She gripped his rib cage, her fingertips sinking into the dense muscles of his back, her nails digging through the fabric of his shirt. When he groaned into her mouth and broke their kiss, she sought him again, craning up to nip at his lips. She saw his small snarl.
“Come here, Laila.”
He lifted her off her feet, and he was kissing her again, wild, deep and wholesale. She clung to his neck, feeling herself moving. Sailing. But mostly, her entire awareness was dominated by his hot, hungry kiss. He laid her down on her back. She blinked her eyes open when his mouth left her. He stood by the edge of the bed he’d laid her on, his expression fierce as he looked down at her.
“From the moment I first saw you, heard you even, something told me you were mine,” he said. “I didn’t realize it at the time, but now . . . it seems so obvious.”
She held her breath
when he leaned down and traced her skin along the top of her dress, his fingertips gliding over the tops of her breasts. With his other hand, he caressed her arm so lovingly, it made her ache. “I’m going to make you mine, Laila.”
“Yes,” she said, the single word saying it all: yes, to the risk . . . to the deeper . . .
. . . To him.
Holding her stare, he began to unbutton her dress. It would have been easier for her to just slip it over her head, but she didn’t say anything, enthralled by his expression as his fingers descended down the middle of her body.
Finally, he parted the fabric and just looked down at her. She wore only her panties beneath the dress. Her skin felt flushed, her breasts tender and sensitive. But she experienced no shame beneath his possessive stare.
“I wish I could tell you what you do to me.”
“Show me,” she whispered, holding up her arms for him.
He knelt, sliding off the sandals she wore and kicking off his own shoes. He drew his shirt over his head. Placing his hands on her knees, he parted her thighs and sank down next to the bed between her legs.
• • •
She was like a dream, lying there with her long, dark hair spread around her head, her dress opened to reveal her breasts and the smooth, erotic span of her belly. That was where he kissed her first, pressing his face to her softness. She whimpered. He felt her hand at the back of his head, holding him to her as his lips skimmed across her fragrant skin. He nuzzled the area just above her panties, that stretch of exquisitely soft skin. He inhaled her scent: flowers and honey and the sweetness of her arousal. That fullness inside him, the one he’d wanted to describe to her but couldn’t put into words, swelled high.
He lowered her panties down to her ankles, sliding them off her feet. She shifted restlessly on the mattress beneath his stare. He glanced up at her face, his hands bracketing her hips. He recognized what glistened in her eyes and leaned down to kiss her mons.
“Such a gift,” he told her gruffly, before he dipped his tongue into the distilled essence of Laila.
• • •
He’d said it like she was presenting him with a gift, but as pleasure flooded her in a wave, Laila knew it was the reverse. Surely it was his mouth that was the gift, his focused desire.
Oh God. It felt like heaven on earth when he touched me with his hand, but this . . . this is almost unbearable, it’s so sweet.
Her entire body tensed tight at the sensation of his tongue moving in her most intimate flesh. He was firm but tender; hungry but somehow worshipful, as well. One of her hands gripped the bedspread, the other at his head, her fingers delving into his thick hair. She made a wild, helpless sound in her throat.
He lifted his head and pressed his warm, damp lips to her thigh. She felt the deprivation of his mouth like a pinching pain. “Okay?” he asked her hoarsely.
“Yes. God, yes. Please . . .”
But his mouth was already back on her, the tip of his tongue finding her clitoris, rubbing and agitating her until her eyes rolled back in her head. He sealed his lips to her flesh, providing a slight suction, while his tongue dipped and pressed and circled. She moaned his name, her hips twisting against the sharp pleasure.
He firmed his hold on her hips and lifted his head.
“Does it feel good?”
“Yes . . . I never knew it could feel like this,” she managed to say, biting her lip to silence an anguished cry. She shook slightly from the absence of his touch.
“I never knew anyone could taste so good. Hold still. I want more. So much more.”
He groaned, and the pleasure was stealing her breath again.
He was hungrier now, but so was she. Her entire world swirled in a cyclone of sensation. She called his name as she rose to the pinnacle, and she thought maybe she sounded a little afraid . . .