Mine to Take (Mine #1)(19)

Her legs were parted. His hips pushed against her sex, and it was good. So good.

He’d make it better. She knew he would.

“That’s what I’m doing tonight, baby,” the words rumbled against her lips. “I’m tasting, and I’m taking…everything.”

He lifted her hands above her head. Switched his hold so that just one of his hands imprisoned hers. Then his left hand snaked down her body.

Her bra was tossed across the room.

The cool air hit her nipples, making them go even tighter.

Then his mouth was on her. His mouth wasn’t cool. It was hot. Seeming to singe her and the rasp of his tongue against her nipples felt so good.

She was wet. She could feel the wetness on her panties, and Skye wanted them gone. She wanted Trace thrusting into her—

“I’ll let your hands go, but don’t move them. I get to touch. I get to taste.” His hands eased away from hers. “I get to take.”

She would be taking her pleasure, too. Trace liked to be in control in the bedroom, dominant, compelling and—

He was kissing his way down her body. His dark stubble pressed into her stomach. His tongue licked over her skin.

His fingers slid under the edge of her panties. “Fuck, yes,” he muttered. “Wet for me.”

She didn’t want to wait any longer. “Trace, now.”

“No.” He pulled the panties down her legs. Then his fingers slid up her thighs. Teased. Tormented her. “I’ve waited too long. I told you, I get to taste and take.”

Everything.

Her hands balled into fists so that she wouldn’t reach out to him.

It’s just sex. It’s just sex. The mantra flew through her head as her heart raced. She had to focus on the present, not the past. Everything got so tangled up when she was with him.

This wasn’t about love.

Sex. Pleasure.

His fingers slid between her legs. Pushed between the folds of her sex. Into her.

She arched off the bed. His thumb rubbed over her clit even as he thrust two fingers into her.

More. “Trace…” Skye could barely gasp out his name.

“You’re so gorgeous like this…” His words were dark, deep. “Flushed, open, ready for me…only me.”

His hands withdrew. No, dammit, she’d been close.

“Say it’s only me, Skye.”

Her lashes lifted. She didn’t even remember closing her eyes.

“Say it.” His mouth lowered to her sex. His lips pressed against her, and if his hands hadn’t moved to hold her hips against the mattress, she would have leapt off the bed at the first, electric touch of his tongue against her sex.

Pleasure beat at her as he tasted her. Her body twisted against the mattress. She wasn’t trying to get away from him. Skye wanted to get closer. Her fingers splayed wide, then grabbed the thick covers, bunching them in her fists.

Release was near, so near—

“Tell me, Skye,” he demanded. A dark note had entered his voice. One that should have made her hesitate. Possessive… fierce… “Only me.”

She hovered on the brink of release. “Trace, I need more—“

“I’ll give you every f*cking thing.”

A zipper hissed down. He lowered his body against hers.

He thrust into her.

Not easy. Not tentative.

He drove deep, filling her completely, and she stopped being on the brink. Pleasure flooded through her. She gasped as her heart raced, seeming to pound right out of her chest. Her whole body tightened as that release swept over her. So good…so perfect…on and on and on.

Trace kept thrusting. He grabbed her legs. Lifted them higher. Made her take more and more until she was frantic because another release was coming. She was hollowed out from the first one, but he was pushing the second wave on her, and she screamed this time, a broken yell because the pleasure hit her so hard.

Then he came. A hard, hot jet inside of her. “Only…” he growled.

She didn’t hear the rest of what he said. Her racing heartbeat drowned out the words, but she knew.

Only me.

Trace shuddered against her. He’d come, she’d felt that release, but he kept thrusting.

The pleasure didn’t end.

She’d never felt this way with anyone else. Never wanted and wanted and had her whole body explode with pleasure, one shattering climax after the other.

No one else.

Only Trace.

She hadn’t given him the words. But then, she didn’t need to.

He already knew.

Only me.

***

Rehearsal was always a chaotic time. Dancers swirled around the stage. Choreographers jumped in, corrected, advised. The director was there, shouting orders in the background.

It seemed both incredibly familiar and oddly foreign as Skye stood in the shadows, watching everyone else. It was barely past seven a.m., but, of course the dancers were working. By this time, they would have been working for at least two hours.

Sweating. Flying. Dancing until their muscles trembled.

This had been her life.

Without it, she’d been lost.

“Skye?” She recognized that voice, with its faint English accent. She’d known that Robert Wolfe would be there—since he was the lead choreographer, he had to be there. And Trace had been determined to question Robert. But…