He bent his head and pressed his lips to the inside of her left thigh and sucked. Gently at first. Harder. Longer. Leaving his mark. She reacted the way she always had. A little moan. Moving her leg as if she might try to take herself away from him, but when he clamped down on her, she didn’t fight him. She pressed into him, sighing. Wanting him. Needing him the way he needed her. He moved his mouth up one-half of an inch. So close to that hot junction between her legs, the one crying out for him.
Right now, his cock felt like a monster, caged only by the cloth of his perfectly tailored suit. That suit wasn’t fitting so well, applying far too much pressure to his already aching shaft and balls. He tore his zipper down to give himself a little respite. The relief wasn’t nearly what he needed, but it was enough to allow him to hear past the roaring in his head.
She moaned softly as he spread little kisses up her thigh from her knee to her bare lips, first one side and then the other. He took his time. Making her wait. He blew gently. Steadily. Licked at the liquid heat and then suddenly sucked her clit. She nearly jumped out of the bed. A small cry broke from her. He stopped immediately.
“Babe. I’m just getting started. Didn’t I say I wanted to devour you? You can’t be trying to run away like that.”
“I can’t help it, Val. It feels so good. I haven’t …” She broke off. “You always make me feel things I’ve never felt.”
At least she gave him that. She might not have wanted to, but she’d always been starry-eyed and a little shocked as if every single time he’d fucked her, or made love to her, it was her first time and he was the most amazing, incredible lover ever.
He spread her thighs wider, placing her legs over his forearms, and then leaned down, one hand on her belly to hold her in place. He went back to those slow, delicious licks and flicks with his tongue. Teasing. Building the burn. Never quite giving her what she needed where she needed it. He used his free hand to brush her clit or circle it when his tongue wasn’t there. He curled his finger inside her, stroking that very sensitive spot that made her go a little wild. He pulled back and used his tongue like a weapon, plunging in and out and then withdrawing just as she was close.
He’d missed her taste. He’d missed her response. He’d missed every single thing about having his woman under him. The sight of her in such need. Her fragrance surrounding him. That soft skin and tight channel with scorching, silken walls waiting for his aching cock. He nuzzled her thighs, breathing her in, taking her deep into his lungs, keeping her there.
“Val! What are you doing?” she wailed. “I’m so close.”
“You need to come, baby?” He could feel her. Coiled so tight. Her body hot. Flames licked at both of them. Every nerve ending on fire. His. Hers. Nothing separated them.
“Yes. Hurry.”
“You need to know who makes you feel like this, Emmanuelle.” He put his mouth on her. Let his tongue work her hard. Bring her right there. He lifted his head. “Who would that be, Princess? Who gives this to you?”
“You are being a dick.” Her head popped up again and her blue eyes darkened as she glared at him with demand. With a threat. “Do you have even an inkling of an idea what I do for a living?”
He laughed. He had forgotten he could laugh. Only Emmanuelle made him laugh. He lived in fucking hell, and she brought the sun with her. She knew how to brighten his world.
He went back to work: Fingers. Mouth. Tongue. Teeth. Bringing her close. Losing himself in her taste. In her scent. The softness of her thighs. In the fact that he loved her. That he could feel that overwhelming emotion the way he did for her. That she was right there with him again. He had her back, and he would be damned if she slipped away again.
She was thrashing now, her body close. He felt the tightness in her belly, her thighs, the small silken muscles clamping down viciously on his fingers. He withdrew again, kissing her thighs, wiping his face on either side of those creamy legs while she wailed and threatened.
“Better talk to me, Princess. Say what I want to hear. Who gives you what you want? Because my woman is marrying me, not some fucking stranger in another country. No other man is ever going to make you come. Promise me, baby.”
Her head was up suddenly, her blue eyes looking straight into his eyes, and he knew he’d given her too much. Revealed how much it hurt. In his voice. Now it showed in his eyes. The knife she’d driven into him deep. Twisted. Kept twisting. She’d left him for two long years, believing he’d betrayed her, when all she’d had to do was listen to her own body, hear his voice, to know the truth.