The funny thing was that after the last two kisses that had been incendiary, this one wasn’t. This one was a communion, a consecration. This one, his hand on the nape of her neck, her lips softer than morning, her scent of wildflowers and sunshine, shattered his heart and left it at her feet. He tilted his head to get a better purchase, nudged her lips open so that he might enter to lay claim to every secret depth, met her tongue with his to instruct her on the dance that would follow. He pulled her head back and rained kisses down on her eyelids, her forehead, her cheeks, her throat, dipping his tongue into that compelling little hollow at the base, that hollow that was so very close to her straining breasts.
She was on her toes, reaching up as far as she could. Beau had to admit he loved the feel of it, but he knew there were easier ways of going about this. Which was when he realized that he had surrendered before she had ever spoken.
Grabbing the cover in one hand, he lifted her into his arms and walked her over to the bed. He was about to lay her down, when she pulled herself to her feet right by the bed. Lifting up for one final kiss, she reached down for the buttons on is falls.
“No…” he protested, taking hold of her wrists.
Her grin was pure, eternal woman. “Yes,” she retorted, popping the first button free. And then the next and the next after that until she could reach in and take him in her hand and almost cause a reaction he hadn’t suffered since he was twelve. Suddenly, he was panting like a mountain climber.
“You are quite sure this fits?” she asked, stroking it, giggling when it leapt in her hand.
Quickly shucking his pants, he took her face in his hands and kissed her again. “I have it on the best of authority.”
And then, before she could get into any more mischief, he lifted her onto the bed and followed after. She looked so glorious, her bright yellow curls framing her face like sunshine, her lips plumped with his kisses, her breasts swollen and her body lifting to his.
“After this I’ll still be mad at you,” he warned, kissing his way back down her throat.
She ran her hands down his back, setting up a shower of chills straight to his poor, aching balls. “After this,” she murmured, the smile in her voice, “I won’t care.”
Finally, finally, he could bend his head and take one of those tempting nipples into his mouth and suck. And delight in her body as it bowed right up off the bed, and she mewled in the back of her throat and clung to his arms as if afraid of falling. He caressed one breast and then the other, unable to get enough of the taste of her, the texture of her. He feasted on her scent and traced the sweep of her hips right down to that beckoning triangle of hair.
“Open your legs for me,” he begged, reaching underneath to the slick center of her sex where he could torment that swollen nub into madness.
“Can I touch you?” she panted, trying to reach down.
He avoided her questing hand. “Next time.”
“Oh, good.” Her voice was breathless, sensual as sin.
“Oh, good what?”
She grinned and kissed his nose. “There will be a next time.”
He scowled and went back to stroking the slick lips of her sex. “Why don’t we concentrate on this time first. Do you like this?”
She was writhing now, her head thrown back, her hands scrabbling at him, her voice almost a growl. He quickened his strokes, dipped his finger into her, returned to the feast of her breasts and sipped. He was ready to burst, his body thrumming with need. But he held back until he readied her for him, until he could feel her seize around his fingers. He slid his cock up and down her thigh, tormenting himself, tormenting her, urging her on.
“Come, Pip, you can do it….let go….I’ll catch you…”
And with a startled cry, she did, bowed back, whimpering, desperately seeking purchase, her body rewarding them both. And as she climaxed, Beau gently pushed her thighs a little wider and moved over her.
She was gasping and frantic. “Now?”
He smiled and slid into her. “Now.”
Of course, it wasn’t as easy as he’d hoped with Pip. Her body resisted as he pushed bit by bit, trying so hard not to hurt her, knowing it was inevitable. He returned his finger to that nub and stroked, pushed into her a bit harder until finally he felt the resistance give and Pip cry out.
“That’s it,” he promised. “That’s all. Come on, my Pip. Let me please you again.”
Stroking, kissing her, he pumped into her deeper, deeper, gathering her whimpers and surviving her caresses, until her eyes flew open, and she opened her mouth and he felt her climax around him, milk him until he barely pulled out in time, wishing with all his heart he could have filled her with his seed and given them a future together. The minute he pulled out, he had the worst sensation that he had just been driven from home.
For very long moments, there was nothing in that shadowy room but the wash of frantic breathing, the sharp scent of lovemaking, the taste of sweat-dampened skin. There was only satiation and, finally, silence.
“Oh, my,” was all she said, wrapping her arms around him to keep him next to her.
He found that he was relieved. He didn’t really want to move anyway. He was still too busy reveling in the unbearable softness of her skin against his callused fingers, the silken dance of her flaxen curls against his cheek. He wanted to soak in the sound of her breathing and the scent of her soap, that garden she had brought into this uninspired room with her. He wanted, just for those moments, to pretend when he knew he had no right. The only way he gave in to reality was to roll off her and tuck her up under his arm, smiling when she laid her leg over his.
“Are you all right?” he asked, pulling up the cover against the deepening night.
