Celt. (Den of Mercenaries #2)(27)

This time, when she looked back to the movie, it wasn’t nearly as easy concentrating, too enraptured by his touch on her. That desire she had felt back in the kitchen came rushing back with a flourish. And with the pleasurable roughness of his hands, it wasn’t like she could easily ignore what he was doing.

At first she could have mistaken his touch for something innocent, but with each brief stroke of his fingers, his touch went higher and higher until she was so acutely aware of his ministrations that restlessness took over her.

She looked to his face then, wondering if she would see that same arrogance in his face, but she didn’t find that because his gaze was rapt on her legs.

He followed the path his fingers took, leaving a trail of fire in his wake. Everywhere he touched made her feel lighter than before, until she was shamelessly parting her legs, aching for his touch to move just a little more inward.

A smile quirked his lips as his gaze dropped to the apex of her thighs, drinking in what she offering. The expression on his face shifted then, from arousal to something darker, something that she could almost feel.

She still wore his shirt, and her bra and panties, but with the way he was looking at her, she felt naked almost, like he could see every inch of her despite the clothes.

Turning toward her, one minute he was on the other side of her, the next he was between her thighs, his lips just a breath away from her own. This time she didn’t wait for him to kiss her, instead going up to kiss him.

This one wasn’t as soft as the last, but hungrier with the way he coaxed her into surrendering and giving him everything. It wasn’t until she felt the rigid length of his cock pressed against her through his pants that she drew back with a gasp, the contact sending waves of need through her.

“Are you mine for the night?” he asked as he ran a hand along her hip, slipping beneath the hem of the shirt she wore.

“Kyrnon …” It shouldn’t have even been a question.

“I’ll take care of you,” he promised, already dragging the shirt up her stomach, then over her head and finally tossing it off to the side.

She was his.

She was definitely his.



* * *



He needed to f*ck.

It was as simple as that.

From the minute he had gotten her here, and she had quite boldly undressed in front of him, it had been a battle of his self-control not to put his hands on her right then.

The rain had soaked through her clothes, making her skin appear more supple and bronzed. And besides the scar from her surfing accident, her skin was smooth and unblemished.

The challenge in her eyes had been enough to excite him, to make him crave her so f*cking much, but he had waited — for reasons he thought were dumb now.

She wanted him, there had been no mistaking that with the way she responded so readily to him.

But since tonight would be the first of what he hoped would be many nights with her, he wanted to learn her, figure out what made her come undone.

Kissing her one last time, he moved his lips down along her jaw, over her breast, and down her abdomen until he was at her center, covered in lace. Bringing his hand down, he pressed his fingers against her slit, dragging them up and back down, feeling the quiver run through her.

As he repeated the motion, his gaze shot up to her face, wanting to watch her reaction, see the pleasure he was giving her. But then that wasn’t enough, and in the next moment, he was dragging that material to the side, revealing her slippery sex to his gaze.

He hadn’t meant to take more than a taste, just wanting a sample of what his cock would be buried in, but the minute he had his lips on her *, his tongue dragging up her slit before delving between, he knew that wouldn’t be enough.

Amber was just so f*cking wet, and he had barely touched her. His cock almost hurt from how hard it was. A whine left her lips as she reached for him, but he caught her hands, interlocking their fingers and pressing their joined hands back against the couch.

She was undulating against his mouth, her cries made him lick at her harder, but it wasn’t until he had his lips around her clit and gave it a suck did her back arch like a bow and a gush of sweetness hit his tongue.

Fucking hell, he wouldn’t last.

Forcing himself away from her, he sat up on the couch, dragging her onto his lap, her back to his front.

A shuddering exhale left her as her head fell back against his shoulder, her back arching farther. He knew, even before he got his hand back in her knickers that she was going to be wetter than before for him.

He meant to take his time, find all the spots that made her squirm and beg, but he was just as f*cking impatient as she was.

“Show me how you like to come,” he said instead, feeling her response to his words as she arched further, desperately seeking out the fingers he was refusing to give her.

As she started to follow his instruction, his gaze shot to the mirror across the room, their reflection giving him the perfect view as he watched his fingers slip beneath the waistband, following the same path her hand had taken.

Just watching her drag a finger down her slit, then coming back up to rub at her clit had his cock throbbing with need. No, she wasn’t shy by any means, and he knew once he got her beneath him she wouldn’t hold back, giving as good as she got.

But right now, he just wanted to watch her come, watch her fall to pieces.

Dragging the cup of her bra down, he cupped her breast, feeling the cool metal of the bar she had through her nipple. The second he tugged at it, pinching her nipple between his thumb and forefinger, she moaned low, her hips shifting, grinding against his cock.