Rock Hard (Rock Kiss #2)(76)

“Fair,” she whispered and, lifting her hands to her bodice, began to slip those tiny, tempting buttons out of their holes. He watched as each sweet inch of flesh was revealed, his hands tightening on her thighs.

“That’s it, sweetheart,” he murmured as the black lace of her bra came into view, the scalloped edge an erotic contrast to the paleness of her skin there. The scars were white and slightly raised, and they told him Charlotte was a fighter. He would see only her in them, he vowed, never the psychopath who’d hurt her. And what he saw was a woman who made him want to devour her.

Charlotte’s fingers trembled. “When you look at me like that,” she said, “I want to do everything you ask me.”

“Good.” He kissed her other thigh. “I have all kinds of ideas about debauching you.”

She shivered. “I love the things you say.” Having undone the final button, she reached up and pushed off the wide straps of her dress, baring one rounded shoulder, then the other.

The spicy, warm scent of her arousal made his hunger voracious, but he kept vicious control on himself—watching Charlotte be this confident was beautiful. In front of him, she dropped her arms and let the straps fall off her wrists. Her plump breasts were cupped in that pretty black lace she’d worn for him, the straps made of the same material.

“Should I…” She raised her fingers to the bra straps.

Pulling her closer, he said, “Bend down to me.”

Charlotte’s hands landed on his shoulders. He wanted to grip her nape, hold her in position, but that, he’d figured out, was what had triggered her last panic attack. In the meantime, he’d enjoy how she held him that way when they kissed, so unmistakably possessive.

Tasting her lips, he licked his tongue over hers before kissing a path down her lusciously sensitive throat. “You taste like my woman,” he said as she moaned.

Leaving the bra in place, he kissed his way over the delicate lace and even more delicate skin to suck the taut pink tip of her nipple into his mouth. She cried out, her hands locking in his hair. Gripping one pebbled nipple between his teeth, he tugged, and it wasn’t exactly gentle. Her whimper was no complaint. When she inched closer, her scent wafted to his nose, made his nostrils flare, his instincts buck at the reins.

Releasing her nipple, he placed his hand on her stomach and pressed. She moved back, her arms sliding from around his neck, but he felt a resistance in her abdominal muscles when he would’ve nudged her flat onto her back. He removed his hand, happy to have her seated with her hands braced behind her if that made her feel safer, more in control.

Pushing up her dress again, he used his body to keep her thighs spread and one hand to keep the fabric from sliding back down. “My pretty Charlotte.” He ran a finger down the center of her *, felt his cock jerk in his pants at the slickness he found. Her hot little moan erased any doubts he might’ve had that she was enjoying this.

“Hold the dress, Ms. Baird.”

The instant she obeyed, he slid one hand around to splay on the bare skin of her lower back, stroked one of her thighs over his shoulder, and leaned down to gorge on the delicious woman in his arms.

Fuck, she tasted good.

Her cries were shocked and soft, almost secret, but she didn’t push him away. One hand came back to fist in his hair, her body rewarding each lick and suck with honey slickness. When he scraped his teeth over her, she shuddered, her fingers tightening in his hair. Yeah, Charlotte could take him.

Licking away the erotic hurt, he ran one palm along her silky-soft inner thigh. “I’m going to use my fingers on you,” he said, looking up to find her giving a dazed nod. “I’m a big guy.” Thumb on her clit, he circled the rough pad of his index finger at her core.

Her lips parted on another one of those quiet, secret cries that went straight to his cock.

“I,” he said, nudging his finger just inside, “have to”—he rubbed her clit—“make sure”—a flick with his thumb that had her shuddering—“you can take me.” He thrust his finger home.

Her back arched, her breasts gorgeously displayed. “Gabriel.” A husky, breathless whimper. “That’s… a very thick finger.”

Smiling, he pressed a kiss to her navel. “It’s a clever one too.” Returning to her *, he put both his finger and his tongue to good use until she was squirming against him, begging for release in soft gasps that made him want to growl like a damn beast and f*ck her stupid, just ram into her until she forgot her own name.

Raising his head instead, he took both of her hands and put them on his shoulders, then eased her trembling thigh down from his shoulder. Lips parted and kiss-swollen, pupils dilated against the hazel of her irises, Charlotte watched him as he moved his own hands down to undo his belt, lower the zipper.

“Get the condoms,” he said, wanting to make dead sure she hadn’t changed her mind, was with him.

Her pulse skittered in her neck, but she turned to reach for the briefcase he’d left on another chair, one of her bra straps falling down her arm as she did so. He loved how thoroughly used she already looked, all mussed and flushed and with red marks on her inner thighs from his stubble.

While she opened the briefcase, he kept himself busy by releasing his cock.

“Where are they?” A husky question.

“Inside pocket, left side.” Having given that instruction, he spread her thighs wider and suckled a kiss on the sensitive skin beside her knee while running his finger through her slickness again. Plump and wet and his, she was f*cking beautiful.