Lovegame(89)

She whimpers as I push to my feet, and I murmur softly to her as I bend down and pick her up. Nonsense words. Soothing words. Sweet nothings that are meaningless on their own, but together provide the reassurance that she craves.

That we both crave.

Once I’ve got her in my arms, she wiggles until she’s wrapped around me like a limpet—her arms around my neck, her legs around my hips. She fits perfectly, like she was made to be there. Her breasts soft against my chest, her sex so warm and wet against my cock that I can feel her even through the fabric of my pants.

I pull her closer still, twine my arms around her waist and slide my hands down to cup her ass as I stumble toward the hallway. “Where’s your room, love?” I whisper in her ear.

I want to stretch her out on her bed, to kiss and lick and worship her body the way she deserves to be worshipped.

But she shakes her head, says, “Not my room,” even as her hips rock desperately against mine.

Every cell in my body is screaming for me to take her, to bury myself so deep inside of her that nothing will ever tear us apart. But her words pull me up short and I lean back so I can see her face. So that I can make sure she wants this as much as I do.

So that I can make sure that she’s okay.

She is, her face soft and aroused and needy, so needy that just looking at her sends a shock of heat through every part of me. But there’s a vulnerability there, too, one I haven’t seen before, and it makes me desperate to give her whatever she wants. Desperate to make her as happy, as content, as satisfied as I can.

With that thought in mind, I press my lips softly to hers, then revel in how easily her mouth opens under mine.

In how she licks her way inside my mouth and tangles her tongue with mine.

In how she sucks my lip between her teeth and bites down gently.

—

We stay like that for long seconds that turn into longer, more languorous minutes. And in this moment—in this kiss—she is the aggressor. She is the one who takes me, the one who licks and nips and nuzzles and bites at my mouth until I am lost in the pleasure of it all. Until I am lost in her completely. I’m breathless when she finally pulls back. My knees weak. My body trembling with want. My whole being aching with need.

She does it so easily. Makes me crave her like a junkie with an open, aching vein. Like an addict lost forever to the soul-searing pleasure of her sensuality.

“Where do you want me to take you, baby? Where do you want me to love you?” The word slips out, but I’m not sorry I said it. Any more than I’m sorry she heard it. How can I be when her body trembles so beautifully against mine?

She waves a hand behind her, gestures to the French doors that lead to the patio.

“Outside?” I ask even as I move that way. “You want me to make love to you outside?”

“Mhmmm.” The sound is muffled against my neck and I wait for Veronica to confirm, but she’s too busy licking her way up my throat to say anything else.

And just that easily, I go up in flames.

Holding her against me with one hand, I fumble for the door handle with the other. When I find it, I shove it open and the two of us nearly tumble out onto the cold cement of the patio.

I catch myself—catch us—in time, and instead tumble her straight onto the double chaise lounge that’s only a few feet from the door.

She lays back on it as soon as her ass connects with the fabric, spreading her legs in obvious invitation as she looks up at me through heavy-lidded eyes. And when she lifts her hand to her mouth, when she circles her crazy, perfect, million dollar mouth with one merlot-tipped finger, it’s all I can do not to fall on her like an animal.

How does she do this to me? I wonder as I sink to my knees beside her. How the f*ck does she make me this crazy, this fast? I’ve spent my whole life trying to be more than this, trying to fight my baser instincts, and all it takes is one taste, one touch, one look from her and I forget everything but being inside of her.

“Ian!” My name is a broken cry on her lips, one that shoots straight to my screaming cock and has me clawing for a control that I know I won’t find. “Please, I need you. I need—” Her voice breaks, her body moving restlessly against the dark fabric of the chaise lounge.

I grit my teeth, force myself to hold back when all I want is to fall on her like a starving man. “Soon, baby. Just let me—”

“Now,” she says, tangling one hand in my hair as she tries to pull me over her. “I need you now.”

She’s bucking against me, her back arching, her full breasts pushing against the thin, transparent cups of her f*ck-me red bra and it’s making me insane. She’s beautiful—so goddamned, heartrendingly beautiful—that I can barely breathe, barely think.

I reach a hand out, stroke my fingers gently down her throat. She cries out, her hand coming to rest over mine as she drags my hand over her collarbone and down the slope of her breast to the tip of her velvety hard nipple. My fingers tighten of their own volition, and I pinch hard enough to make it sting. Hard enough to have her nails digging into the back of my hand. More than hard enough to have her crying out as her whole body bows off the lounger.

“Ian, please,” she gasps out. “Please. Do it. Do—” Her voice breaks again.

I wanted to go slow, wanted to draw this out until she was drowning in the tenderness I have inside myself for her. Wanted to stoke the flames inside of her slowly, slowly, slowly. After all, it’s only been a couple days since I first made love to her on that kitchen table. Since I had to coax her body—and her mind—into responding to me.