Damn.
Her channel gripped him, and he was engulfed in tight heat. He moved his finger in and out of her in a slow, delicious rhythm, gratified when she moaned and clamped down on him, drawing him deeper. Her eyes were half closed, her breath coming in short pants.
Her mouth was red and swollen from his kisses, the tender skin around her lips pink from the stubble of the whiskers he had yet to shave. She had never been more beautiful than she was now, wearing his marks, lost in the pleasure he was giving her.
He added another finger and fucked her deeper, finding a place that made her jerk and cry. She was so wet now that the sounds of him sliding in and out of her echoed erotically through the salon. He grazed over her pearl with his thumb as he moved.
She bit her lip. Her fingers were in his hair now, clasping fistfuls, tugging on him. And she was riding him, her body undulating along with the rhythm he had begun. What he wanted more than anything in that moment was to sink home inside her with his cock. But it was too soon, and he knew it. He would settle for this, for her dew dripping down his fingers, for the tight clamp of her. For watching her take her pleasure. The desire rolling over her features.
She was getting closer now.
Her body was tensing and her movements were increasingly jerky. The desperate little sounds she made drove him to the brink, but it was worth it just to watch her spend. He was a man with a purpose. He would not stop until she came, until she reached her pinnacle and shattered into a thousand little shards in his arms.
“I want you to spend for me,” he told her, moving faster, curling his finger slightly to reach that magical place inside her once more. “I want to watch you when you come.”
He had never in his life uttered such wicked words to another woman before. They were torn from him now. Edged with desperation. With a desire so potent and frenzied, he could not control it or himself.
But the words did not shock her. Instead, they seemed to push her over the edge. Her back bowed and she clamped down on his fingers, shuddering around him as she threw back her head. A low, lusty moan escaped her. He stayed with her, thrusting in and out until the last spasm rippled through her.
He withdrew from her, his heart hammering in his chest, his cock so hard he swore he was going to explode if she so much as shifted on his lap. But as desire thundered through him, he knew he could not finish what they had begun.
Indeed, he had never intended for things between them to progress so far.
Reality seemed to intrude upon Johanna’s bliss as well. She released her hold on him and scrambled from his lap, clapping a hand over her mouth.
“Johanna,” he began, “I am sorry. I had no intention of—”
“Nor did I,” she interrupted, flushing from head to toe as she shook out her skirts.
It was the same gown she had worn yesterday evening, and after a night running through the rain and a fire-damaged townhome, it had already been worse for wear. Being crumpled in his lap had not helped matters.
He stood, a throbbing, unfulfilled ache in his groin he did his best to ignore. “Forgive me, Johanna. I only meant to offer you comfort, not ravish you.”
Her color deepened, her fingers twisting in her skirts. “The fault is mine, Felix. I thank you for your kind offer of protection and for extending me your hospitality, but I think it best if I return to my hotel.”
With a curtsy, she turned and fled the salon before he could stop her.
Still rocked by what had just happened, he watched her flee.
And then, he could resist temptation no more. He raised his fingers to his lips and tasted her at last.
He had his answer.
She wasn’t just as sweet. She was sweeter.
And he had not a chance of resisting her.
Johanna fled.
It was her first reaction. Her instinct.
Over the threshold of the salon, down the hall to the main entrance. Out the front door. It was not until she reached the bustling street that she realized she had left behind her gloves, hat, and coat. The air was chilled, and one glance down at her bedraggled state, and she knew she looked a fright. Her thoughts were a reckless, rushing jumble, every bit as disheveled as her outward appearance.
She had no notion of what time it was.
No way of getting back to her hotel.
She was likely missing her rehearsals for the second straight day.
