All or Nothing at All
Page 38
“I’ve heard enough. You need to—”
“I kiss you deep and hard, making sure you know how much I want you. Your mouth is so wet and hot, just like I know your pussy will be. I can’t wait any longer, so I trail my fingers between your thighs, and when I brush your swollen clit, I know how bad you need me to take away the ache.”
He stopped a few inches away. Transfixed, her breath coming in choppy gasps, fists clenched, she seemed to struggle for sanity, but his words had already cast their spell. She’d always been turned on by his verbal foreplay, and a fierce flow of satisfaction rushed through him, knowing his voice could still drive her to the limit.
“But I don’t. I let you wait. The tips of your breasts are tight and achy, so I bend my head and take them into my mouth and suck hard. At the same time, my finger plays in your sweetness, sliding inside your drenched, tight heat, feeling you clench around my finger and pull me back in. Your body goes wild for me, until I pin you to the mattress to keep you still, wrench your legs apart, and slide inside in one quick thrust.”
She stayed perfectly still, caught up in the fantasy he wove around them. Lips parted, eyes glassy, she swayed slightly on her feet. He reached out slowly and tangled his fingers within her fiery curls, pulling her head back. Her neck arched in a perfect, vulnerable column. He lowered his head and breathed her in, drunk on the scent of musk and citrus. He pressed her slightly back so she was bent over the back of the couch. Her nipples stabbed through the silk of her blouse.
“Then I fuck you, Sydney. I bury my aching dick inside of you, thrusting like a wild man, needing to soak up and feast on every inch of your sweet body. Your pussy squeezes me, and you scream my name, and I feel you come all over me. I feel the sting of your nails digging into my shoulders and the way you shake underneath me, and I know the only thing I want in this world is to be able to do it again and again and again.”
His lips halted an inch from hers. His fists clenched in her hair. Still, he waited, needing her to be a full partner, needing her to be as crazed as he for one tiny taste, needing her to say it.
She shuddered. Licked her lips. And whispered, “Do it.”
His mouth crashed over hers.
Her lips opened under his, and their tongues tangled together while he drank her honeyed nectar with a hungry impatience as if making up for the time apart. Kissing her again was a primitive, animalistic leap into the unknown with no markers set up on the path. It was darkness and light, past and present, vicious hunger and aching tenderness. He couldn’t get enough.
Her hands were all over him, ripping his suit jacket off his shoulders and sliding her palms up his back, dragging him closer. The bite of her nails urged him on as he removed his fingers from her hair and dragged her skirt up to her hips, sliding back down to cup her full ass and lift her hard up against his chest.
A moan spilled from her lips. He swallowed it, nipping at the swollen flesh. She nipped back and reached for his tie, yanking him down closer, her thighs wrapped around his hips, the scent of her feminine arousal drifting to his nostrils.
She engulfed him whole with her scorching heat and raw need, until he was desperate to bury himself between her thighs and mark her forever. He slid his hand up the back of her knee, squeezing gently, then bumped against the barrier that was her panties.
“Oh, God, you’re soaked. I’m going to die.” He bit between her shoulder and neck, and she convulsed, arching into his hand. He licked her hard nipple through her blouse, then tugged with his teeth.
“Not until you touch me.” His tie was loosened, and she was struggling with the buttons on his shirt. He shifted her higher on top of the edge of the couch, and suddenly she yanked hard, popping the buttons off. They flew in every direction and skittered across the floor.
“Good girl.”
He kissed her hard, ravaging her tender mouth as he hooked a finger under the elastic of her panties and slipped inside. Her wet, swollen folds gripped him and held tight. He added another digit and teased her, his thumb brushing her bud in light butterfly strokes.
She bit his lip in punishment while her hands explored his chest, tugging on the whorls of hair, flicking his nipples, dragging her nails downward toward his belt buckle. All the while, her body shook as if caught in a fever, reaching toward climax, but he kept her on edge, refusing to let her fall over too soon.
