Chase Me (Paris Nights Book 2)(15)

She’d met some pretty physical men in her life, men who liked to live with their senses wide open, but she’d never ever met anyone as unadulteratedly physical as he was. He just wallowed in the pleasure of everything about his body, and hers.

It drove her absolutely out of her mind. Her brain shut down for it and let her become purely physical, too.

“It’s not lace, but I think I’m enjoying these textures, too,” he said wickedly, stroking his finger down between the tight leather and her very wet panties, rubbing them against her.

“The texture could maybe stand to be a little…firmer,” she said, bucking.

“I know.” He sent her that wicked grin. “But making you ask for it is a hell of a lot more fun.”

“If you ever fall asleep around me, I’m going to tie you up and make you beg,” she swore, clutching his head.

“Hell, you’d kill me,” he realized, on a note between awe, hunger, and genuine alarm. “And here I’ve been revealing all my weaknesses for lace and knife-throwing leather, too. Now that is a deadly warning.” He opened his mouth over her panties for a deep hot breath against her.

Violette might actually have whimpered. The heat in her body had reached such a point she was surprised she didn’t burn her way through the door.

“You’re so hot,” he said. “If you’ll unzip your jacket for me, I might be willing to give you a little more pressure down here.” A teasing rub of his mouth over her panties.

Vi fumbled with her jacket zip as she tried to get it off. He did not help—teasing her, breathing on her, blowing gently against her. She finally got the damn jacket off and just threw it somewhere.

He looked up at her and tilted his head consideringly. “Okay, that’s not going to do it. You’re wearing a T-shirt!”

“You promised,” she said between her teeth.

“I promised a little more pressure.” He pressed his thumb against the leather, where it shielded her from the pressure she really wanted. He did press, but with that leather in the way…she gripped him, arching, fighting for what was so maddeningly elusive.

“If you want a lot more pressure, like in a…rhythm”—he blew her a kiss, his eyes so laughing and so aroused—“I think I’m going to have to insist you strip at least down to your bra.”

“When I tie you up,” she swore, “it’s going to involve…silk…and pink peekaboo panties…and maybe, if you’re really good at this, my mouth.” His thumb jerked a little against her. Ah, yes, almost what she needed. She twisted to try to get more of it, but he pulled it away. She swore. “And you’re going to cry.”

“You first,” he said, and rubbed his finger leisurely deeper through her weeping folds.

“Oh, hell, yeah,” she said and yanked her T-shirt off, throwing it across the room.

“Now that’s a view a man can get inspired by,” Chase said reverently, gazing up her torso to the black, lace-edged bra that cupped her breasts.

Yeah, she could get inspired by her view, too, down at that cocky, handsome man on his knees before her with his rogue’s humor as he used that beggar’s position to take all the power over her he wanted.

“How bad do you want it, baby?” he murmured, in a deep, deep voice that seemed to vibrate against her skin as he pressed his mouth to her panties. “Bad enough to come right here? With me watching?”

She whimpered again, her nails digging into his skull, her thighs trying to lock around his head like a vice. He forced them back open with an ease that shot even more heat through her. Her legs were strong. They should be strong enough to give his hands some resistance. And yet he pressed her inexorably wide again.

“Bad enough to come like this?” he coaxed in that deep, rich drawl, angling an arm so that he could still brace her thigh with it and press the leather against her sex.

She bit her lip, closing her eyes, breathing fast, chasing it.

He deepened the pressure, the leather riding against her in just the right spot. And began to work it. Her body relaxed in relief at the deliberate rhythm. Now he meant it. Now he was going to let her—

“I like this,” he breathed along the upper edge of her panties, then followed it with a stroke of his lips, as his thumb kept up that steady rhythm.

“Oh, merde,” she said, and came suddenly and dramatically, this wave crashing through her body that jerked her hard against the wood. Her elbow hit the doorknob and she grabbed onto it, rocking and rocking against him, utterly helpless before the massive rush of pleasure, this great flash flood of it, filled with adrenaline and surprise and delight, that just crashed through her and obliterated her.

“Hell, you are fine,” Chase said, hauling her into his arms as he came to his feet, hand still riding between her thighs as he found her bedroom and tossed her onto the bed, stretching the orgasm out, making it last.

It was too hard to last that long, though, and she pressed her hands over her face, shuddering and shuddering.

“Baby, baby, baby,” he muttered, pulling at her leather pants. He peeled them down her legs and came over her, his hand sliding back now under her panties to freely touch her slickness. She jerked a little, so vulnerable there now, almost too vulnerable for open touching. And yet she liked it soo…ooh…she moaned, shifting.