Master of Passion - Page 22

'If this is a dream I never want to wake up,' Parisa whispered, sliding her small hand underneath the open front of his shirt. She felt him shudder, and then his mouth found hers. His lips, warm and mobile, surprisingly tender, played softly against her mouth, his tongue teasing and then plunging between her parted lips.

Excitement surged through her, making her move against him with a soft murmur of want, her fingers tangling in the curling body hair around a hard male nipple, so that in response his kiss became more demanding, his tongue plunging the darkest recesses of her mouth with insistent increasing passion.

His passion fuelled hers. God; how she wanted him! She reeled with the speed of it all. She was defenceless. His taste was on her lips; he was muscle, heat and urgent need. She strained against him, her free hand curling around the nape of his neck, holding him to her. He growled a low, throaty sound as he pulled his mouth from hers, his lips trailing a line of kisses down her throat and chest.

His fingers found the side zip of her dress, and tugged it down, his mouth hot on her soft flesh. He rasped, 'I have ached to do that all night.' Leaning up, he gently pulled the bodice of her dress down, exposing her naked breast to his view. He stared down at her, and for a second Parisa wanted to cover herself, but then he laid his hands on her swelling breasts and gently squeezed the soft flesh.

Her back arched in involuntary response, and the exquisite sensation made her blood flow heavily through her veins.

'You are perfect,' Luc rasped. 'Firm and slender, but surprisingly voluptuous.' He slid his hands around the soft curves, his thumbs raking across the deep-rose tips, again and again, bringing them to hard, taut peaks of longing.

'Luc,' she breathed, reaching for him, and he lowered his head, his mouth closing over one hard tip, suckling and tasting, until she cried out with the pleasure he aroused.

'I want you, Parisa, I want you...' he grated, his mouth once more finding hers. She trembled, shaking beneath the force of his kiss. He was no longer tender, but urgent with passion. With one hand he swept the dress from her body, his fingers lingering on her naked thigh, and all the time his mouth caused havoc, sweeping from her lips to her breast, nibbling her slender throat. He dragged her hard beneath him, and the force of his arousal shocked her; the rigid heat of it burnt into her belly.

Parisa had never known such emotion. Her body, with a wantonness she had never thought herself capable of, reacted to his every touch. The enticing male scent of him teased and tempted her, and her hands quickly unfastened the remaining buttons of his shirt. She curved her arms around his broad back. Rejoicing in the satin- smooth feel of his hard flesh, with eager fingers she traced the muscle and sinew. He was so male, so much a man, and she ached for him to possess her completely.

'Parisa, Parisa.' He mouthed her name against her throat, and, forcing his head back, he stared down into her passion-hazed eyes.

'If you want to stop, it will have to be, he groaned

as she moved her shapely legs against him '—now.'

She looked into his dark face: the black eyes, their pupils dilated, the sensuous mouth, lips parted, only inches from her own. 'No,' she breathed and, lifting her head, she licked the strong column of his throat.

She felt his muscles lock with tension, then in a moment he had left her. She reached a hand up to him. Surely he could not stop? But as she watched he shrugged off his clothes. She gasped as he stood completely naked, the moonlight bathing his magnificent body in a silver glow. She had never seen a completely naked aroused man in her life, and just for a second she felt a flash of virginal fear, but it vanished, as her fascinated gaze drank in the sight of him. His massive chest rose and fell unevenly, the curling black mat of hair arrowing down over his belly then bushing out between his thighs. She closed her eyes for an instant. He was such a big man towering over her.

But Luc was doing his own survey. 'Parisa, what are you trying to do to me?' he growled. 'Red panties and a garter belt. Are you determined to drive me mad?' Luc slipped his hands in the top of her panties, and slowly removed them, along with the belt and stockings. He tossed them to one side, and slowly stroked his hands back up her legs, her hips, following the indentation of her waist, and once more over her proudly jutting breasts, before he lowered himself over her.

His dark eyes burned down into hers. The touch of his naked body from toe to shoulder was like being struck by lightning: hot, hard, and sizzling. With a little cry she flung her arms around his neck, clinging to him, as he kissed and caressed her smooth flesh in a frenzy of passion. She gasped as his long fingers delved between her thighs, but her legs parted, welcoming his touch at the most sensitive hot, damp core of her.

Her finger-nails dug into his broad shoulders, but she responded helplessly to his groaned demand. 'Touch me, Parisa. I need to know you want me.'

She traced the length of him, her small hand stroking across his thigh, his hard, flat stomach, to the root of his manhood, while all the time the tension built in her loins at his intimate, probing caress.

'Basta.' His hand pulled hers away from him, and, sliding between her open thighs, he paused for a moment, supporting himself on his elbows, one either side of her, as her body shook in a paroxysm of pleasure.

'I don't want to hurt you, Parisa, but I might a little.' The skin was pulled taut across his high cheekbones, his lips tight in an effort to retain control. 'I don't think I could bear not to have you now. I have wanted you from the minute I saw you dressed as my own cat burglar.

Beautiful, passionate, strong. God, Parisa!' he groaned. 'What you do to me.' He fumbled with a small packet, but Parisa barely noticed, her eyes fixed on his sensuous mouth.

She was beyond reason; all she knew was that she had to have this man.

'Please, oh please.' Her legs parted wider, trembling, and, as if her plea was the breaking point, Luc slid his hands beneath her buttocks and lifted her up to him.

She cried out as with one swift thrust he broke through the veil of innocence, sheathing himself inside her. She felt an instant of pain as her body stretched to accommodate him. But before she could register the pain Luc was moving again. Slow and deep, he moved against her. She wrapped her legs around him. Her body arched off the couch, her hands clinging to his wide shoulders.

'Dio, I can't,' he cried.

She felt him in every fibre of her being as he plunged deeper, hard and fast, surging out of control, and her body instinctively matched his pounding rhythm.

The world tipped on its axis. Parisa's eyes flew open, the night sky a whirling, spinning kaleidoscope of stars- real or imagined, she could not know—as she trembled, her slender body convulsing in mind-shattering turmoil. Luc cried a harsh, deep sound as his huge body was racked with a ferocious response, and, collapsing down on her, he lay, his head resting on her shoulder, the only sound the deep, rasping sound of their breathing.

Their bodies' sweat slick clung together like two halves of a whole. Parisa had never imagined anything could be so perfect, but, being inexperienced, she was not so sure how Luc felt.

'I'm sorry, Parisa. I lost it. Are you OK?' His rasping voice sounded in her ear. 'I never meant to hurt you.'

'Perfect,' sh

Tags: Jacqueline Baird Billionaire Romance
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