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He nipped in retaliation, drawing another moan from her as he then licked the erotic little wound.
“It will change everything,” he assured her. “And I never wanted to chain you.”
It would change them both, whether they wanted it to or not. Just as it would chain them both.
Holding her slight weight to him, Lawe turned and bore her to the bed. Placing his knee in the mattress he lowered her to the comforter, his gaze narrowing as her eyes opened once again, staring up at him with a dazed pleasure that awed him.
He’d always pleased the women he’d had in his bed, he’d made certain of it. But seeing that look in his mate’s eyes had his stomach tightening and his cock swelling harder, impossibly larger, with a male pride that made no sense to him. He hadn’t even brought her to her orgasm yet. That pride should be saved for her completion, yet here it was, rising in response to the pleasure he was giving her.
Lifting his hips from between her thighs, he allowed his hand to stroke from the rounded curve of her breast then down her curved waist, to her hip, to slide between her slender thighs and the humid warmth between them.
Hot, slick, the moisture gathered on the silken folds of her cunt, lying thick and heavy, easing the way for his fingers as they slid through the narrow slit.
Her hips jerked, a small, throttled cry falling from her lips as her hips arched, lifting to him as he let just the tip of his finger circle the hardening little bud of her clit.
Silken, throbbing with arousal, the little nubbin reached out for his fingers as Diane’s hips twisted and writhed against his touch. The scent of her cunt, heated and female, drew him, making his mouth water for her taste as his lips moved from along her torso, easing closer to the humid dampness mesmerizing him.
Between his thighs his cock was a solid ache, throbbing against the comforter as he sought to draw as much of her in as possible.
His.
Mine. The word echoed through his head in a primal thought, a silent roar of primitive possession as he let his cheek brush against the curls between her thighs.
Neat, feminine, barely shielding the soft folds, those curls were dewed with her juices, a sweetened elixir he was dying to taste.
With a gentle lick, a touch as soft as a breath, he licked over the droplets, feeling her still beneath him.
Not out of fear.
Out of anticipation.
A ragged, animalistic sound rumbled in his throat as he let his tongue ease into her slit, working up, gathering the wet silk to his tongue and tasting pure ecstasy as he drew it to him.
“Lawe! Oh God . . .” Diane arched, blinded by the surge of pleasure that tore through her system like a kaleidoscope of pure light and color.
Tightening her fingers in his hair she fought to hold him in place, the feel of his tongue, just a bit more of a rasp than human, caused electric currents to pop and zing through the little bud as they sent snaking fingers of rapturous sensation to attack her womb.
Back arching, her head thrown back, she bent her knees and pressed her feet into the bed as her hips pressed closer. She couldn’t get close enough, she couldn’t get enough sensation, enough pleasure building at just the right moment to send her surging over that edge of ecstasy awaiting her.
It was just out of reach. So close it tempted and tantalized as each stroke of his tongue threw her closer to that edge without allowing her to fly over.
“So good,” she moaned as a surge of heat pierced her clitoris, wrapped around it and burned with sensual flames. “Oh God, Lawe. I can’t bear it . . .”
She needed to come. Just once. Just enough to ease the ever tightening conflagration burning through her.
Instead, he stoked it, stroked her, and sent her racing into a storm of pure sensation while holding her back from the orgasm she was fighting to reach.
A rumbling moan of pleasure vibrated against the sensitive bud as she felt his fingers, the calloused tips stroking from the inside of her thigh to the swollen folds of her pussy.
She lifted again, her hips grinding into his lips as she fought to breathe, then held her breath as she fought for release.
A ragged moan, so unlike her, filled with pleading and with a hiss of agony and pleasure escaped her throat as she felt those teasing, tormenting fingertips at the entrance to her vagina.
Not just one, but two. Broad, strong, they rubbed and caressed as he pressed her thighs farther apart with his free hand. Spreading her legs wider she arched to him again, certain she couldn’t bear such an intimate touch without exploding in pure need.
Yet he managed to keep her poised on that edge even as his fingers began to stretch her entrance. Rubbing, caressing, easing inside her as Diane felt her juices gathering and flowing harder as the pleasure rose with impossible heat.
Rachel hadn’t mentioned this, she thought hazily as that imperative need began to burn brighter, hotter than before, higher than she could imagine it.
