He pulled free and kissed her neck, working his way up until he kissed that tender spot just below her ear.
“I need you, baby,” he murmured. “I need to feel you. To taste you. To own you.”
“Yes, Mick. Please.”
He stroked her hair, kissed her cheek, her jaw, before pulling her nightgown over her head, leaving her naked before him.
“So beautiful,” he said, awe in his voice as his hands swept over her breasts. “The most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.”
She moaned when he bent to kiss her breasts, his lips brushing across her nipples. Desire heated her blood, her nipples going hard beneath his touch, her sex going wet. He filled his big hands with her breasts, kneading them, then slipping down over her ribs, her stomach.
“Mick . . . God, I need you.”
“You have me, my baby,” he told her softly. “You have me.”
He went down on his knees and her hands went into his hair. His breath was hot against her belly, then lower.
“Oh . . .”
He kissed her over and over at that sweet juncture of hip and thigh, then moved in until his mouth feathered over the tip of her clitoris. Using his fingers, he parted the swollen folds and kissed her there, quick, tender kisses. Slowly they became more lingering—just his soft mouth until she thought she’d go mad as need built inside her.
“Mick.”
“Shh.”
He bent once more and used his hot, wet tongue on her, licking at the lips of her sex, still holding her open with his fingers. Her fingers dug into his scalp as her legs went weak.
Oh, his mouth was good. He licked her, finally, and she arched her hips. He licked her again, one long, slow stroke from the top of her hood and all the way down. She parted her thighs and he slipped his thumbs inside her.
“Ah . . .”
He began a slow stroking cadence, his thumbs pushing in, sliding out, his tongue gliding over her flesh, making her crazy with the need to come. She bit her lip, held it back, knowing it would be all the better if she did.
Then suddenly he shifted, three fingers plunging into her soaking-wet sex as he sucked her hard clit into his mouth.
“Oh!”
She came all at once, pleasure surging into her. Lips and teeth and tongue and plunging fingers filling her, and God, she’d never come so hard in her life. Stars flashed behind her closed eyes, bursting into flame, dazzling her with their brilliance—with the brilliance of the sensation pouring into her body like white lightning.
Before she was done he was on his feet, kissing her again, pulling her into his arms, then lifting her and carrying her into her bedroom.
He set her on the bed and was on top of her in an instant, his big body pressing her into the mattress. She could feel his hard cock through his damp clothes. She scrabbled at the hem of his shirt with blind fingers until he pushed off her long enough to pull it over his head.
Her hands went to his tight abs, smoothed up to his chest—she had to touch him, to know he was real.
Her heart surged when she looked up to find him watching her, his eyes filled with love and desire so intense it made her squirm.
“So damn beautiful,” he told her.
“Mick, I need you. Now. Please.”
He slipped out of his sweats and laid his body over hers once more. He slid a hand down her thigh, paused to tickle at the back of her knee before moving down her calf.
“I love this body,” he said. “I’ve loved it all my life. I’ve loved you all my life. I’ll love you for the rest of it, Allie girl.”
“I love you, Mick. So much.”
His hands went to her hips and he lifted them. She spread her thighs wider and wrapped her legs around his back, needing him.
He paused at the entrance to her body, his gaze locking with hers, and she felt his love in that steady gaze. Felt it course through her, making her shiver. With love. With need. She reached for his hands and his fingers clasped hers, holding on tight, lifting her arms over her head as he slid into her.
“Ah, Allie . . . baby . . .”
She watched as his face went loose with pleasure, as the same pleasure coursed through her. He began to move and she moved with him, every lovely motion liquid, sinuous, as though they moved with one body. One desire.
He turned them both until she lay on top of him, their hands still clasped above their heads. He surged up into her, his cock instantly hitting her G-spot. Pleasure blazed, searing her as the need to come took her over once more. She paused at that keen, lovely edge.
“I can feel you, baby girl. So hot inside. I can feel you . . . clench around me. Come for me, baby. Come with me.”
“Yes . . .”
She let it happen as he bucked into her over and over, her climax flooding her until she was drunk with pleasure, drunk with him. And she felt the stinging current of his own climax inside her as he called her name.
“Allie . . . my baby . . . my girl.”
He let her hands free and wrapped her in his arms, holding her tight. He kissed her hair, his breath rough against her cheek, then he took her face in his palms and kissed her hard. His sweet tongue slid into her mouth, and they were making out as they’d done in high school—everything that hot, that desperate even now, after they’d both come. But the need was more about the pure need to be together. To love each other.
Finally they slowed down, until it was simply one soft kiss after another. A press of lips, a slow delicious glide of tongues. Finally he held her head to his chest. His heart was a hammering beat against her cheek. Everything about the moment was exactly what she needed.
They lay together while the rain fell outside—she could hear the soft patter against the leaves in her garden. Could almost feel the rain and the clouds like a soft blanket holding them in the city’s arms. And knew, finally, she was home.
* * *
THEY’D HAD A glorious week together—or almost. Mick had been called away for work on Thursday night. It was Saturday night and Allie couldn’t wait to see him. But the anticipation of seeing him again wasn’t the only cause of the butterflies in her stomach, the breathlessness that was making her dizzy as she knelt on the floor at the foot of the big four-poster bed behind her.
He had told her he’d arrive at The Bastille at nine o’clock, and she knew it must be nearly nine. She glanced around the Victorian-themed room, where he’d instructed her to wait for him—the damask wallpaper, the carved furnishings, then down at the ornate red-and-gold Persian rug. She knew she’d done exactly as he’d asked—dressed in the ivory silk waist-cincher corset that had arrived at her house that morning, and nothing else. But in her hand she held the one surprise she had for him.
Her fingers stroked over the leather, and she inhaled, taking in the earthy scent.
If only he would hurry. But it was Mick, and she knew he wouldn’t.
She closed her eyes and took in a slow breath, exhaled the way she’d been taught, trying to center herself. And had barely managed to get her pounding heart to calm when she heard the door open.
Mick.
“Good girl.”
Ah, the words that always made her melt, and he knew it. She felt her body yielding, her mind following. Her heart was already there.
She looked up and smiled at him as he drew her to her feet. He was so handsome in his dark jeans, his black shirt rolled up at the cuffs, revealing the strong muscles of his forearms. Then those arms were around her, and she was being crushed against the hard planes of his chest as his mouth came down on hers. He kissed her hard, bit her lip, drew it out between his teeth before letting it go to bury his head in her neck. He kissed the tender skin, bit her there, letting his teeth sink in just until she gasped.
He pulled back, smiling at her. “I missed you, baby girl.”
“I missed you.”
He stroked her hair. “Are you ready for tonight?”
“Yes. I’m ready.”
“I can tell you’re sinking down already, Allie. I hear it in your voice. I see it in your eyes. In the flush of your pretty skin.”