In retaliation, her hands gripped his erection through his pants and squeezed. He jumped in her grip, cursing as she traced his length, her thumb pressing against the straining fabric.
“That’s it, you little witch. I’m done.”
Her dazed eyes didn’t register his next move. Pulling his fingers out of her dripping entrance, he lifted her high in the air and dumped her over the edge of the couch.
Her frustrated wail barely reached his ears before he followed her over. In seconds, he’d opened up her blouse and ripped down her panties so she was splayed before him in all her glory. Mad with lust, he gazed down at her. Skirt hiked up high around her hips, her pink flesh swollen and wet, heavy breasts straining against the white lace of her bra, hair tumbled around her shocked face. He savored every inch of her like a warrior claiming his spoils.
And she liked it. She had a hidden exhibitionist streak behind her sometimes-shy exterior, and it turned him on. He used to take her while he was still fully clothed, getting into the fantasy, but tonight he could only focus on burying himself deep inside her until he could rid himself of the brutal, throbbing ache of emptiness.
With slow, deliberate motions, he removed his belt. Unzipped his pants. Grabbed her fingers and placed them over his straining erection. Then pinned her with his gaze.
“You’re the only woman that can wreck me, Syd. I need you tonight. Don’t make me stop.”
He waited for the hesitation and swore he’d back off if she changed her mind. He needed her to want him just as badly, so badly she didn’t care about logic or the past or anything but how they craved each other until nothing else mattered.
She sat halfway up, her face inches from his. Gaze narrowed. Skin flushed, damp with perspiration, choppy breath rushing over his lips. His heart stopped, afraid she would send him away.
“Fuck me, Tristan.”
She ripped down his underwear and covered his mouth with hers.
Tristan pressed her deep into the cushions. With their mouths fused, he jerked against her soft, hot hands as she tortured him, his skin stretched so tight it skated the fine line between pain and pleasure. Drunk on her taste, he kissed her with a brutal force, unable to get enough, and finally ripped his mouth away from hers to drop down the length of her body.
“I kiss you deep and hard, making sure you know how much I want you. Your mouth is so wet and hot, just like I know your pussy will be. I can’t wait any longer, so I trail my fingers between your thighs, and when I brush your swollen clit, I know how bad you need me to take away the ache.”
He stopped a few inches away. Transfixed, her breath coming in choppy gasps, fists clenched, she seemed to struggle for sanity, but his words had already cast their spell. She’d always been turned on by his verbal foreplay, and a fierce flow of satisfaction rushed through him, knowing his voice could still drive her to the limit.
“But I don’t. I let you wait. The tips of your breasts are tight and achy, so I bend my head and take them into my mouth and suck hard. At the same time, my finger plays in your sweetness, sliding inside your drenched, tight heat, feeling you clench around my finger and pull me back in. Your body goes wild for me, until I pin you to the mattress to keep you still, wrench your legs apart, and slide inside in one quick thrust.”
She stayed perfectly still, caught up in the fantasy he wove around them. Lips parted, eyes glassy, she swayed slightly on her feet. He reached out slowly and tangled his fingers within her fiery curls, pulling her head back. Her neck arched in a perfect, vulnerable column. He lowered his head and breathed her in, drunk on the scent of musk and citrus. He pressed her slightly back so she was bent over the back of the couch. Her nipples stabbed through the silk of her blouse.
“Then I fuck you, Sydney. I bury my aching dick inside of you, thrusting like a wild man, needing to soak up and feast on every inch of your sweet body. Your pussy squeezes me, and you scream my name, and I feel you come all over me. I feel the sting of your nails digging into my shoulders and the way you shake underneath me, and I know the only thing I want in this world is to be able to do it again and again and again.”
His lips halted an inch from hers. His fists clenched in her hair. Still, he waited, needing her to be a full partner, needing her to be as crazed as he for one tiny taste, needing her to say it.
She shuddered. Licked her lips. And whispered, “Do it.”
