Full Throttle (Black Knights Inc. #7)(63)

“Shhh, cari?o,” he soothed against her lips. “We will get where you need to go. But we will take our time, no?” And he couldn’t help but notice the inflections he used, his accent, tended to thicken when he was being ridden hard by lust.

And, Dios, he’d never been ridden this hard. Because his love for Abby, his complete and total adoration of her, made everything that much more urgent, that much more…poignant. Which meant he was all the more determined to make this time, this first time they were together, as memorable, as pleasurable as possible.

Carefully, with infinite care, he showed her what could be accomplished with teeth and lips and tongue. He showed her all the different ways to suck and lick, to give pleasure and to take. He didn’t know how many minutes passed. And the truth was, he would have been happy to spend the rest of eternity simply kissing her. But the way she was moving beneath him, so sinuously, so urgently, he knew she was desperate for the next step.

Breaking the seal of their lips had her moaning with frustration. “It’s okay, mi vida,” he said against her throat, sucking on her pulse point again and grinning in masculine approval when it caused her hips to buck beneath him. He lowered more of his weight atop her in order to keep her from rubbing herself to completion. Because the first time she came, it was going to be with his fingers inside her…or maybe his tongue. He hadn’t decided which.

“Carlos,” she cried. “God, I ache!”

“I know,” he told her. “I ache, too. But bueno. It’s good, no? The more it hurts right now, the better it will feel when I finally put myself inside you. You want me inside you, don’t you?”

“Yes,” she panted. “Yes. Please. Right now. I can’t stand it.”

“You can stand it,” he assured her, reaching down to grab the hem of her tunic top. Slowly, so infinitely slowly, he pulled the garment up her body, watching as inch after inch of smooth, creamy flesh was revealed. Then, when the backs of his fingers brushed the soft, warm undersides of her breasts, he quickly whipped the shirt over her head. Bunching the tunic in a ball, he shoved it under her neck. Then he resecured her wrists in one hand, pulling her arms back above her head.

The wonderful woman had taken the opportunity of her shirt removal to leave little claw marks down his spine. And his dick came damn close to exploding as a result. If he was going to do this the right way, the way he wanted, he couldn’t have her hands on him. It was too much temptation. Too much stimulation. And he was already so close to the edge.

“You can stand it,” he said again. “Because it’s what I want. And though you don’t know it, it’s what you want, too.”

“You’re a domineering bastard when it comes to this, aren’t you?” she snarled, her chest rising and falling with each rapid breath. He looked down at the wonder he’d uncovered, at Abby’s small, pale breasts. At her tiny pink nipples. And he nearly lost his mind. She was even more beautiful than he imagined. Even more delicately feminine.

“I am,” he admitted, ducking his chin to gently suck one delectable bud into his mouth. She gasped and arched her back into a supple bow. The maneuver had her pelvis rubbing the tip of his cock, squeezing it delightfully against her pubic bone. “And you love it,” he finished, taking the distended nub between his teeth to flick it with his tongue.

On the one hand she tasted like an angel, ethereal and exquisite. Like something from a dream. On the other hand, her flavor was that of a flesh-and-blood woman. Her skin was salty with sweat, sweet with lotion, and so damned hot it was a wonder it didn’t singe his tongue. But regardless of whether or not she was corporeal or celestial, the truth was, he’d found heaven…





Chapter Seventeen


The hard length of Carlos inside those ass-hugging cargo pants was a rod of stimulation against the top of Abby’s sex, a hot shaft that promised both temptation and satisfaction. She wanted that satisfaction right now, two minutes ago. But Carlos was almost dictatorial in his need to be the one to set the pace. And something inside Abby, something she’d never known was there, thrilled at his autocratic demands. Thrilled at the orders falling from his lips and the way he held her captive to his wants, his desires, all the while feeding her longing, fueling her lust higher and higher and higher.

She’d never wanted anything this badly before. Never needed anything this badly before. And it hurt her almost as much as it excited her.

“I’m going to take off that skirt now,” he told her, her nipple popping free of his lips. His mouth was so hot the humid air inside the hut was almost cool against her tender, distended peak.

This is really happening. I’m really about to have all my fantasies come to life. I’m really about to make love to Carlos. She couldn’t believe it!

And that niggle of doubt at the back of her head? That little voice that whispered she shouldn’t be doing this? That he’d despise her more for it in the end? Well, it was silenced when he pushed up to his knees, letting go of her wrists to grab the waistband of her skirt.

Damn, but the man was pretty. Yes, pretty. There was just no other way to describe the way his dark skin glowed under the sheen of rain and sweat. The way his black eyes were like lasers inside the dimness of the hut. His heavy chest muscles and corded stomach muscles bunched and flexed as he slowly, ever so slowly pulled the wet skirt from her legs. Carelessly tossing it aside, he peeled the soft-soled shoes from her feet and dropped them to the mat. When her heels landed on the dried palm leaf, his position between her thighs kept her legs splayed and her sex… Oh, God!