She obeyed with maddening slowness, fingers working the buttons of her blouse one by one while holding his gaze.Tease. She knew exactly what she was doing to him. Each button revealed another inch of pale skin, the shadow between her breasts, the black lace of herbra.
“Faster,” he growled.
Her lips curved into a smile—slow, knowing, devastating. “Make me.”
Challenge accepted. He closed the distance between them in two strides, hands covering hers, and together they made quick work of the remaining buttons. When the silk finally slid from her shoulders, revealing pale skin and black lace that barely contained her breasts, his breath caught.
“Christ,” he muttered, unable to look away. The swell of her breasts rising and falling with each rapid breath, the delicate lace doing nothing to hide her tightened nipples. His hands itched to touch, to claim. “You’re perfect.”
Color bloomed in her cheeks at the compliment, but she didn’t look away. Instead, she stood and reached for the zipper at her hip, lowering it slowly while he watched like a man hypnotized.
The skirt slithered down her legs in a whisper of fabric, and then she was standing before him in nothing but black lace and heels. His gaze traveled the length of her—long legs, the curve of her hips, the shadowbetween her thighs visible through sheer fabric, up the plane of her stomach to her breasts.
“Beautiful,” he murmured, drinking in the sight of her. The swell of her breasts, the dip of her waist, the flare of her hips. He cataloged every curve, every plane, committing it all to memory. His analytical mind wanted to map every inch, but the man in him just wanted to devour.
He reached out, fingers hooking in the front clasp of her bra. “This comes off now.”
She nodded, breathless, and he flicked the clasp open. The lace fell away, baring her completely to his gaze, and his mouth went dry. Her breasts were perfect—full and soft, nipples dusky pink and tight. He cupped them reverently, thumbs circling the peaks, watching her eyelids flutter.
“Alaric,” she breathed, swaying towardhim.
“Not yet.” He dropped to his knees before her, hands settling on her hips. Looking up at her from this angle—flushed and trembling, lips parted, eyes dark with need—did something to him. Made him simultaneously powerful and utterly undone.
He pressed a kiss to her stomach, just above her navel, and her muscles jumped. Then lower, to the edge of blacklace. His fingers traced the waistband, teasing, before he slowly—torturously slowly—began to peel the fabricdown.
“Step out,” he ordered when the lace pooled at herfeet.
She obeyed, and then she was completely naked before him except for those heels. He wanted her in the heels. Wanted them digging into his shoulders when he buried his face between her thighs.
But first, he needed to touch. His palms smoothed up the outside of her thighs, over the curve of her hips, the indentation of her waist. Her skin was impossibly soft, warm, and when he leaned in to press his mouth to her inner thigh, she gasped.
“Say my name again,” he commanded, rising to take her nipple between his lips. He sucked gently at first, then harder when her fingers threaded through his hair and held him there. Her taste flooded his senses—clean skin, arousal, everything he’d been denying himself.
“Alaric,” she moaned, and the sound went straight to hiscock.
He switched to her other breast, lavishing it with the same attention while his hand slid down her stomach to the apex of her thighs. He could feel her heat, howready she was. He stroked her, slow and intentionally, watching her face transform with pleasure.
“You’re so wet already,” he observed, voice thick. “Did you think about this while we were working? About me stripping you down and making you come?”
“Yes,” she admitted, shameless. Her hips rolled against his hand, seeking more pressure. “Every time you leaned close, every time you touched my hand—God, yes, Ithought about it.”
The confession shredded what remained of his restraint. She was exquisite—flushed and trembling, slick with arousal, looking at him like he held every answer she’d ever needed.
“On the bed,” he said, voice dark with need. “I want you spread out for me.”
She obeyed, and the sight of her—thighs parted, core glistening—nearly brought him to his knees. He shed the rest of his clothes and climbed over her, settling between her legs. His cock pressed against her thigh, hard and aching, and when she wrapped her hand around him, stroking slowly, he groaned.
“Sera,” he warned. “If you keep that up, this will be over before it starts.”
She smiled, wicked and knowing. “Then maybe you should dosomething about it.”
He captured her wrists, pinning them above her head with one hand. The position arched her beautifully, thrust her breasts up toward him. With his free hand, he traced a path down her body—throat, sternum, ribs, belly—until he reached the soft curls at the apex of her thighs.
“Eyes on me,” he ordered.
She locked her gaze with his as he slid two fingers through her slick heat, finding her entrance and pressing inside. She was tight, so fucking tight, and when he curled his fingers to stroke that perfect spot inside her, she criedout.
“There,” she gasped. “Right there, don’t stop—”
