Natural Evil (Elder Races #4.5)(27)

“Jesus,” she said as he kissed her flat, tight stomach.

“I’ve been wanting to do this for days. And days. And days.” His breath blasted the tiny hairs on her sensitive skin, and she listed drunkenly against the counter. He eased her shoes and socks off, then yanked her jeans down to her ankles, breathing hard. Then her underwear, until the pale, silken tangle of her pubic hair was bared. She had a scar on her hip, one of the times she got grazed by enemy fire. His trembling fingers traced the path of the mark on her skin. He breathed, “Hook your leg over my shoulder.”

She hissed a curse, because now he made her shake all over too. At his coaxing, she balanced her weight on one wobbly leg while he lifted the other leg and draped it over one broad shoulder. She watched him stare at the most private part of her that was hypersensitive with arousal, and then he looked up at her taut, incredulous face.

Then he heaved a sigh as heartfelt as if he was coming home. He leaned into her and gently, avidly took her clitoris in his mouth, and there was no playing the fiction that this was his first time for that, because he knew just what the f**k he was doing, and he did it superlatively.

“I’m dying here,” she groaned. He made a soothing sound at the back of his throat while he licked, nibbled and suckled. Raw jolts of pleasure rocked through her, and if she hadn’t been gripping the edge of the kitchen sink or clutching his hair, she would have fallen.

His fingers probed gently at the slick entrance to her vagina while his mouth worked her. She pushed her hips against him, sobbing for breath. She was dying, he was killing her, killing her. The sensations were too intense, too sharp. She had been partnerless for too long. She had grown too accustomed to bringing her own release. He was never going to get her to come.

But then he did. The climax seared through her nerve endings and tore a sound of delirious pleasure from her.

He pulled away slowly and leaned his forehead against the curve of her pubic bone, breathing as though he was at a full-out run. Unclenching her fist from his hair, she stroked the side of his face while he gripped her hips, calloused fingers rubbing along her skin.

She lifted the leg that had been draped along his back, put her bare foot to his collarbone, and kicked him back so that he sprawled on the floor. As he went down, she came on top of him, straddling his hips, and he opened his mouth, that fabulously sensual, wickedly clever mouth still slick with her pleasure, and before he could say anything, she dove down to kiss him hard.

He muttered something guttural and flexed his hips as he grabbed her by the back of the neck, and this time they didn’t kiss so much as eat at each other’s mouths, rough with an escalating urgency that spread like a wildfire. Time burned away. They both felt for the fastening of his jeans, trying to help each other and tangling their fingers. When the fastening finally came undone, he yanked the zipper down and she closed her fingers over his erection.

Hell’s bells, he was a big sonovabitch there too. He really was going to kill her. She eased up so that she could look down the rippling contours of his long, muscled torso. His penis was as beautiful as the rest of him, with a velvet-soft, broad head, and a thick, hard length.

“Ooh, Precious,” she said, looking up at him with a quick grin, and sudden laughter creased his face. Then his laughter vaporized as she stroked him, all the way down to his balls which had drawn up tight, and he shuddered all over.

She guided him to her entrance. He stopped her, hands shaking. “Condom?”

She shook her head and whispered, “No need.” She had used an IUD until her mid-thirties. Once she was sure she wasn’t cut out to parent a child, she’d settled the issue permanently with surgery.

When his resistance vanished, she eased down on him. She had a thought that she ought to warn him to take this part slow, since those were the only muscles in her body that she hadn’t exercised in a while. But he was so gentle as he pushed up, while his expression was so drawn with need, she went a little crazy and impaled herself on him in one painful, glorious movement.

Then he was seated in her all the way, and they stared at each other. The slanting evening sunshine spilled in through a nearby window and fell over them in a rain of gold. He pulled on her t-shirt and she sat straight up to drag it over her head, and to remove her bra too. His gaze was wide, wondering. Her br**sts weren’t very big, and she didn’t think they were interesting, but he touched them with a reverence that made her eyes moisten.

I love you, she told him silently. You impossibly wonderful man.

Because she could say whatever she wanted in her own head. Because she could confess it all, as he began to flex underneath her, moving gently. He stroked her breast, stroked her face, and then their bodies came together just right, and she arched her back as she peaked again. Her pleasure must have hurtled him forward, because he gripped her by the hips again, hard, pumping up once, twice, and then he groaned and climaxed along with her.

She fell forward, sprawling on him, and fought to get control of her breathing. His arms closed around her, and there was nothing more perfect than the moment when he was still inside her and he held her so tightly. He whispered her name.

They hadn’t even gotten his shirt or his jeans off. Man, she really knew how to trash herself. She pressed a kiss to his hot, damp neck and thought, I’m a goddamn idiot.

Luis rolled her over and made love to her again. And again.

Here was the fun bit: clearly she hadn’t had a Wyr lover before, because she was all wide-eyed astonishment at his stamina, and she didn’t connect to the significance of his multiple orgasms.