Sinful Longing(6)

By: Lauren Blakely



“Oh God,” she gasped, because she knew what was next.

His hands dove into her hair.

Fuck me now. Just fuck me now.

He’d discovered all her secrets the very first time he’d kissed her and explored her body. He’d read her responses as if it were his top-secret assignment to know every inch of her skin, then he’d remembered and sought them out, focusing on all the places that drove her wild. The back of her knee. The inside of her arm. Her neck, the gateway to her pleasure.

She was hopeless with him. He’d unlocked the code to all her desires, and he used it masterfully.

He threaded his talented fingers through her curls, gripping, and she moved with him, moaned for him, as if she were the notes he played on a cello. He was the musician; she was the instrument. He played and he played and he played, and her body sang for him, a song of pure desire. Of heat. Of want.

He twisted her hair once around his hand, pulling it to the side, and she tilted her head that way, giving him more room to devour her neck with kisses, like he was starved for her. He lavished pleasure all over her, leaving her drenched in sensation from soft, fluttery whispers along her neck, territorial kisses that claimed her as his, all mixed with the whiskery rub of his stubble. His ever-present scruff was trimmed to mere millimeters but long enough to brush against her skin with every kiss, bringing the intoxicating mix of soft and hard, of rough and tender. He rubbed his chin along her shoulder, and she arched into him.

He snaked an arm over her shoulders, grazing along her breasts as he traveled down her belly, his fingertips dancing against her waist.

“You like what I do to you.” It wasn’t a question.

“So incredibly much,” she said, as he flicked the tip of his tongue across her shoulder. When he kissed her like this, and he touched her like that, she wanted to give herself to him fully. The way he wanted. The way he’d asked for. A voice in the back of her head started to argue with her, to warn her what happened when she made choices in heated moments like this, and she tensed for an instant.

But this was different. This was a moment she was choosing to relish. A night of pleasure.

His hand reached the crest of her hip and her brain went dormant. He traced the top of her panties through the fabric of her dress. “Show me how much you like giving in. Show me how wet you are.”

She yanked up her skirt, bunching it near her waist, giving him instant access to the V of her legs. Even with her panties on, there was no hiding her arousal.

He groaned huskily. “Look at you, Elle. Look at how wet you get. For me.” His fingers glided up the soft flesh of her thighs, and she parted her legs for him. Grazing the wet panel, he whispered, “I want to feel that all over my dick. I want this sweet wetness all the fuck over me. Tell me how much you want me inside you right now. Tell me.”

“Oh God,” she panted. “Yes, God yes. I want that. I want it so much.”

“You want it?”

“You,” she said quickly, correcting her error. “I want you so much.”

“I want you to want me even more,” he said then took his hand away from her wet heat, returning both to her shoulders, sliding them up her neck to her hairline. He grabbed her hair, wound it all up in his fist and pulled hard, making her shudder. He bit the back of her neck, his teeth rough on her flesh.

She gasped as he soothed away the sting with his lips. She was nothing but cells and atoms, electrons and protons, smashing and colliding into lust and desire, and she could barely track where he was on her body. His lips were on her shoulders, her neck, her throat, then her jaw, her ears, her cheeks. His hands pressed into her breasts. His fingers raced down her arms. His erection rubbed against her spine through his clothes, making her gasp and want to beg for him.

And there, right there between her legs, she was an inferno for him. She arched her hips and said his name like a chant. He’d trapped her and she wanted to be his captive—captive ’til she came. “Colin,” she said. “I can’t take it anymore.”

“Tell me what you want most this second. Tell me,” he said, his voice hot and demanding.

The answer was easy. There was only one thing she needed. “I need to come, Colin. Please, I need to come so badly.”

In a flash he rose, lifted her, and set her on her feet. She turned around and skimmed off her panties. He sank down on the end of the chair.

“Unzip my pants,” he told her. With greedy, eager fingers, she bent forward and did as he asked, tugging his pants to his thighs, then his boxer briefs, freeing his cock. Her mouth watered as she stared at his erection—hard, heavy, and so fucking long. So many glorious, gorgeous inches that she loved to take deep inside her.

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