His mouth crashed over hers.
Her lips opened under his, and their tongues tangled together while he drank her honeyed nectar with a hungry impatience as if making up for the time apart. Kissing her again was a primitive, animalistic leap into the unknown with no markers set up on the path. It was darkness and light, past and present, vicious hunger and aching tenderness. He couldn’t get enough.
Her hands were all over him, ripping his suit jacket off his shoulders and sliding her palms up his back, dragging him closer. The bite of her nails urged him on as he removed his fingers from her hair and dragged her skirt up to her hips, sliding back down to cup her full ass and lift her hard up against his chest.
A moan spilled from her lips. He swallowed it, nipping at the swollen flesh. She nipped back and reached for his tie, yanking him down closer, her thighs wrapped around his hips, the scent of her feminine arousal drifting to his nostrils.
She engulfed him whole with her scorching heat and raw need, until he was desperate to bury himself between her thighs and mark her forever. He slid his hand up the back of her knee, squeezing gently, then bumped against the barrier that was her panties.
“Oh, God, you’re soaked. I’m going to die.” He bit between her shoulder and neck, and she convulsed, arching into his hand. He licked her hard nipple through her blouse, then tugged with his teeth.
“Not until you touch me.” His tie was loosened, and she was struggling with the buttons on his shirt. He shifted her higher on top of the edge of the couch, and suddenly she yanked hard, popping the buttons off. They flew in every direction and skittered across the floor.
“Good girl.”
He kissed her hard, ravaging her tender mouth as he hooked a finger under the elastic of her panties and slipped inside. Her wet, swollen folds gripped him and held tight. He added another digit and teased her, his thumb brushing her bud in light butterfly strokes.
She bit his lip in punishment while her hands explored his chest, tugging on the whorls of hair, flicking his nipples, dragging her nails downward toward his belt buckle. All the while, her body shook as if caught in a fever, reaching toward climax, but he kept her on edge, refusing to let her fall over too soon.
In retaliation, her hands gripped his erection through his pants and squeezed. He jumped in her grip, cursing as she traced his length, her thumb pressing against the straining fabric.
“That’s it, you little witch. I’m done.”
Her dazed eyes didn’t register his next move. Pulling his fingers out of her dripping entrance, he lifted her high in the air and dumped her over the edge of the couch.
Her frustrated wail barely reached his ears before he followed her over. In seconds, he’d opened up her blouse and ripped down her panties so she was splayed before him in all her glory. Mad with lust, he gazed down at her. Skirt hiked up high around her hips, her pink flesh swollen and wet, heavy breasts straining against the white lace of her bra, hair tumbled around her shocked face. He savored every inch of her like a warrior claiming his spoils.
And she liked it. She had a hidden exhibitionist streak behind her sometimes-shy exterior, and it turned him on. He used to take her while he was still fully clothed, getting into the fantasy, but tonight he could only focus on burying himself deep inside her until he could rid himself of the brutal, throbbing ache of emptiness.
With slow, deliberate motions, he removed his belt. Unzipped his pants. Grabbed her fingers and placed them over his straining erection. Then pinned her with his gaze.
“You’re the only woman that can wreck me, Syd. I need you tonight. Don’t make me stop.”
He waited for the hesitation and swore he’d back off if she changed her mind. He needed her to want him just as badly, so badly she didn’t care about logic or the past or anything but how they craved each other until nothing else mattered.
She sat halfway up, her face inches from his. Gaze narrowed. Skin flushed, damp with perspiration, choppy breath rushing over his lips. His heart stopped, afraid she would send him away.
“Fuck me, Tristan.”
She ripped down his underwear and covered his mouth with hers.
Tristan pressed her deep into the cushions. With their mouths fused, he jerked against her soft, hot hands as she tortured him, his skin stretched so tight it skated the fine line between pain and pleasure. Drunk on her taste, he kissed her with a brutal force, unable to get enough, and finally ripped his mouth away from hers to drop down the length of her body.
