Angel in Scarlet (Bound and Determined #4)(88)

A soft moan escaped.

“Didn’t you say your mother was next door, my sweet angel?” He whispered so quietly it was hard to be sure he had actually spoken.

She nodded.

“Then perhaps we will have to find something to fill your sweet lips to keep them quiet.”

With a smile she turned, letting her face come to rest against his chest. She placed a soft kiss just above his heart, wishing it were possible to say the words she had come to know deep in her soul. Another kiss. And then another, each one slightly lower.

Her mouth watered with what she knew was coming. She tilted her chin, looking up at him, slicking her lips with moisture.

“You are an eager little angel, aren’t you?” he said again in that magical low tone. “Do you think you deserve your reward?”

One of his hands came forward, catching her between her legs, pressing the fine linen against her, his fingers sure and steady.

She had to bite down hard to keep another moan from escaping. The linen felt rough against her delicate skin, despite its fineness. His foot pressed against one of hers, pushing it wider. His fingers worked the fabric against her, the abrasion sending a thousand needles of delight through her. His other hand was at her back then, gathering up the shift until it was well above her waist.

His fingers cupped her behind, massaging and separating her cheeks. She leaned her face tight against him, burying it in his chest, as she could not hold back her very audible groan of pleasure and need.

He stopped moving instantly, his hands stilling. He pushed her from him slightly. “Now, that was very naughty, my angel. I think you may have earned a punishment—at the very least you must now finish your task before you get your reward.” He placed a hand upon her shoulder and gently pushed her down.

As she slid down to her knees, Angela wanted to tell him that this was no task; it was as much a reward as anything else. She blew softly against his flap, seeing him jerk and grow.

Looking up for permission, she reached for the buttons and released him, so thick and heavy. With one finger she traced the vein that ran along the underside of his cock, before reaching with her tongue to taste the single drop of fluid that clung to the end.

Her lips parted and she slid her mouth forward, taking him inch by inch, reaching forward until breathing was almost impossible. She pulled back and then slid forward again. This time when she pulled back, she looked up, seeing the strain and effort on his face. His lips were tight and pressed together.

He was having as much trouble suppressing a moan as she had. She sucked her lips tighter, drawing him as deep as she could, feeling the pressure on the back of her throat. Her tongue flicked along the underside, each movement causing his whole body to jerk.

There was such power in this—and such pleasure.

His hands tangled in her hair as he forced her to his pace, speeding and slowing. She gave control willingly; his pleasure was her pleasure.

He tensed suddenly and she thought the moment had come, but then abruptly she found herself lifted to standing and turned. Her breasts pressed against the window as his hand squeezed a nipple tight. It was all she could do not to cry out as he twisted lightly at the peak, still swollen from this morning. The pain zapped down between her legs, just as a hand wrapped about her, the fingers again seeking and finding that perfect spot between her legs.

Her shift was raised again. She felt him behind—and then he was in her, filling her, stretching flesh still tender from the first time. She bit down as he pounded hard, pushing her with some force against the cold glass. The ache in her core ebbed for the briefest of moments and then grew tenfold. She tilted her hips, wanting more, needing more.

“Do you think anybody’s out there, looking up?” he whispered.

Could there be? She peered out into the darkness, her mind filled with the image of what she must look like pressed tight against the window, her white shift so thin it hid nothing and raised high to her waist—and his hand: There could be no mistaking what his hand was doing. What a sight it must be.

His fingers slipped about her clit, squeezing and releasing, even as he thrust hard into her from behind.

Her body was moving with his now, forward, back. Each thrust coiling her tighter, drawing her closer to the point where she would burst. Her breathing was fast and labored, all her energy focused on staying quiet.

Colton’s lips found the base of her neck, first nuzzling, but then his teeth pressed harder.

She was not the only one trying to smother any possible sound. His movements grew frantic, plunging deeper and deeper. His fingers stroking and squeezing her, bringing her further and further into a world of sensation. The cold of the glass against her swelling breasts. The bite of his teeth upon her neck. The fullness of his every thrust. The ache growing greater and greater.

She couldn’t take more. She couldn’t.

Only she did. He demanded and she gave.

Higher and higher she rose.

Then he plunged in deep, stilled.

“Now,” he whispered. “Come for me now.” He pulled out once, his fingers loosened—and then he thrust hard, his fingers pinching, the nails biting.

And she burst. A blur of color and wonder. Her arm rose to catch her cry, teeth biting tender flesh.

She felt him behind, felt him surge and cry silently, tension climaxing—and then the instant slowness of relaxation.

His head sank to her shoulder, his full weight resting against her, pressing her even tighter to the window. Her legs struggled to stay firm, even as she wanted to sag to the floor.