Страница 17

"Russ, you don't have to," she said, reaching down and touching the side of his head.

Of course he didn't have to, but it was something he'd never particularly enjoyed with past girlfriends, so it would give him time to cool down. He lowered his mouth to her dark pink folds and licked.

She moaned.

He paused, taken aback. He'd never been with a moaner. His past girlfriends-the list was short, as he was a serial monogamist-had lain silent and so relaxed, they seemed to be sleeping.

He licked again, and Emma writhed. Encouraged, he licked and stroked and skimmed her folds with his tongue, each touch bringing from her another movement, another sound, another arch of the back.

She tasted like chocolate and a hint of salt. Her flesh was smooth and elastic, a complex puzzle of ridges and valleys. She had little hair compared to the other women he'd been with, and her sex was sweet and smooth against his mouth. Each of his touches made her mewl in pleasure; it made him want to lick her forever, his own sex responding to her reactions.

He found her opening with the tip of his tongue and pressed gently against it, seeking out her moisture.

Emma tensed, raising her hips against his mouth. His tongue was a taunt, promising what it could not deliver. Her whole body was poised to orgasm, but she wanted him deep inside her when she did. She wanted to feel herself filled; wanted him to thrust into her and stretch her to her limit.

"Now, now!" Emma said, reaching down and touching the sides of his head, gently urging him up. "Now, please!"

He rose up between her legs. She grabbed a pillow and arched her hips off the bed, shoving the pillow beneath her bottom, her hips now tilted for better G-spot stimulation, her thighs parted and her body waiting in wet hunger for him to enter. Yes, yes, yes! Finally!

She reached down and helped guide him to her entrance. He pressed into her and after a moment of blunt pressure she felt herself open to accept him, the hard width of him forcing its way inside. It was what she'd been yearning for in all her lonely nights, and the first moments were almost enough to send her over the edge.

He entered with short thrusts, going deeper into her each time, her moisture easing his way. But as he stretched her, discomfort slipped in alongside her pleasure. It had been so long since she'd had sex, her body was no longer used to stretching to accept a man. But her body was still ready for pleasure; still seeking it; and she wrapped her legs around his waist and held on, urging him onward.

Supporting himself on his arms, he looked down at her as if asking for permission, his face tense with passion.

"Go for it," she whispered.

He went for it. He lowered himself to his forearms, holding her shoulders to keep her from being rocked against the brass bars of the headboard as he thrust like his life depended on it. She wrapped her arms around him and clawed gently at his back as he took her. His face was beside hers and she could hear and feel his breath near her ear. Sweat stuck their skin together, her thighs against his sides, his chest against her breasts.

The discomfort had lessened and she now felt nothing but the force of his passion; then thrust by thrust, the pleasure began to return. Just a tickle; a tease of excitement deep within her. A spot that his manhood stroked, bringing it slowly to life.

She clung to him more tighdy and rocked her hips against him, trying to steal more of that faint pleasure. She tightened her i

"Oh God, Emma," he said on a breath, his motions slowing, his whole body tensing.

No, not yet! she silently begged. Just when she was starting to enjoy it again!

One more thrust and then he was gripping her shoulders, and through the sensitive flesh at her entrance she felt the throb of his orgasm.

Dammit! Dammit dammit dammit!

He eased gently down on top of her, his body relaxing.

"It's okay, I can take your weight," she whispered, sensing that he was holding himself partly off her.