Angel in Scarlet (Bound and Determined #4)(83)

The cool air of the cabin hit her most secret places, making her even more aware of them. Now she did lay her head forward, relaxing, waiting.

Colton’s breathing was loud. She could hear his every inhale and exhale, hear the sudden starts and stops.

Was he pleasuring himself as he had before? It was so easy to imagine his hand moving, the long slow stroke, the steady pressure, the near-purple head shiny with moisture, that single throbbing vein.

The thought made her breathless. She wanted to taste him again, to feel his weight within her mouth.

Only she wanted him in her. Her very core ached with want and need.

She could feel her own wetness on her thighs, feel the ever-tightening coil of her clit.

God, she wanted to touch herself, wanted him to touch her.

She almost begged.

Then he was stroking up her leg, his fingers massaging her eager flesh.

She started to turn.

“Stay still.”

A finger drifted down her leg, then started up again at her ankle and ran along her calf, pausing to tickle the back of her knee, circling, playing, teasing.

Then higher.

It reached the upper swell of her thigh but moved no higher before sweeping down to slowly rise again on the other.

More. She wanted more. Needed more.

A quiet moan slipped through her lips.

“Do you want more, my angel?”

“Please.”

The touch moved up to the very top of her thighs, pausing before the apex.

Another moan.

“Patience. Patience.”

All she wanted was to rub herself against him like a cat being petted.

He moved his hand slightly higher, letting it part her damp curls.

And higher still, until it hit that magic spot.

She was going to orgasm within moments. It was all she could do not to thrust her hips farther toward him, not to…Another hand came down on her buttocks, warm and firm, massaging—good, so good.

If she were that cat, she’d be purring. His fingers slipped down between her cheeks into the moisture. They ran over her—and back again, teasing, always teasing.

“Do you want to come now? Or should I make you wait for me?”

“Now. No, wait. No, now.”

“As decisive as ever, my angel.”

It was too much. She thrust her hips back, begging with her whole body.

She could feel his heat. She shifted farther, bringing herself against him, letting her behind rub the front of his thighs and…God, there it was. His cock, firm and full beneath the fabric of his breeches. She wanted it in her, wanted to be filled.

Rubbing harder, she tried to urge him, to make him do what she needed.

“Be still,” he ordered.

No. No. She was going to die if something didn’t happen soon. She wanted more, a slow fire turning into an inferno. Ignoring him, she pressed back again. She too could tease.

And then suddenly she was pushed forward until her hipbones pressed tight into the bed, her face deep in the quilts. She turned her head to breathe and—a sharp swat landed on her buttocks.

She cried out at the surprise even as the heat sped to her core, fuel for the fire that burned there.

Her legs needed to squeeze tight, needed, needed…She was nothing but need. Hot, raging need.

“I didn’t mean to do that yet—but I can’t say I didn’t enjoy it,” he whispered into her neck, bending over her, his hands tangling in her hair and tugging on her head.

“I don’t care, just make it happen. I can’t bear it anymore.”

“Soon.” His lips nibbled at the side of her neck. “I wish you could see yourself, marked by my bite, by my palm. So sweet. So willing. So mine.” He nipped her after each word, a thousand tingles of pleasure running through her, about her. “Your ass is so pale and perfect against the red print of my hand, rising and forming. You will feel it tomorrow.”

“Like fire running through me, filling me.” She pushed her hips back, wanting more and at the same time terrified of it.

She didn’t know what she wanted; all she knew was what she felt.

He pushed away from her and stood straight. His hand came down upon her behind again, this time first soothing, caressing, easing her pain, and then separating her cheeks.

“God, the things I’d like to do to you,” he groaned. His fingers slipped between her cheeks, sliding over her nether hole. Her whole body tensed. And tensed more as his fingers slipped into her juices again, wet and slick. One finger circled her entrance and then slid in a fraction of an inch, stretching. Another finger joined it. The tips barely penetrated, and she wanted more.

She was tired of need, tired of waiting.

And his hands were gone. She felt movement behind her.

Then she was turned and lifted, laid sideways across the bed, her hips just at the edge. He lifted her knees, opening her fully.

She looked up at his face, saw the strain, the desperation, the need and desire that matched her own.

And something more, something warm and caring—and loving.

I do love you, Angela.

She had been afraid to believe, was still afraid to believe, but something in the way his eyes moved over her said more than words. He wanted her, but it was more—he needed her, but it was more. He might love what she allowed him to do, love the desire that filled her and met his own—but still it was more.