Three Nights with a Scoundrel (Stud Club #3)(70)

“Do you trust me?” His touch grazed her cheek.

“Always.”

Cat-like, he slid around her body, coming to stand behind her. She felt the flutter of linen against her back, then caught sight of his discarded shirt as it joined her garments on the floor. A moment later, his trousers topped the pile. She closed her eyes on a smile, knowing better than to wait for smallclothes.

His hands smoothed over her shoulders and came to rest on her upper arms. He tugged, drawing her torso upright and pulling her back flush against his naked chest.

Ah, warmth. Delicious heat slid over her chilled skin and sank deeper, permeating muscle and bone. He ironed her back with the hard planes of his chest, while his hands stroked up and down her arms. He bent his head, and his breath warmed her ear. His hips nestled against her backside, and she felt the springy hair on his thigh tease against her smoother flesh. He held her surrounded, captive. The heat of his body relaxed and aroused her, all at once. She was melting in his arms, becoming languid and wet.

She started to pivot in his arms and face him, but he held her fast, forbidding her to turn.

He trailed one hand up her arm, then across, skimming his fingertips along her collarbone. Then his touch dipped, tracing the line of her sternum and continuing around to caress the underside of her breast. She felt his breath catch. Lily looked down, entranced by the way he balanced the soft, slight weight in his palm and circled her areola with his thumb. Her nipple puckered to a taut peak, seeking his touch.

He didn’t oblige, the teasing cad. Instead he drew his fingers back up her chest. She stretched her neck, reclining her head against his shoulder as he feathered light touches up her throat, surrendering to the lovely ripples of sensation.

Now she knew why he wouldn’t allow her to turn. If they faced each other, he would be the focus of her concentration. Was he saying something?, she would continually ask herself, scanning his expressions. Had she missed some important direction or cue? But standing like this, he freed her from incessant questioning and allowed her to simply respond.

His tongue flicked and swirled against her neck, raising the little hairs on her nape. He cupped her jaw, pressing his thumb to the corner of her lips. Her mouth fell open, and she panted as he traced the shape of her lips, then insinuated his thumb between them. He rubbed her tongue, and Lily knew a moment of uncertainty. Did he wish her to lick his thumb? To suckle it?

Obeying the urges of her own desire, she let her tongue flicker against the tip of his thumb. His growl of approval rumbled through her. But before she could continue, he withdrew his thumb from her mouth. In the next instant, he pressed that moistened pad against her erect nipple, shocking her with the brisk sensation.

Who could have suspected bliss to be so cold? With every frosty lick of his wet thumb over the sensitive bud, she envied the intimate lives of seals and Laplanders. The exquisite chill had her shivering with desire, and growing ever more aware of the hot ridge branding the small of her back.

His manhood ground against her, hard and insistent, as he plucked at both her ni**les now, cupping and shaping the mounds of her br**sts. He nuzzled and kissed her neck and ear. The air surrounding them grew rich with musk, and Lily dragged it in and out of her lungs in open-mouth gasps. She writhed her hips, hoping to lure those talented fingers lower. She needed his touch there, down between her legs.

When he brought his first and second fingers to her mouth, this time she opened for them readily, sucked them hungrily. Another surprise, how the simple act of suckling aroused her beyond measure. She pulled his fingers deeper into her mouth, tracing their full length with her tongue and thrilling to his palpable groan.

She fought his retreat, pursing her lips tight and whimpering around his fingers as they slid from her mouth. But all complaining ended when he applied the wet tips to her intimate flesh, parting her folds with one confident sweep and centering on the sensitive nub at their crest.

She cried out. Nearly faltered, but he held her fast with one arm cinched just below her br**sts, binding her to him as he worked that needy, aching bit of flesh. Her posture, with one foot propped on the step, eased his exploration. Just a few skillful swipes of his fingertips, and he had her on the brink of ecstasy. Her thighs quivered as she approached release.

Suddenly, she felt him shift behind her. The hard, muscular thigh that had bracketed hers now moved between her legs, spreading her wide. And the erection that had pressed against her back now sprang up snug between her legs. His hardness worked back and forth against her aroused flesh, stroking in delicious counterpoint to the steady motion of his fingertips.

She was so close. Teetering on the edge of bliss.

“Julian,” she gasped. “I need …”

But he knew what she needed. He pressed the tip of his arousal against her opening, nudging just inside. Not so much as to hurt her. Just enough to give her that full, tight sense of completion she craved. Her inner muscles stretched around his girth, and his fingers made feverish circles over her pearl.

She came apart, wracked by blissful shudders and inarticulate cries. He thrust, allowing her body to draw him in, steadily sheathing himself in her climax. The invasion hurt, but the pain dimmed in comparison to the bright, overwhelming pleasure. In the same way the cold against her nipple had only made her more aware of his heat.

She was aware of all of him now. Every hot, hard, powerful inch. He was inside her. He was hers.

After a few motionless moments, his grip on her waist slackened. He withdrew from her body, then helped her up the bed steps and onto the mattress, rolling her onto her back. Pillows bunched beneath her head as he arranged her limbs to his satisfaction and knelt between her thighs. After all this, she still had her stockings on. He didn’t seem to care. If a man could drink a woman in with his eyes, then Julian was taking great, thirsty gulps of her bosom.