Tethered (Novella) - By Meljean Brook Page 0,47

cried out, her back bowing. The flames of need that had been licking beneath her skin erupted into a rolling fire that seared every nerve and coiled with liquid heat through her core. His hands gripped her thighs, to support her or to help her stay still, she didn’t know, but as his thumbs slid inward, she needed the assistance.

His deep, hungry groan followed the first slick caress. “God, Yasmeen. You’re like a furnace.”

Burning. “Now. Now.”

And he did. Devouring, as he’d promised, lips and tongue and fingers everywhere touching, tasting, thrusting. He feasted, eager and abandoned, his rough jaw scraping delicate flesh, his moans laden with unquenchable need, suckling her clitoris until she screamed her finish, and still licking, licking, as if he could never get enough.

She never would.

Leisurely, his mouth journeyed over her stomach, and now she saw him, his eyes glazed with violent need, his control visible in every straining muscle.

He rose over her, his hands braced beside her shoulders. “Like this, Yasmeen? Or do I untie you first?”

With her thighs still spread and her body still exposed, forced to remain almost motionless as he drove his cock into her again and again…The same trepidation reared up again—and the same thrill.

Anticipation wound her tight. “Like this.”

His face stark with arousal, he straightened and opened his breeches. He was vulnerable now, too. Exposed. Her legs trembled, instinct pushing at her to rip open the knots. If he was threatened, how quickly would she be able to move? Would it be fast enough?

Gently, he pushed at her entrance. Yasmeen sucked in a sharp breath, and the crowding questions fled. She waited in a silent frenzy of expectation, feeling only his blunt intrusion, the stretch of her thighs, the silk around her ankles. Seeing only his love and need, the ecstasy that rolled through his lean body as he pressed forward, filling her so slowly that she was keening with frustration and agonizing pleasure when he finally sheathed his cock to the hilt.

She would not survive this. Every instinct demanded that she free herself, wrap her thighs around him and set a faster, harder pace, instead of forcing her legs to stay bound. Instead of shaking from the effort of lying still, instead of crying out on sobbing breaths when he completely withdrew his heavy shaft before starting that endless penetration again.

There was nothing else. Only Archimedes, giving everything she’d asked of him and more, his hands fastened on her hips, helping her remain tied to the desk but tethered to him.

So sweetly, so deeply, to him.

“Yasmeen.” His emerald gaze burned. Her name was a feral command, everything stripped away but primitive need and demand. “Clamp down on my cock now.”

Because he loved that, loved how she squeezed him, teased him. God, she did, too. Panting, she clenched her inner muscles around his thick length, and cried out as everything intensified, became sharper, tighter. So much tighter, her taut legs trembling already, and now inside, where delicious friction became luscious resistance that made him force his way deeper, deeper. His body bowed in response, every muscle standing in stark relief. His groan was harsh, fingers digging into her hips.

“So sweet.” His head fell forward, his beautiful mouth drawn in a grimace of acute pleasure. “So unbearably sweet.”

But he bore it, though his heaving chest and tortured groans told her that he wanted to let go and pound harder, harder. He held on, instead, his gaze locked on hers and slowly riding with her to the edge.

And then she was done, writhing at the end of an infinite stroke, no control left—only the mindless rocking of her hips, taking in those last thick inches over and over again, her arms around his shoulders and his mouth fused to hers in a kiss that could never last long enough. Sweat slicked his lean body; he suddenly stilled and shuddered against her, inside her. She tasted it, tasted him, whispering words of love against his skin.

He groaned her name and collapsed over her, chest heaving. She held him until he suddenly raised his upper body away from her, bracing his arms and meeting her eyes.

“There’s only one practical solution now.” His expression was solemn. “We must buy enough desks to fill every inch of this airship.”

Her laugh lifted through her. “So very practical,” she agreed.

“Alas, I suppose it will have to wait until we return from the Eastern Ocean.”

“And hopefully that date will not be too far away,” she said, thinking of the weeks