He touched every body part he praised, either a gentle brush of his fingertips or a firm grip that told her how hungry she made him. He rubbed his goatee over every part of her too, because she seemed to like that, like the rasp of his whiskers across her sensitive skin. And you can be certain hekissedevery part. Laved it with his tongue. Sucked it between his lips. Nipped it with his teeth.
By the time he was left with the part of her he’d been longing to taste since the first time he saw her sitting primly on her little daybed on the screened porch back on Wayfarer, he was so gluttonous for her, he barely refrained from tossing her onto the sand and burying his head between her thighs.
No finesse.
No subtlety.
Just a raw, ravenousfeastingon her most intimate flesh.
Instead, he knelt in front of her and whispered, “And this part of you?” He softly rubbed his thumb through the tiny triangle of auburn hair at the top of her plump sex. “It’s so perfect. Swollen and wet and everything a man dreams of when he dreams of a woman who wants him.”
Pressing his thumb against the throbbing nub, he looked up into her golden eyes, expecting to see the pleasure he gave her. But what he saw reflected there was himself.
Himself the wayshesaw him.
Someone strong and capable and worthy. Someone she wanted. Someone she...trusted.
And that was the sexiest thing of all.
“Please keep touching me,” she begged, her legs quivering as he used his thumb to rub slow circles against the bundle of nerves made solely for a woman’s bliss. “Put your fingers inside me. I ache so much.”
“Mmm.” He hooked a hand behind her knee so he could drape one smooth, lovely leg over his shoulder. “That would be my pleasure.”
He was glad he was still looking up at her face, because he saw her catch her bottom lip between her teeth and give him a sexy little smile. “No. I’m hoping it’ll bemypleasure.”
“Cheeky minx,” he said in English. He followed that up with something far more salacious in Spanish.
When he gently probed her opening, he found the slick heat of her. And for the first time all night, he didn’t go slow. He didn’t need to.
He’d already tormented and teased her into readiness. Now, what she needed was release. A quick, hard orgasm to take the edge off and allow her to luxuriate in all that was still to come.
Sliding one finger inside her, he wasn’t surprised to find her tight. To feel her muscles clamp down against his intrusion. But when she hissed, “God, yes,” and let her head fall back, he knew he’d made the correct choice in getting right to it.
And speaking of getting right to it.
He pushed a second finger beside the first. It wasn’t easy. She was a small woman and he had big hands. But once both fingers were inside her, he leaned forward to press his mouth over her sex.
The taste of her was salty and sweet. The smell of her was willing, wanton woman. Setting up a rhythm with his fingers that he reproduced with the flick of his tongue, he cataloged her every response. Each thrust of her hips was clue. Each catch of her breath was lesson. And very soon he learned what she liked. What would send her over the edge.
“God, yes.” Her fingers gripped his hair so tight she made the strands pinch. But the pain was even more of an inducement. It told him she was no longer in her head. She was completely inside her body, and all she was doing was feeling.
Feeling his fingers stroking into her hot, wet sheathe. Feeling his tongue swirling and rubbing and stabbing at her sex until she was riding his face.
With his free hand, he stroked himself. He couldn’t help it. He had to lessen a little of his own ache even as he worked to build the ache inside her.
When he felt her inner muscles quiver, he changed the motion of his fingers. Instead of a steady stroke, he wiggled them forward, finding the rough patch of flesh behind her pubic bone that was sure to send her careening over the edge.
“I need you to—” The words caught in her throat when he softly bit the inside of her thigh.
His words were muffled against her skin, when he told her, “I know exactly what you need.”
Then he gave it to her by clamping his mouth over her clit and flicking hard and fast with his tongue until she caught her breath at the same time her body caught his fingers, clamping down so hard that his knuckles rubbed together.
“Spiro!” She screamed his name as her womanhood pulsed.
He let go of his raging dick then. He had to. With his name ringing in his ears, with the feel of her body shuddering around his fingers, with the taste of her orgasm bathing his tongue and filling his nose with the scent of spent woman, he was seconds away from shooting all over the sand.
Instead, he used his free hand to grip her hip, to hold her steady as her release rippled through her in ever shrinking circles until, finally, she gave one final shudder and...
