Thrill Ride (Black Knights Inc. #4)(46)
Yep, sensitive ears…
She blew softly, nibbled lightly, and was rewarded when he once more grabbed her ass, grinding his erection against her. Rubbing her just right. And she couldn’t help but think, if we weren’t wearing clothes, he’d be in me right now. Hot and throbbing and thrusting…
And, yeah, she knew he’d said all he wanted was a kiss, but it had already gone well beyond the simple stage of kissing. And if he was determined this would be the one and only time he dropped his guard, the one and only time he allowed himself to give in to his lust, then, by God, she was going to take it as far as she could.
All the friggin’ way, if he’d let her. Because she loved him, and after he found out what she’d just done, she was pretty sure—probably close to 100 percent certain, as a matter of fact—he’d never allow himself this chance again. Very likely wouldn’t want this chance again. You know…given he was going to hate her…
She pushed the thought aside, knowing there was no undoing what’d been done, so there was no use worrying about it now. Especially not when he was in the process of granting her most fervent wish. Not when she was poised to do the one thing she’d dreamed of doing since the first day she walked through the doors of Black Knights Inc.
His mouth returned to hers, his male lips, so plump and firm, so knowledgeable. Yes, she’d always known Rock would be a good kisser. With a mouth like his, how could he not be? But even though she’d gotten a taste of his skill last night, she was still taken aback by his technique. Like the way he sucked her bottom lip between his teeth in order to bite down gently, or the way he filled her mouth with his tongue, coaxing her to follow suit and then, when she did, the way he softly sucked until she could feel each pull low in her belly, making her moan and writhe and ache.
Everything a woman dreamed of when she dreamed of kissing, Rock did. And it didn’t feel contrived or intentional. It just felt sensuous, like he instinctively knew what was good, what it took to make a woman burn.
And, baby, was she ever burning. The air in her lungs was a gasoline fire; the blood in her veins blazing so hot that every inch of her skin was ultra-sensitized. Each of her nerve endings was exposed, and everywhere they touched felt like coming into contact with an open flame…
She wanted more. More of him. More of this. Just more, more, more…
As their mouths tasted and their tongues mated, she scooted back just a fraction of an inch. Snaking an eager hand between their bodies, she unhooked his gear belt and barely registered the fact that it fell to the ground at his feet because she was too busy reaching for the button at the top of his fly. She smiled against his lips when it popped open without much effort. His zipper was next, and the metal teeth scriiiiitching against one another was some of the sweetest music she’d ever heard. And then she delved her hand inside and…
Whoa.
She wasn’t surprised to find him hard and hot. She’d known he’d be both of those things. But she was taken aback by his thickness, by the feel of the large vein pulsing against her palm and, suddenly, she had to see, had to look…
She pulled back and ducked her chin, sucking in a heated breath when she saw him spearing unrepentantly from the V of his cargo pants. He was so rigid, standing almost vertical. So engorged, the skin of him almost purple. His plump, weeping head stared at her defiantly and she’d have reached for the snap on her own pants, thinking only of impaling herself on all that unapologetic maleness, had Rock not started working the buttons on her shirt, distracting her.
She watched as he slipped undone one button, then another and another. He had such wonderfully dependable-looking hands. Broad and tan, with artistically long fingers. It was hard to imagine those hands had caused that CIA agent to squeal like a little girl, but she knew they had. And she also knew they were minutes away from giving her intense, unspeakable pleasure…
A shiver of anticipation slipped up her spine as he pushed the last button through its hole, finally spreading the halves of her safari shirt wide. She lamented the fact that there wasn’t a red lace bra to meet his penetrating gaze, because there was absolutely nothing sexy about the Ace bandage wrapped around her chest, smashing her breasts flat.
“Sorry,” she breathed, licking suddenly dry lips, her hand stilling against him.
“For what, chere?” he glanced up at her, his multifaceted eyes glowing in the dimness of the shade, his head cocked.
“For…for not having on sexy lingerie, I guess,” she shrugged, abashed and at the same time so horny she could barely stand herself. And speaking of…
She moved her hand up his length and watched, fascinated, as he caught his lower lip between his square, white teeth, sucking in a startled breath, but never dropping her gaze.
It was erotic as hell, seeing the emotions play across his usually stoic face, getting a glimpse of the pleasure she was giving him, watching as a wave of bliss tripped up his spine, causing him to shudder, making him pulse heavily in her hand.
But just when she was about to get into a rhythm, he grabbed her wrist, gently removing her fingers. She frowned when she realized he was forcing her to stop, and a small grin played at his mouth as he leaned forward to nip at her pouting lower lip. Then she was the one sucking in a startled breath, because he manacled both of her wrists behind her back with one hand as he used the other to reach into the sheath clipped to his loosened waistband, pulling out that 10-inch Bowie knife.