palms stroked over her ribs to frame her aching breasts. Erik’s assault was exquisitely gentle—she would never have thought such a big man capable of so light a touch—but inexorably thorough. He didn’t miss an inch of skin, not with fingers, lips or that hot, clever tongue.
It wasn’t until he was nibbling around her navel, while his thumbs flicked back and forth over her tormented nipples, that it dawned on her he’d pushed the nightgown right up to her waist. Returned abruptly to reality, she opened her mouth, but whatever she’d been about to say strangled in her throat as he shifted and all the air whooshed out of her in a gust.
16
In a single smooth movement, Erik slid down between her legs. With a faint splash, he slipped into the water up to his waist. His long fingers gripped her buttocks, lifting her to his mouth as if she were a ripe fruit. He was humming, a wordless croon that had no real melody but was redolent of masculine purpose. Possession.
The floaty, trancelike state disappeared, grounded abruptly in the physical here and now. The echoes of Prue’s scream overlapped, bouncing off the walls of the chamber and gradually fading away to soft, frantic sobs.
He didn’t gobble, he was precise, almost finicky, as though he was restraining himself, holding back. His breath vibrated against her excruciatingly sensitive flesh as his tongue flicked back and forth across her clitoris with pinpoint accuracy, driving her crazy.
She’d had a lover do this before, but only one, and although he’d certainly appeared to enjoy it, Prue had been too embarrassed to relax, and climax had eluded her. In the end, she’d pretended rather than disappoint him.
Now though, she was too wild, too frenzied, for anything that coherent. Gods, she had no idea! If she’d been able to think, she would have been amazed at the range of demanding noises that came out of her mouth, the pleas, the whimpers. The salty breeze that swirled around the chamber seemed no more than an expression of her need. Her eyes flew open. Fumbling, she sank the fingers of one hand into his hair.
“Ow.” Then he chuckled, a low wicked sound that screwed the tension up another unbearable notch. “Gods, you taste divine.” He licked his lips.
When her hips surged in instinctive response, he grinned. Even in the shadows of the chamber, she could see the feverish glitter of his eyes, the high spots of color on his cheekbones. “All sweet and salty. And in here”—he slid a gentle finger inside, massaging the clinging walls of her sheath—“you’re absolutely fucking perfect, so hot and wet.” A second finger joined the first, and he purred with approval when she ground down against them, her head thrashing. “All mine. Mine to pleasure, mine to fuck.”
Slowly, he rotated his wrist, finding a sweet spot deep inside she hadn’t known she had. This time, when he sealed his lips over her dripping folds, his intent was clear. The flat of his tongue rubbed over her clitoris, again and again, strong measured sweeps, pushing her up and up, building a coil of tension that tightened inexorably deep in her pelvis.
Drumming her heels on his back—how had her legs got there?—she tried to speak, but she’d forgotten how. Finally, she gasped, “P-please. Make me—” He wrapped his tongue around the throbbing bundle of nerves that was her clit and gave it a tweak. Prue had no breath left to shriek. She bucked under his hands.
“Ah, you beg so beautifully,” he murmured, pushing those diabolical fingers a trifle deeper. “What was it you said?”
“Erik.” She dragged in a breath. “Damn you to hell, do it!”
“Yes.” A split-second pause. “Yes! ”
If she hadn’t been so ready, it might have hurt. Instead, the strong suction felt glorious, exactly what she needed to tip her over. The tension trembled for a terrifying instant, vibrating like a single note sustained almost beyond bearing. Then it shattered. Erik, the chamber, the water—Prue herself—everything exploded in a burst of white-hot release.
Fragments of pleasure rained down, continuing to sear her with tiny licks of lightning, so that she shuddered with the aftershocks, over and over. Vaguely, she wondered if she would ever breathe normally again, let alone walk, talk or function. Every bone in her body had been reduced to the same consistency as overcooked noodles.
Gradually, the hardness of the ledge beneath her hip made itself known, growing lumpier and more insistent by the minute. Oh gods, how was she going