He didn’t make a move. Abby, mesmerized by her outrageous desires, slid her wrist into that sandpaper hand.
It took him a while to grasp her. Long, slow seconds, thicker than heartbeats. One…two… With a twitch, his hand tightened.
He’ll do it now.The thought came out of nowhere.He’ll put it in me. All business, like Hamish.
But no—with Hamish there’d been no zinging and need and emptiness. There hadn’t even been a discussion when he’d done it.
This time, she wanted it. This time, it was her doing it. The two of them.
She let him coax her up and over his reclining body, too far, until that wet place hovered directly over his face. He eyed her hungrily before grasping her bottom and urging her back down, right onto his face.
She screamed when his mouth hit her there. Not a breathy sound, like the others, but a tormentedahthat had Le Dog lifting his head by the fire.
He pulled back. “You want me to stop?”
“Stop?” she gasped. “No! Goodness no! Show me what’s next.”
Like a starving man, he dove back into her body. If she’d thought the sensations were too much before, now they were… Oh Lord, it was sheer decadence, what he did, his face in her…in her… Oh, goodness, what was it called? It was too much, too much.
His tongue slid along her center, then up, up, so soft and—she let out another sound, this time darker, the sensation so sharp where he was that she knew she’d go there. To that place she’d been once or twice with her hand between her legs. This would be with Luc, though, humming into her flesh, consuming her in a way that was earthy and demanding and inexorable. She’d die, she knew, if he pushed her too far. So, hands scrabbling at his head, she yanked at his hair. “Stop, stop, no, stop,” she begged.
He pulled back with a groan and shifted her down a few inches, his face lost and hungry and shining with wetness. Her wetness, she knew, the thought as thrilling as it was mortifying. He let her wipe him off with a swipe of her hand, and then he trapped her hand and held it while he ran his tongue from her palm to fingertip.
He’s licking my juices.The realization hit her hard in the gut, and her womb clenched down.
“You ruin me, Abby.” The words sounded puzzled and a bit lost.
Abby opened her mouth to apologize and froze. She could never go back to the lies and denial—to that life she’d been bred to believe in.
Her answer, when it came, was from deep down inside—that bright, little heart of a sinner.
“What do we do next?”
* * *
This was Luc’s problem. This uncontrollable yearning to feel things—things he’d gotten away with avoiding these past couple of years. He didn’t just want to touch and feel this woman’s body—he wanted to throw her over his shoulder and ransack her. Not just experience her, but consume. He’d held on until tonight, but then he’d gotten his mouth on her, and he was gone.
There were women who wanted this sexual voraciousness, he knew, but not Abby. He would never do that to Abby. He’d rather shut himself down, tie himself up…disappear.
But then she sat back, eyes glittering, and asked for more.What do we do next?A siren’s song of pleasure.
“What do you want to do?” he asked. “What do you feel like?”
“How do I… I don’t know.”
He swallowed, taking her in where she sat astride him—those breasts that were soft and warm and heavy, her skin lighter than he’d imagined, her nipples sharpened by desire. Her smell was different from any other woman he’d been intimate with—pure in its humanity. She was sweet musk, unadorned—unadulterated by the chemical stink of perfume or fancy shampoo.
Face crinkling, she asked, “If we were normal—and I know we’re not,” she added with a smile, “what would you do?”
He half shrugged and swallowed. “I’d touch you, probably. Find out what you like.”
“Do that, then.”
“I like this.” He worked his hand out from under her and ran it over the underside of one breast. It was plump and pale and so soft. From there, he let his hand slide away and ran his knuckles down to the slight swell of her belly, around to one lush, freckled hip, and then did a slow, rasping drag up her arm, over her shoulder, to her neck.
Christ, this neck had haunted him—so slender and sweet, untouched by the sun. He shifted her down so their crotches lined up, with just the blanket separating them. From there, he sat up a bit, bringing their torsos close and letting him breathe her in.
The sounds that she made spoke of undeniable pleasure, arousal, and surprise. When he caught her eye, she shook her head and looked away.
