“Let’s wait. We’ll make it special.”
“It is special.You’respecial. I don’t want to wait anymore. Make love to me.”
Her words seemed to change something in him because his inhale was sharp, almost shocked, and a shiver ran through him like a current.
He kissed her, leaning over from where he was standing, and he pulled his shirt and shoes off before he lay beside her on the wide bed.
She ran her palms over his chest. His silky hair below his collarbones felt like satin, and it tapered to a fine trail between his abs and downward.
His gray eyes were already unfocused from passion. “Flicka—”
She kissed him, hard, wrapping her arms around his neck and fitting her body against his.
The fuzzy lust left his gray eyes, and his gaze sharpened until he was a laser focused on her.
Dieter slipped his arms around her, holding her. He kissed her more deeply, his tongue stroking hers between their lips, and rolled her over on her back. He tented his arms around her head and kissed her so hard that her heart thumped in her chest.
She pushed her hips up, seeking more of his skin.
But he didn’t let her. He held her down and kissed her until she was thrashing on the bed, trying to get her dress and his pants off. His hands were everywhere, stroking and gripping her breasts and hips and the round swells of her ass.
Her head spun with his touch and the faint, masculine musk of his body, and she felt drunk as hell even though she hadn’t had a sip that whole day.
When he let her sit up, he stripped her dress off and pushed his pants away, and they were skin to skin. She wrapped her leg around his sinewy thigh, desperate to touch him.
His breath was ragged, too, but his gray eyes watched her like a hawk watches prey.
He grabbed her hair and dragged her head back to press his mouth to her throat. The warmth of his breath on her skin stunned her.
A sound escaped her throat.
Dieter shook in her arms, and his back rose up as he crushed her against his warm skin.
Her whole body craved him like she’d been missing sunshine her whole life. Every place he stroked—her shoulders, her breasts, her stomach—made her more desperate for his warmth.
Her moan changed to a gasp as she ground her hips against his.
Dieter shoved her over onto her back and mouthed down her belly.
“No,”she whimpered. “Not that. I wantyou.”
As she protested, her hips curled up to meet his tongue.
“This,” Dieter said. “This first.”
He folded her knees to her chest and sucked and massaged her with his warm, wet tongue on her clit and his fingers inside her until her body twisted in an impossible tension and then flooded with waves that crested over the top of her head.
She grabbed the bedsheets in her fists and cried out for him to stop.
As he crawled up her body, his warm skin and heavy muscles covering her, her body felt like her soul had broken free and was floating near the ceiling.
He whispered in her ear, “You’re sure?”
“Yes,” she whispered back, still floating. “Make love to me.”
He slowly pushed inside her still spasming body, a fullness that opened her to him. Her lower back ached, but her channel pulsed against his hardness.That’swhat it wassupposedto feel like, not the superficial pangs of fingers slipping on skin.
He moved above her, a male made of hard muscle and strength, and she opened her softness to him.
