Chase Me (Paris Nights Book 2)(16)

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah,” he muttered, hand delving along the length of her in long strokes up and down. “Yes, go. Keep going. Oh, yeah.”

The waves came back at her, taking her again, this flood-tossed, I-can-barely-breathe-now second orgasm like being borne exhausted back to some shore.

“Oh, God.” She bit into the side of her arm as the waves slowly lapped down and let her rest. “Oh, God.”

“You and me both, baby.” Chase was stripping off clothes and his vest, shoving them off his body with the speed of a firefighter in reverse. “God, you are so damn fine.” He kicked his underwear off his ankles and stood there completely naked.

Oh, wow. Wow. Wow. And he said she was fine. She had never seen a body so ripped and hard in her life. If-I-wrestled-a-T-Rex-I-would-win hard. Tough and big and utterly cut.

“Bordel.” She brought her hands to her lips. “Tu es…”

“Oh, God, yes, tell me dirty things in French,” he muttered, coming down over her. “And then translate. Translate every. Single. Word.” He kissed her, hot and deep, taking her mouth like he was f*cking it, this devouring pleasure.

Having given her two orgasms and won his challenge, he was quite obviously focused on his own pleasure now, and she loved it. She loved that kissing was part of his pleasure, this glorious, deep kissing, over and over and over, as his hands gripped her head and dragged down her body, as he found the catch of her bra and got it off her, as he slid both his hands to grip her butt too hard and then got her panties out of the way.

“Did I win that challenge, honey?” he managed, his voice rough as he scraped his jaw down her throat and suckled against her collarbone.

“What if I said you didn’t?” she couldn’t resist asking as she wrapped her thighs around him.

“Then you sure as hell better not complain and beg me to stop five or six orgasms from now.” He cupped her breasts. “Oh, f*ck, these are so pretty. Are you daring me?” He paused with his thumbs held just above her nipples.

She hesitated.

His eyes narrowed just a little, and that blue gleamed dark with the love of challenge.

“No,” she decided quickly. “No, uh, not…this time.”

He grinned in pure triumph.

“Well, I’m daring you to do it,” she said, and wrapped her thighs tight around him, sliding her hands under her legs to grip his butt as hard as she could.

He loved that, his butt muscles clenching as he thrust toward her. “Fuck, half a second,” he remembered suddenly and rolled away, scrambling for his clothes. He sheathed himself so fast she actually wrapped a hand around him to double-check he had done it right.

He grinned, thrusting into her hand in luxurious pleasure. So she squeezed.

“I must have a guardian devil,” he breathed. “And he’s finally beaten that damn guardian angel off my other shoulder. Thank you.”

That thank you seemed to be directed more toward the guardian devil than to her, but she smiled, feeling about as smug as a woman could who had just had two orgasms and was no longer in a rush herself but ready to thoroughly enjoy driving a man out of his mind. She squeezed and drew her hand up the length of him and then back down.

He flipped her over, lifting her hips. She smiled as she braced on her forearms and arched her back.

He breathed a series of awed curses. She lowered her cheek to her pillow and rubbed it there, just for the pleasure of the texture as she savored his delight.

His hands caressed her butt almost worshipfully, as if she was fragile, those calluses shivering up through her body everywhere. Then he bent and bit her butt, just hard enough, with just enough tickle from his jaw, to make her yelp a little and laugh.

He rubbed his hand between her legs from behind until he could slip a finger into her sex in a slow, luxurious exploration and a verification that she was ready. She squeezed all her inner muscles against his finger.

He gave a low, burring sound of pleasure, thrusting again and then again, working her, making sure. She stretched her arms awkwardly behind her, taking her own weight on her face and shoulders, as she grabbed for his butt and managed to reach his thighs, pulling against those great muscles.

He arched her a little farther to make his access easy and then with a sighing f*ck of delight thrust into her.

Mmmm. She pulled on him harder, bringing him deeper. “Don’t stop.”

“Please tell me that’s not a challenge,” he said as he thrust deep, deep, deep enough that she gave a little gasp and had to relax her muscles again. “Don’t you dare ask me to keep this up for a damn hour.”

She smiled into the pillow. “All right, then, hurry up.” She tugged on his thighs as hard as she could from that angle.

He bent over her back, his voice that deep, luxurious drawl. “How about I take my own sweet time?” He drew a callused hand down her spine.

She shivered with pleasure. After an intense day on her feet, controlling everything, there was perhaps nowhere on her body hungrier for touch than her back.

“Like that, sweetheart?” he murmured, broadening his strokes of her back to her shoulders, then tightening his hands on her shoulders as he thrust deep into her again. And deep again.

God, he felt good. She bit into her lip with the pleasure of it, shaking her head a little against her pillow as every texture, cotton sheets, skin, pressure inside and out, became delicious. He stroked down her arms, found her hands, and threaded his fingers with hers, locking her hands to the mattress. “And that?”