“I’ll stop and rest if I get tired,” he said. He leaned forward then and brushed his lips down her forehead, across the tip of her nose, and then lightly, so lightly against her perfect mouth. “So far I think I will manage.”
Her lips pursed together to stifle a giggle, but Ryker kept going. He found the pulse jumping at the base of her neck and kissed that too, reveling in the way it kicked up its pace, then traced a line of kisses down the collar of Francesca’s delicate tank top. She was right, their clothing was too finely-made for the likes of two shiftless twenty-somethings out for a day in the capital city, but no one had looked twice at them. Everyone had seen what they’d expected to see.
Now, Ryker wanted to see more.
Francesca’s tank was the type that buttoned down the front. Moving himself over to one side, Ryker reached for it, batting away her hands when she realized what he wanted.
“It’s been a long time since I’ve had the pleasure of undressing a woman,” he said roughly, and Francesca’s hands stilled, her large eyes fixed on him as he worked the long line of pearlized buttons free. He spread the fabric wide and took in her smooth skin beneath. Her breasts, snugly wrapped in a bra the same color as the shirt, rose and fell beneath his gaze, and her stomach trembled when he drifted his hand across it. He traced his fingers up to the front clasp of her bra, and smiled wryly at her.
“This is almost too easy.”
“I didn’t want to overtax you,” she said, and he laughed again, amazed at the unfettered joy that being with her brought him. Then he sprang the clasp on her bra and smoothed that material away as well, the need in him spiking high at the sight of her full, stiff-peaked breasts. But slowly, so slowly that it was almost a torture to him, he drew his fingers up and over the swell of one of those breasts, zeroing in on the tip as it pebbled beneath his fingers. Francesca’s breath caught as he grazed the tight nipple once, then twice.
“You must tell me what you like,” he murmured as he leaned into her again, his mouth following where his fingers led. He tasted the soft heat of her skin while her heart clamored beneath his lips, his own mouth going dry as he kissed her right breast, his hand closing of its own volition around her left.
“That,” she managed in a strangled cry as his lips closed around her nipple. “That,” as he suckled harder, her back arching off the bed. The intensity of her reaction galvanized him, and he slid his hand down her belly, his fingers catching on the waistband of her pants. He slipped the button easily as she hissed a soft breath between her teeth, and then he felt the slide of the silk beneath his fingers, and it was all he could do not to rip the clothes from her body.
“R-Ryker,” Francesca managed, and the soft desire in her voice wound him up further. He leaned back so he could see more of her. Her gaze remained fixed on his face as he smoothed his hand over her belly, edging his fingers down again, unable to stay away from the way her body flowed in such smooth and perfect curves.
“I want to see all of you,” he murmured, and she when she didn’t say no, he glanced up to meet her eyes.
It was there again—the caution, lurking below the need he could see reflected back at him, a need surely as strong as his own. “All of you,” he repeated, like a mantra, and she nodded once, then a second time, her lips creasing into a nervous smile.
She didn’t need to tell him again. Ryker hooked his thumbs into either side of her pants, slicking them over her hips and all the way down, not trusting himself to focus on anything except removing her clothes until the very last moment. As he pulled the clothes free of her feet she slid back on the bed, toward the headboard, working off her bra and tank and throwing them aside. Then, suddenly, she was adorned by nothing but her long dark hair, spilling over her shoulders, half covering her breasts. She wasn’t self-conscious, he realized. Not about her body—nor should she be. She was perfectly formed, broad shoulders, a gently curving hourglass torso, rounded hips and long legs that even now bent as she sat higher on the bed.
The next words out of her mouth, though, had him blinking in confusion. “I don’t think I like the way you do things in Garronia.”
“What?” He tore his gaze away from her body, and she gestured to him.
“You’ve spent your time taking my clothes off, but what about giving me something to look at?”
The color was higher in her cheeks, so she wasn’t as brazen as her words made her out to be, but Ryker laughed. “I can see how that isn’t very fair,” he rumbled, “but I would ask for a special dispensation to kiss you first.”
Her smile was sweet, but a little confused. “You haven’t done that already?” she teased.
“Not like this.”
Francesca breathed out a hum of surprise as he crawled back on the bed, one hand sliding up her ankle to hold her in place when she would have brought her legs together. He angled between her legs, and kissed the inside of her calf. Her entire leg jumped with the touch, and he chuckled, her nervousness adding to the intense pleasure at exploring her in such a new and unfamiliar way.
“You are so beautiful,” he murmured, moving up her leg to the inside of her knee, stretching her wider as he noted her fists knotting up the sheets. She was affected as much as he was, he realized, though there was no way a body this exquisite could have been denied the touch of a man as long as he’d been barred from touching a woman. Still, when he reached her thigh it quivered, and Francesca’s laugh was shaky as his mouth edged yet higher, his breath warming her skin a moment before he replaced its touch with his lips.
“Ryker,” she managed, but her voice caught as he reached his destination, and he leaned the final inch, drawing his tongue along the most intimate part of her. Whatever she said next was lost in a sigh as her body seemed to become boneless beneath his touch, and he reached up until his fingers connected with hers.
Instead of knotting the sheets any longer, she gripped his hand, and that encouragement was all he needed. He drew his mouth along her quivering sex and explored each fold and peak, mapping the intimate territory so that he might return again and again.
Which he fully planned to.
When his tongue brushed over the most sensitive nub Francesca drew in a sharp breath, going rigid beneath him. “Okay, my turn,” she pleaded, her free hand coming up to brace itself against his shoulder. “I’m pretty sure you’re breaking some sort of international treaty here and I demand equal time.”
“You’ll get it,” he said, but he didn’t shift position, and as he spoke her body arched beneath him again, his words a rumble against her as she quivered. “But not before I do—this.”
9
Fran couldn’t quell the roar of need from thundering through her body, a train that had no intention of stopping. The touch of Ari’s mouth drove her impossibly close to climax—only then he’d shift again, moving ever so slightly off the most sensitive bundle of nerves, so that she was let hanging on a cliff by her fingernails, not quite able to let go.
Worse, she was pretty sure he was doing it on purpose, winding her up so tight just to let her unravel again, stretching out her release.
“You’re killing me,” she moaned. Without consciously realizing she was doing it, she drew her hands together and buried them in his thick hair, tightening her hold enough to resist when he shifted off a third time. His laughter reverberated against her and she quivered, a sensual tuning fork struck exactly the right way, but he didn’t say anything—he didn’t need to say anything. With a sigh she felt all the way to her toes he tilted forward a final time and slid his tongue in exactly—the right—way—
