He released her dress, keeping his hands beneath the fabric. He gripped the sides of her thong panties and dragged them down, kneeling before her on the floor as he removed them. She lifted one foot to step out of her underwear and wobbled slightly, but he steadied her by holding tightly to her hips.
He leaned in, his breath hot against the silk fabric as his mouth hovered over her slightly rounded stomach. “So beautiful.” He laid his palm flat against her belly, the expression on his face so reverent, so awed, that it made her throat tighten with emotion. He leaned in and kissed her there, and she felt as if her knees would have buckled if she hadn’t been held firmly in his strong grip.
Standing again he kissed her lips, her neck, her collarbone. She wasn’t even aware that they’d been moving until the back of her knees came into contact with the edge of the bed. He lowered her slowly to the soft surface, his hard length brushing her hip as he joined her on the mattress.
“You’re so beautiful,” he said, reaching around and untying the flimsy knot that held the halter top of her dress in place. He pushed the fabric aside and revealed her breasts.
He’d seen her before, out at the pool, and already knowing that he liked the way she looked bolstered her confidence. He cupped her breasts, teased the aroused tips. She tilted her head back onto the pillow and just enjoyed his touch, relished the knot of arousal that was tightening in her pelvis. She could just stay like this forever, with him caressing her, lavishing attention on her body.
She let out a moan of disappointment when he abandoned her breasts, his hands skimming over her curves, still clothed in the thin silk of the dress. He pushed the fabric up again and exposed her naked body to his gaze. She hadn’t been embarrassed for him to see her breasts, but having him so close to a part of her only her doctor had ever seen had her blushing hotly.
“Max.” She was about to ask him to turn the bedroom light off, but the warm press of his lips on her thigh stalled the words. And when he parted her legs and ran his tongue along her inner thigh she lost her command of the English language entirely.
She fought to regain some control, some kind of command over her senses. Impossible when she felt as if all of the feeling inside her were too big to be contained by her skin, when she was certain she might shatter into a million pieces. A needy moan escaped her lips and her body trembled as he moved closer to the place where she was wet and aching for him. She didn’t have control anymore; she felt as if she might fall from the earth and float away, as if there was nothing holding her to the bed.
She gripped the sheets, tried to focus, tried to find some shred of sanity, because this, what he was doing to her, making her feel, was terrifying. She couldn’t temper it, couldn’t lead it, or plan it. But she felt her hold slipping, felt herself ready to plunge over the edge, and if that happened she was afraid she would go on falling forever.
“Let go, Alison,” he growled, pressing a hot kiss just above her feminine mound. “I want to make you lose control.”
She shook her head, even though she knew he couldn’t see. “No.”
“Yes. I want you to stop thinking. I want you to feel.” He ran his tongue over her flesh, flicked it over the sensitive bundle of nerves and continued down, dipping inside of her. Her hips came off the bed and he gripped them tight, holding her to him, not letting her escape. “I want you to come for me.”
He continued his intimate assault, pleasuring her with his lips, his tongue, as he whispered exciting, erotic words. He pushed one finger into her tight passage and moved it in rhythm with his tongue.
A moan rose in her throat and she couldn’t do anything to stop the needy sound from escaping.
“That’s right, Alison,” he whispered. “Let go. You can let go. I’ve got you.”
Her mind blanked, all thoughts of control, all of her worries, falling away. And she really could only feel. She felt as if she was reaching for something, something beautiful that shimmered before her, just out of reach. She moved against him, edging toward the nameless need that had taken over her whole being. And finally she touched it.
Her mouth opened on a soundless cry and she arched up as her orgasm washed over her. Her internal muscles pulsed around his finger in waves of endless pleasure that seemed to go on and on.
When it was over she was self-conscious again, where before she’d been so lost in her pleasure that she hadn’t really stopped to realize that she should be embarrassed about what he was doing to her.
“Don’t,” he said, deftly undoing the buttons on his shirt.
“Don’t?”
“Don’t be embarrassed.” He shrugged the shirt off then removed his pants and underwear in one fluid movement.
She could only stare, openmouthed at the vision of masculine perfection he’d unveiled. That muscular chest was bare for her again and she ached to touch him, to taste him. And then her gaze dropped to his erection, thick and fully aroused, and she forgot her embarrassment. How could she be embarrassed when she could see for herself how much he’d enjoyed doing that for her? When she could see how much he wanted her still? Men couldn’t fake a reaction like that, and she couldn’t help but feel an immense amount of feminine pride over his obvious desire for her.
He stood up from the bed and moved over to the dresser where there were several pillar candles set out. She took the opportunity to admire his tight male butt, her arousal almost unbearable despite the orgasm she’d just had. He grabbed a lighter from the top drawer and picked up one of the candles.
“What are you doing?” she asked, craving his skin against hers, craving his touch, his kiss.
“Setting the mood,” he said, the corner of his mouth lifting into a smile.
“There’s no time for that,” she said, shimmying out of her dress. “I need you. Now.”
A feral growl rose up in his throat and he crossed to the bed in three quick strides. Then he was covering her, gently pressing her legs apart with his hair-roughened thigh. She kissed him, moved against him, rubbed her breasts against his chest. She loved being naked with him, skin to skin, their bodies twined together. It was the most amazing feeling in the world. She was completely out of control, and yet she was safe. With him she was safe. No matter what. She knew it instinctively, even if she didn’t know why.
He rubbed his shaft against her slick opening. She was so wet, so ready for him after her first mind-numbing orgasm that she didn’t feel any pain when he started to ease into her. She opened her eyes and looked at him. His face was tense, the tendons in his neck strained with the concentration it took for him to go slow.
She looped her calf over his and urged him on. In one quick motion he thrust inside of her to the hilt. She felt too full, the stretching sensation uncomfortable, but not painful. She shifted, trying to ease some of the pressure.
He pulled away and then pushed into her again and she felt her body adjusting, felt her muscles expanding to accommodate him. And when he thrust into her for a third time all of the discomfort was gone. She moaned with pleasure, the sweet feeling of impending orgasm beginning to coil in her pelvis again.
“Oh, Max,” she breathed, arching against him, meeting each of his thrusts.
He buried his face in her neck, his movements wild, hard. Wonderful. Neither of them were quiet, both of them whispering words of encouragement, letting the other one know how good everything was. And when she felt ready to go over the edge again she jumped willingly.
If her first orgasm was a release, this one was an explosion of feeling. She couldn’t stop the hoarse cry that escaped her lips as she lost herself in her own pleasure wholly and completely. He thrust hard into her one last time and pressed a hot kiss to her lips as he came.