One Exquisite Touch (The Extravagant #2)- Lauren Blakely Page 0,15
ravenous. I crave their hands all over me. Their lips everywhere. Breaking the kiss, I make my plea. “More.”
That’s all I can say, so I say it again, so needy. “More.”
I beg for it.
And they heed the call.
“We’ll give you everything you want,” the man behind me says in his delicious accent.
They somehow come closer, crowding me, the Englishman with his hands on my ass, gripping and squeezing, the American in front of me, pressing his pelvis against mine, grinding, letting me feel the full outline of his thick, hard cock as his hand travels along my dress.
As his lips crush mine.
Behind me, the blue-eyed stranger slides his lips along my neck against my hair, kissing me in the most sensual way, sliding his nose along my skin, inhaling me. “You smell so fucking good. I want to lick you, kiss you, eat you,” the Brit whispers while the American consumes my mouth with hard, hungry, demanding kisses.
One makes me swoon; the other makes me burn.
I am theirs to play with, and do I ever want to be played.
More than I ever expected.
My first stranger slides his lips over mine, nips and bites, heating me up, then kissing me so damn hard. He covers my waist with his hands as the kiss turns hotter, deeper.
And soon it is a lavish kiss.
It is rich with heat, colored with desire.
Tongues and need.
Breath and want.
The want is everywhere, radiating through each cell in my body, pulsing to every corner of my being as they seduce me in an alcove tucked away from the rest of the fete.
The faint strains of music from the dance floor float past my ears.
Pleasure coils in my belly, tightening and growing hotter between my legs. The man behind me slides his hands to the edge of my cheeks and then slams his pelvis against my ass.
I yelp in pleasure. He grinds against my ass while squeezing my cheeks at the same time, and I love what he’s doing with those big hands while the man in front consumes my lips.
I’m trapped between them, caught deliciously between two men who arouse me, two men who turn me on.
Two men who know exactly what to do to me.
Who know precisely how to make me feel like magic.
The American slides a hand down my legs on a fast track for the hem of my skirt again, then it’s going straight under, up along my thighs, and right to my wet, hot center. His hand glides across the panel of my panties, between my legs, and he groans. “Oh, lovely bird, you are soaked.”
Somehow I manage to form words. “I’m aching. Can you please do something about this sweet ache between my legs?”
“Yes. Yes, I can.” In a heartbeat, the American dips his fingers underneath the panel of my panties, and I cry out. Louder than I’ve been before, and for a flicker of a second, I imagine someone hears me.
Someone finds us.
The wicked thrill of discovery ignites a riot of sparks in my body. I don’t want to be caught, yet I can’t deny the possibility is electrifying.
That’s why I’m too loud.
The Englishman knows it. He pushes the outline of his cock against my ass while he moves a hand along my neck, over my chin, toward my mouth. “Love, you’ve got to be quiet. We don’t want anyone hearing what he’s about to do to you. Let me cover your mouth so no one else can hear you come.”
I shiver from his commanding words, from the way the two of them are conductors, my body the instrument.
“Yes, but first,” I say to the man whose hand is between my legs, “tell your English friend how it feels to touch me. Tell him what it’s like to play with my pussy.”
As I say those daring words, I feel bold, decadent.
And so damn powerful too.
Because they both groan. Savagely. As if they’re surprised to be given such a lusty directive.
“She feels so silky, so damn slippery,” the American rasps out as the Brit presses his palm to my mouth, covering my moans. “And her clit is aching for my touch.”
The Brit moans near my ear, nibbling on my earlobe. “Is she going to come for us soon?”
Gasping against his palm, I answer him with a nod, while my first Prince Wicked strokes my clit faster.
“Her pussy is so wet. So fucking slick. I bet she tastes spectacular,” he rasps out.
I feel spectacular, trembling everywhere, my knees quaking.