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He paused. Anya felt her breath hitch as his hands lifted to her breasts, his fingers curving around the mounds as he palmed them with delicious greed. The look on his face as he touched her was pure male hunger. Part lust, and part more. Something deeper, something that touched the feminine part of her soul and made her weaker, made her ache for more. It made her welcome the excruciating arousal that tormented her body, because she could see his nostrils flare, see him breathing her in as his hands flexed on her aching breasts.
“God, I love the scent of you wanting me,” he groaned, reflecting her thoughts as his lips lowered to the mounds rising above the lace cups.
Anya shivered as he licked over them. His tongue rasped her sensitive flesh, coming incredibly close to the hardened tips of her nipples.
“Are you going to torture me?” She gasped.
“I’m going to torture both of us.” A flush mantled his cheekbones as he licked over the lace that covered her nipples. “Because I need to taste you, Anya. I need to feel you against me, so sweet and warm. Lifting to me, needing me, Anya. Just need me.”
And she did need him. She didn’t have the option of blaming it on the mating heat. She had wanted him before he ever kissed her. She had wanted him after the hormone therapy had controlled the painful spasms of need. There hadn’t been a time since she was sixteen that she hadn’t wanted him.
Beneath her hands his flesh was heated and solid. Beneath his lips sensation sizzled against her flesh.
“Take this off.” He pushed at her sweater as his tongue traveled into the valley between her breasts.
Her arms lifted to allow him to push the material over her head. No sooner had it dropped to the floor than his hands were at the waistband of her pants, flipping open the closure and lowering the zipper.
Mesmerized by the pleasure on his face, by the pleasure winging through her, she could do nothing but watch his expression as his hand slid past the material, beneath her panties and into the swollen, slick folds of her sex.
Her head fell back to the stone wall as her breath locked in her throat. Pleasure, ecstasy—it winged through her with such sensual promise that there was nothing left but to hold on to him as he stroked her. Caressed her.
“I need you naked,” he growled against the rise of one breast, which he licked sensually. “Can you toe the boots off?”
The boots? She shook her head in confusion. What boots? She didn’t care about the damned boots, not with his fingers slipping into the desperate, aching heat between her thighs.
His head lifted, fingers moving slowly, so slowly before stilling altogether. Anya’s hips pressed into the touch, arching against his palm as she gazed back at him in desperate need.
“Toe the boots off.” A grin tugged at his lips as the savage features of his face softened with sensual amusement. “Come on, baby. One foot at a time.”
She whimpered in need, her foot reaching out for his.
“Ah, baby. Your boots,” he groaned, his lips feathering over hers. “Toe your boots off.”
Oh yeah. Her boots.
She lowered one hand, knee bending, fingers finding the zipper at the side of her low boot before fumbling and pushing one free of her foot. She repeated with the other foot until her toes were curling with the pleasure of his renewed, gentle strokes into the folds he possessed.
With his other hand he pushed the pants over her hips, dragging her panties with them as he went to his knees before her.
“Del-Rey, the bed,” she gasped.
“Fuck the bed.” His voice rasped along her nerve endings as pleasure quaked through her body. “I need to taste you now, Anya. My tongue in your sweet pussy.” His lips feathered over the curls between her thighs. “So sweet and soft. So damned good.”
Her thighs parted beneath the guiding force of his hands. Her fingers curled into the thick, coarse strands of his dark blond hair and she watched. Watched as his tongue licked through the saturated slit, ran around her clit and sucked the last of any
chance of control from her sensation-ridden body.
Del-Rey licked, stroked, tasted. His tongue ravaged her flesh, left her shaking, shuddering as she fought to keep her knees locked, her body pressed against the wall.
“I’m going to fall,” she cried.
“I’ll hold you, baby.” Sexy, wicked, an inhumanly erotic growl breathed against her clit.
She nearly came. Pulses of extreme pleasure rippled through her body at the sight, the sound, the touch.
“So close,” he crooned in that sensual, graveled tone. “I can smell how close you are, Anya. Are you going to come for me, baby?”
She breathed in roughly, her breath hissing between her teeth as his tongue circled her clit again, before slipping it in and sucking it with deliberate, exquisite draws of his mouth.
