Elizabeth followed him obliviously with her hips, still unable to speak the words. And suddenly he was leaving her, and she cried out at the unanticipated separation. But he didn’t go far. He knelt above her, his smile knowing as his fingers caressed her once more, slipping seductively into the waist of her drawers.
“This?” he asked with a gleam in his eye.
With a slowness that made her breasts ache, and her eyes close with the spellbinding pleasure of it, he drew her drawers off. She nodded unconsciously as heat coiled through her, savoring every sensation as the soft, worn cotton slid down the length of her leg.
With a victorious growl, Cutter lifted her toe into his mouth, nipping it gently, pressing his thumb into her sole, before slipping her drawers off entirely. Discarding them, he bent to kiss her calves, her knees, her thighs, making his way slowly back upward. As she writhed helplessly with the incredible need he was rousing, Elizabeth’s nails raked the sheets, clutching at them for sanity.
And then suddenly he was at her breast, drawing her nipple firmly into his mouth, sucking it gently, as though it were his greatest joy, his most cherished treasure. To her surprise, waves of ecstasy burst through her, trysting and exploding somewhere deep within.
“Cutter,” she cried out. “Oh... Cutter—don’t stop—don’t stop—don’t ever stop!”
For answer, Cutter’s breath hissed across the wetness he’d lovingly painted upon her nipple, and then he moved to her other breast, lavishing it with just as much care as he’d given the first, leaving Elizabeth breathless with yearning. As Cutter feasted, her heart pounded, leaping with each stimulating suckle into her throat. Moaning with the ecstasy of it all, she curled her fingers through his hair, urging him closer without even realizing.
Vaguely she became aware that his hands were skipping so lightly over her skin, getting so close to that intimate place. Her breath caught and held over his scandalous stroking. Yet, of their own accord, her legs parted to give him better access, trusting him fully... wanting him to work his magic.
Magic.
There was no other way to describe what he was doing to her. Knowing exactly how to touch her to elicit pleasure, he cupped her, the full, firm pressure and heat of his palm an aphrodisiac in itself. And then his hand slid up, and ever so slowly he inserted the tip of one finger, making small swirling motions just within, with slow, mesmerizing dips, going deeper each time, as though he were stirring from her and tasting the sweetest nectar. The feeling was exquisite beyond words, and she couldn’t bear it.
“Elizabeth,” he murmured, barely able to restrain himself with the image of her heat flowing into his hand. “You feel so good...” The silky coarseness of his beard caressed her belly as he lowered his head, breathing in the scent of her. “I bet you taste even better.” He chuckled wickedly, and shuddered with anticipation, moving down to discover if it was so.
The top of his head receded, until…. “No!” she cried out, closing her legs before he could reach his intended goal. “I—I can’t... not... not yet.”
Yet?
Tilting his head to look up at her with those black eyes, he scrutinized her a moment, the hunger in his gaze almost volatile. Then, without warning, he moved up to lie beside her, catching her about the waist and lifting her effortlessly above him for the briefest second.
“Then ride me,” he hissed.
In spite of the fact that Elizabeth had no idea what he was asking of her, her heart leapt into her throat, her body thrilling to the demand. Instinctively, still not understanding fully, she parted her legs to sit astride him, and before she could find her tongue to ask, he was impaling her, the tip of him begging entrance.
She whimpered with longing at the feel of him entering so slowly, filling her so completely. Her body accommodated at once, gliding over him with little effort, drawing him into her own with such ease that it seemed they were made to be joined. In spite of her own trembling, she felt him pulse beneath her. Still she didn’t quite understand, but feeling the incredible urge to sheathe him fully, she did, tilting her hips instinctively. Again Cutter shuddered. But Elizabeth only sat, confounded as to what to do next. Her heart pounding, she drank in the intensity of his expression. His face was full of strain, his eyes closed, his jaw taut with restraint. The muscles in his arms tensed, and his fingers at her waist were actually... trembling?
He touched her more firmly, guided her up the length of him. “Ride me, Lizbeth,” he urged, a look of intense pleasure that warred with pain on his face. Again, he shuddered, leading her smoothly down over his erection. And then he opened his dark eyes, piercing her with the heat of his gaze. They were smoldering, slitting—coming as close to pleading as he was able. “Ride,” he whispered huskily, his neck arching, thrusting his head back into the bed.
Finally comprehending, Elizabeth nodded, rocking her hips, slowly. With her first stroke, Cutter bucked beneath her.
“Yes,” he hissed. “Christ, you feel good!” His jaw clenched.
Now it was Elizabeth’s turn to shudder, her eyes widening at the power she wielded over him. She needed no further prodding. With every stroke she made over him, she died a thousand deaths. It was the sweetest torture she had ever endured—ever!
Only, she was the one in control. She reveled in the power it gave her over his body—over her own. The look on his face alone was enough to send her spiraling over the edge—but she wasn’t ready to relinquish so soon. Couldn’t. It was too good. Too hot. Too... too... Dear God, it—it was too much!
Crying out at the exquisite feel of it, Elizabeth braced her hands upon his feverish chest. His skin was damp with sweat, the muscles in his neck and shoulders corded with the strain, but he allowed her to ride on at her own rhythm. Then suddenly a muffled cry forced its way through his clenched teeth and he stilled her hips, entrenching himself deeply, firmly, within her body.
Throwing her neck back, Elizabeth moaned with the incredible sensation of him pulsing within her. Her body strained to the feel of it, throbbing for its own release. But Cutter held her too firmly, grunting as though in pain when she moved at all, and so she was afraid to stir. But she couldn’t bear not to... and then, without warning, her body began to convulse around him. She whimpered, wanting so desperately to twist her hips and thrust herself into the incredible abyss of pleasure that beckoned just beyond her reach... so close—so close...
“Cutter!” she gasped.
Feeling her pulsate around him, he shifted abruptly atop her, never allowing a separation of their bodies, drawing on the last of his will in order to give her the pleasure he knew she sought. With a last groan, he drove himself into the depths of her, shuddering with the exquisite pain, spending the last of himself so deep within that he shuddered at the ferocity of the eruption.
Beneath him, Elizabeth cried out. And then she closed her eyes, surrendering with a shuddering breath, her release so consummate that it left her spent.
And still, Cutter moved within her, drawing every last murmur and sigh he could from her lips. He rocked her tenderly, his heart in every stroke, wanting her never to forget. He wanted to brand her, wanted her to cry out his name... and only his... the rest of her life.
Even when the violence of his release had ebbed at last, and Cutter’s tremors ceased, his emotions remained high. His arms enfolded her, not wanting to let go. He fought the urging of his aching body as his eyelids grew heavy, and caressed her hair away from her damp face as she wearily closed her eyes, not wanting to close his own for fear that he would find the sun rising on them when he opened them again. Morning would only bring them all that much closer to Sioux Falls.
And to the end of their charade.
