Standing in the Shadows (McClouds & Friends #2)(46)

She struggled up onto her knees. "It's your turn, Connor," she said shyly. "Do you want me to, um… go down on you?"

He jerked up onto his elbows, opened his mouth to speak, and closed it, looking shy. "Uh… that's one of those do-bears-shit-in-the-woods and is-the-Pope-Catholic type questions, Erin."

"I take it that's a yes," she said primly.

He flopped down onto his back and put his hand over his face. "You don't have to if you're not comfortable with it," he mumbled.

She leaned over him. "Connor? Are you blushing?"

"No," he snapped. "I just turned red because I'm excited. So shoot me. God, this is embarrassing."

"Don't be embarrassed. I love it. How sweet."

"Sweet," he muttered. "Huh. Great. I'm glad it works for you."

She put her hands on his chest, and petted the flat, silky golden hair. "So tell me what you want me to—"

"No way." He flung his arms wide. "I am at your mercy. Do with me as you will. If you want to go down on me, fine. I'm all for it."

She unbuttoned his jeans. He wore nothing beneath them. His penis sprang out eagerly into her hands. Long and thick, flushed.

"No underwear?" She covered her nervousness with laughter.

"Hate 'em. Never bothered with them when I was a kid. Never got into the habit as an adult, either. They make my dick feel strangled."

His skin was so much softer than she had expected. Living velvet sliding over the thick stalk as she clasped him, squeezed him. The blunt, heart-shaped tip was as large and swollen as a red plum. It wept one gleaming drop of fluid. She touched it with her fingertip, swirling it around his hot, smooth flesh. He cried out, arching off the bed.

She froze, alarmed. "Please tell me if I do anything wrong."

He clutched handfuls of sheet with white-knuckled fists. "Anything, everything, whatever. It's all good. Don't stop."

His low, shaky tone emboldened her, and she dragged his jeans down over his hips. She pulled them off and got her first look at the surgical scars that furrowed his thigh. Long and jagged and puckered.

She ran her hand over his ravaged flesh. An ache swelled inside her for his suffering, bound together with tenderness, and anger, and the urge to give him more pleasure than he had ever dreamed possible.

She clambered over him, letting her hair trail over his chest until she was straddling him. He held up his face to a soft rain of kisses like a man dying of thirst. His body trembled with the effort of staying still. "Oh, God, this is so sweet," he murmured.

She played with him, discovering his body with her hands and her lips. He squeezed his eyes shut and shuddered violently when she took him into her mouth.

She could barely manage it, there was so much of him. He was so big and thick. She loved his warm, salty, sexual taste, his musky male smell. His heartbeat pulsed between her hands, against her caressing tongue. His scarred, beautiful body was a heart-wrenching contradiction of power and vulnerability, of strength and yearning.

He gripped fistfuls of her hair. His tone grew more pleading as she experimented with her tongue, with her hands. The bolder she was, the harder he thrashed. She pulled him deeper, swallowing him whole, suckling him hard, swirling her tongue, milking him with her hands.

His hands tightened in her hair. "It's coming down on me. Oh, God." He convulsed, and exploded.

Pulsing jets of hot liquid spurted into her mouth, and she shuddered at the energy that burst against her face. She braced herself, and rode out the long storm. It faded into stillness.

She swallowed, raised her head, wiped her mouth. She kissed his thigh, the dark blond hair at his groin, the sensitive tip of his penis.

His fingers tightened in her hair. "Oh, Erin."

His voice was rough and shaky. He hid his eyes behind his trembling hand. She pressed her cheek against the hard muscles of his belly, and nuzzled him tenderly. "Are you OK?" she asked him.

He opened his eyes, and laughed "I just had a religious experience."

She pulled herself up onto her knees. "Me, too."

He grinned as he studied her face. "Really? You liked doing that?"

She nodded. His penis was still half-hard, curved across his thigh against its nest of hair. She ran her fingertip slowly along its length, from root to the gleaming tip. He hardened and thickened instantly.

"I loved it," she said. "It made me crazy. Just look at me, Connor. Look at what you've done."

He propped himself up onto his elbows and stared at her. Her fingers curled around his penis and squeezed him. "Whoa," he whispered. "Check you out. You're on fire."

She let her head fall back and trailed her fingertips over her hot face, her lips, her throat. She caressed her breasts, her belly, and slid her hand between her legs, seeking relief from the shimmering tension. "I feel so much, it hurts," she said. "Inside, outside, everywhere. Did you put a spell on me? Did you slip something into my pie when I wasn't looking?"

"Oh, no, sweetheart." He rose up to his knees. "It was all inside you to begin with. The red-hot love goddess. It's what you always were. You shine, Erin. You almost hurt my eyes." He pulled her hard against him, arranging her thighs so that they straddled his. "Oh yeah. Give me some more of that. Right now."