She hadn’t anticipated that. “You could pull the shades,” she breathed out roughly.
His smile was sexy, dark and exciting. “I like the way you look in the sunlight,” he told her. “I want to see it washing over those pretty breasts.”
His hands went to the buttons of her dress and Sarah froze. She watched his face as he loosened them. There were dozens, from the high bodice to the hem of the dress. Each one that slipped free filled her with more dread, knowing what he would see.
Would it turn him off? The scars were horrendous. Glaring. She felt her breath still in her lungs as she looked over his shoulder, waiting, fighting back the tears. She’d just wanted to know. She’d thought he’d take her on the deck maybe. Her skirt around her thighs. That she’d at least find release before she had to face this.
Cooper’s eyes narrowed as Sarah tightened, tensed, with each tiny button that came loose. By the time he reached her stomach and pushed back the edges of the silky material, revealing her swollen, pretty breasts, she was stiff as a board.
Stiff. Almost frightened.
And he saw why. His fingers feathered over the six, very faint white lines across the tops of her breasts. As though a razor blade had sliced into the delicate skin just deep enough to scar. They weren’t zagged or puckered. Almost as though someone had drawn the thin lines over the tops of each curve.
“We’ll discuss these later,” he told her softly.
She stared over his shoulder, her face pale now. He knew shame when he saw it, knew the fear in a woman’s face when she thought something about herself was unattractive.
Watching her, he lowered his head, letting his tongue follow first one faint line, then another.
At the first touch, she flinched. At the second, he felt her forcing herself not to respond. By the time he reached the sixth, her eyes were closed, fists clenched at her sides as she fought to hold on to the arousal and the control.
“Do you think those faint little lines are going to get you out of this, Sair?” He reared up on his knees, pulling her up, dragging the dress over her hips before pulling it over her head.
Surprised, she lifted her arms, staring up at him as he pushed her back to the bed.
“Hell. God have mercy,” he groaned, sliding from the bed.
He pulled her sandals off her feet, but left the little toe ring she wore. He toed off his boots and shed his jeans so fast it was a wonder he hadn’t scraped his dick with the zipper.
Fuck. His hands were shaking.
She was spread out before him like the sexiest little feminine banquet he had ever laid his eyes on. Gold rings pierced her nipples. Little rings that circled the tight, hard buds. Tightening around them.
“Oh, I bet that feels good.” He leaned over her, watching her eyes dilate as he lowered his head and licked over first one tight bud, then the other.
Sarah jerked, cried out. She felt the sensation clear to her womb, white-hot ribbons of pleasure striking at her, convulsing her lower stomach.
The gold rings that surrounded her nipples had never felt so good. Just the slightest pressure around the hard points. The rasp of his tongue over them. It was the most pleasure she had ever known.
Then, he covered a tip, sucked it into his mouth. Sensation slammed to her womb, arched her, convulsed her stomach. Her eyes went wide, and her fingers, almost of their own volition, rose until her nails were digging into his shoulders.
“There you go, Sair.” He breathed a rough breath over her nipple. “Enjoy me, baby. I fully intend to enjoy you.”
The rough sexiness of his voice destroyed her. Washed over her. Filled her senses and in the haze she forgot to be self-conscious. She forgot about the scars. Forgot about the past. All she knew was this. The man. The touch. And finally, the pleasure.
“Oh. Yes.” The words escaped her lips, escaped her soul as she felt his fingers touch her between her thighs now.
Her clit was swollen as it had never been before. The little metal ball of the piercing pressed against it, creating an incredible friction.
He wasn’t in a hurry. And she wished he was. She wished she could finally touch the ecstasy that always managed to stay just out of reach.
“Please,” she whispered as his lips moved to her other nipple, sucked it in, drew on it.
Her skin was so sensitive. Each brush of his flesh against hers was killing her. She needed him.
“Ethan, I hurt,” she panted, her head tossing, lost in the pleasure. “Oh God. I need you so bad it hurts.”
Cooper almost froze. No one called him Ethan. Not since he was a boy. They called him Cooper. He was Cooper. Even his lovers called him Cooper. Until Sair.