Ravish: The Awakening of Sleeping Beauty - By Cathy Yardley Page 0,75

T-shirt and a pair of jeans with one knee ripped out, obviously from exertion and not as fashion.

He looked good enough to eat.

“I told you I’d find you,” she said, without preamble.

He didn’t say anything. He simply reached out and grabbed her.

She wasn’t sure what she was expecting, but it wasn’t this. Nonetheless, she wasn’t complaining. On the contrary, her body exulted in the feel of him, crushing his mouth against hers, his arms almost punishing her with the tightness of his embrace.

“Jesus, I’ve been losing my mind without you,” he said, between kisses. He tore at her clothes, seams ripping in his haste.

“I’ve been getting ready for you,” she responded breathlessly, shimmying out of her dress as he yanked off his shirt. She tore off her bra as he shrugged out of his pants, tripping on the band and falling over on his plush, overstuffed couch. He held her, and she tumbled with him, falling on top of him. “Why didn’t you see me?”

“I couldn’t.” The words sounded torn from him, and his face looked tortured. “I wanted to, but I just…it had to be your choice. Do you understand?”

“I understand you’re stubborn,” she said, framing his face with her hands. “And hardheaded. And I know I love you enough to overlook it.”

“Thank God,” he breathed fervently. His arms roamed her body hungrily, stroking her from shoulder to hip, caressing her breasts, her stomach, and the mound over her sex as he kissed her deeply. Everywhere he touched seemed to ignite with an exponentially growing desire.

She felt the hot rail of his cock, burning against her thigh. She moved restlessly, brushing against it with her pussy, moaning eagerly. He shifted, and she was beneath him, pressed into the deep cushions of his sofa. He kissed her neck, nibbling gently, then moved down to her breasts as his hand shot between them. He’d find her already wet: she’d started creaming for him as she headed for the elevator. Every thought of him brought a rain of wetness from her aching pussy, eager to lubricate the way for him.

Expertly, he stroked the tender lips of her vulva, circling the sensitive flesh, delving deeper to find her clit. When he found it, she cried out. “Ahhh, yes, right there…”

He pressed firmly, circling it, massaging it until ripples of electricity jolted up from her sex, up through her body, until her even her fingers and toes shivered with sexual excitement. She writhed beneath him, her back arching, her nipples jutting upward to drag against his chest. He groaned, then positioned his cock at her drenched entrance. When his cock head entered her tight passage, she took a deep breath.

He pressed in, and she gasped, a startled mix of pleasure and pain.

He froze. “Oh God.”

“Don’t stop,” she begged, holding his chest. “Please.”

“This is your first time, isn’t it?”

She nodded wordlessly.

“Did I hurt you?”

“Only when you stopped,” she murmured.

“I’ll make it good for you,” he rasped. Then he started to move, with slow, deliberate care, his cock withdrawing and pressing forward in long, loving strokes.

She closed her eyes, focusing on the sensations, dwelling in the moment. She breathed in the masculine scent of him, woodsy and yet still subtly sophisticated; she felt the hot firmness of his skin, pressing against hers so intimately. The way he so masterfully entered her, altering his angle by degrees, varying the depths of his penetration so that the pleasure generated slowly building and growing until she no longer felt pain, only an escalating fire of ecstasy that threatened to burn her alive. The plush, velvety luxury of the couch on her naked back and buttocks was a heavenly counterpoint to his overall hardness. She could hear him, his breathing heavy and harsh, his low moans and gasps of pleasure fueling her own mewling gasps of delight. She ground her hips against his, anchoring her legs against the couch so she could push her pelvis forward, taking him in deeper, meeting every thrust with her own matching pressure.

Suddenly, his lovemaking was less controlled, as she felt him get carried away by the tide of his own desire. It was as if all his masterful orchestration snapped under the pressure of his growing need. He was everywhere, devouring her mouth, suckling on her breasts, his hips moving in increasing speed and pressure, his cock pummeling her with frantic hunger. Her own desire exploded. She nipped at his lips, drew the edge of her teeth against the muscles of his chest as