NRoberts - G2 Black Rose

 Shaken, right down to the soles of her feet, she leaned against the door. Her heart felt swollen and tender, and its beat was a throbbing ache in her breast. When she moved, she moved carefully, like a woman sliding through the fog of a dream. And she saw her own fingers tremble as she set flame to candlewick.

 “I want you.” Her voice was steady enough, and she was grateful. “And the want is stronger and different than any I’ve felt before. Maybe it’s because I—”

 “Don’t question it. Not tonight anyway.”

 “All right.” She turned, as he did, so they faced each other across the room. “We’ll leave it that I want you, very much. That it presses on me, not entirely comfortably.”

 In the gilded light, he crossed to her, took both her hands. “Let me show you how I feel.”

 He lifted her hands, turning them palms up to press his lips to one, then the other. Then he cupped her face, stroking his thumbs over her cheeks as his fingers slid back into her hair.

 “Let me take you,” he said as his mouth cruised over hers. “Tonight, just let me take you.”

 He asked for surrender. And surrender was a great deal to ask. But she gave him her mouth, then her body as his hands stroked over her. And they were dancing again, circling and swaying as the dreamy pleasure he offered slipped into her like rich, red wine.

 He slid her shirt aside, and was murmuring in her ear, about her skin, her scent. And the dance was like floating.

 She was giving him what he’d asked. Surrender. Though it was slow, inch by inch, he could feel it, that gorgeous yielding of self. He undressed her as they danced, taking almost painful care, almost painful pleasure in removing each barrier that blocked his hands from her flesh.

 It was incredibly erotic, dancing in the firelight, the candlelight, her naked body pressed to his while he was still fully clothed. To see that long, lean line of her in the mirror, the way the light played over her skin, to feel that skin shiver under his hands. To feel her pulses jump under his mouth.

 When he slipped his hand between her thighs, he felt her body jerk, heard her breath catch.

 She was hot, already hot and wet. And her nails dug into his shoulders as he began to play her, lazily. Little tortuous strokes that had her breath going short and harsh, and his own blood pumping.

 Her body plunged, then melted against his when she came. Her head fell back even as he continued to arouse, and her eyes were glazed and stunned.

 She was so pliant he could almost pour her onto the bed. They watched each other as he stood, undressed.

 Then he skimmed his finger over her leg, lifted it, bent to it, and rubbed his lips along her calf. “So much more I want from you.”

 Yes, she thought. So much more. And surrendering to it, to him, gave him all he wanted.

 His mouth found her, shot her up again, breathlessly, until she had to grip the spread or fly apart.

 He exploited and explored, and took, took while the air went thick and sweet as syrup, and the deepest, darkest pleasures quivered inside her.

 She could hear herself sobbing for him, even as he slid into her. His languorous pace never altered, only built arousal higher with a near brutal patience, a delicious, drugging friction. She had no choice, no control any longer, could only quiver, could only ache, could only enjoy as he nudged her closer and closer to the edge.

 And when she fell that final time, it was like flying.

 SHE WAS STILLtrembling. It was ridiculous, she told herself. It was foolish, but she couldn’t seem to stop. She was warm, even overwarm, and only then realized both of them were slick with sweat.

 She’d been thoroughly seduced, then thoroughly used. And she couldn’t find a thing wrong with either.

 “I’m trying to think of something appropriate to say.”

 His lips moved against her neck. “How about ‘wow’?”

 She managed to move her heavy arms enough to brush a hand through his hair. “That probably covers it. I came three times.”

 “Four.”

 “Four?” Her voice was as hazy as her vision. “I must’ve lost count.”

 “I didn’t.” And there was a wicked satisfaction in his tone, one that she saw reflected in his face as he rolled onto his back.

 “Since I’m in such a blissful state, I’m going to admit that’s the first time I’ve ever come four times.”

 He reached down, found her hand, linked fingers. “Stick with me, kid, and it won’t be the last.”

 She laughed, a full-out bawdy roll of laughter, then shifted to prop herself up on his chest. “Pretty proud of yourself.”

 “Damn right.”

 “Me, too.” She pillowed her head over his heart, shut her eyes. “I go running around six.”

 “Is that A.M.?”

 “Yes, it is. Harper’s got some spare clothes in the next bedroom, if you want to join me.”

 “ ’Kay.”

 She let herself drift, like a cat curled for a nap. “She left us alone.”

 “I know.”

 FOURTEEN