Angel in Scarlet (Bound and Determined #4)(79)

Her back arched, her hips moving into contact with his thighs. He longed to spread his legs wide, to flip up her skirts, and pull her close. His mouth watered at the thought of burying himself deep, of giving in to his every instinct.

Instead, he held firm, keeping his every movement gentle, caressing, as he moved from breast to breast.

She was still tense with anticipation, waiting for him to increase the pace, to up the progression, so he continued slow and easy, waiting, waiting for her to yield against him, for her body to become used to his touch. He licked and laved, every touch tender. Soft sighs escaped her lips, each one causing his prick to throb. God, waiting was hard—in so many ways.

When at last he could feel her giving in to the sensation, he sucked harder, scraping his teeth against her. Her sighs turned to moans. He drew her deeper into his mouth, tugging hard as he felt her nipples elongate and swell.

He pulled back, admiring his work. She was so beautiful, full white flesh curving up to those tight red peaks, ripe berries on a mound of whipped cream, only sweeter, more delicious.

Half opened, her eyes stared down at him. His tongue darted out to lick one taut tip, and her body responded, tightening.

He longed to run a hand up her leg, beneath her skirts, to feel the dampness of her upper thighs, the sweet wetness of her cunny. He pulled her forward, over one thigh, until her legs splayed about him. He could feel her quiver of response as she rubbed against his hard muscles. Her thighs trembled.

He closed his mouth about her again, bringing his other hand forward to work at her other breast, to pinch and play, as his lips and tongue and teeth devoured. Her breasts rose and fell in response to his every move. With great care, he finally slid one of his hands beneath her skirt, skating his fingers up her thigh but stopping as he felt the first glimmer of moisture.

“Please,” she mouthed, although she made no sound.

“Soon,” he whispered, watching her every response with care.

He let his fingers play just beneath the touch of her curls as he continued to worry her breasts, feeling their increased sensitivity, the way they responded to his every stroke and nip.

His free hand reached out and grabbed a clip then, moving it toward her slowly. Her eyes were focused on his face and she did not perceive his motion. He sucked once more upon her nipple, enjoying how it filled his mouth, enjoying the taste of her skin, the quiver of her flesh. Then he lifted his head and stared at her again, admiring the slight red marks left by fingers and teeth and the darker red of her nipples, hot and bothered but wanting more, so much more.

Her eyes met his and he slid his lower hand higher, until it just brushed her flesh. And then higher still. A swift intake of breath from both of them as he found the wonder of her clit. She rose up on her toes for a second, avoiding his touch, and then settled down, pressing herself tight into his fingers. He slid them back and forth, careful not to press too tight. It was not time for that yet. She tried to bring herself against his hand, but he moved, forcing her to patience.

He focused again on her breasts, even as he stroked. He saw her eyes finally catch the movement, watched as they grew large. He opened the clip, watched the fright and anticipation fill her.





Chapter 23


He was really going to do it. Angela swallowed, hard, as she watched the golden clip move toward her. Colton watched her with care, giving her every chance to demur. She did not, although an edge of fear grew in her belly.

She lifted her eyes to his and held them, trying to find her sense of adventure.

His fingers moved between her legs again, warm and delicious. Little fires flickered and grew. She felt the coil tighten; her body wanted more. She moved against him, trying to think of nothing but the feelings running through her body.

Yet her eyes were drawn back to that clip and the sense of dread it represented.

She was not ready. She wanted to be. She wanted to be what he needed.

She pulled in a deep breath. She could do this.

She would do this.

And then the clip dropped, landing beside him on the bed, then falling to the floor with a clatter.

Startled, her eyes jerked up to his.

“We don’t need that,” he said.

“But—”

“You are not ready.”

“No, I want to.” Or at least she wanted to want to.

“No, you don’t. I see the same look in your eyes that I did with Granderson.”

She started to open her mouth to deny it but could not find the words. He was right. “But, you need—”

“No, I don’t. I have asked you trust me. I will do you the same favor. I will trust that someday we will get there—and if we do not, then we will find a different path to travel.”

“I think that…”

And then his fingers moved between her legs again, pressing, pinching, stroking.

She tried again. “I am willing to—”

A finger pressed up into her. It was becoming impossible to be still. Her mind filled with nothing but pleasure, but she needed to try, needed to be sure he knew. “Are you certain? How will you ever know if we don’t…?”

“Angela, I trust you—and I trust this.” His fingers moved, pressing farther into her in a way she had never imagined.

“But…”

“No more talking.” He leaned forward and placed the gentlest of kisses upon her lips, even as a finger pressed in again and then pulled out.