Was she really ready for this? She was dying for it, but could she handle the aftermath?
His gaze lifted as he delivered as gentle, sensation-rich kiss to her nipple and turned her slowly, easing her knees back against the bed.
“I’m not . . .” She couldn’t force the words out as he stared back at her.
She wasn’t sure of this. She didn’t know if this was the right time. If she was ready for it.
She didn’t know if she could bear it if he stopped touching her.
Her eyes met his, the conflict raging in her, shaking through her body as she fought to decide which she could bear the least—letting him go or facing the morning if she didn’t.
“It’s okay, Amaya.” The endearment rolled off his lips, a soft, dark drawl that stroked over the indecision tearing her apart. “Just tell me when to stop, when to go slow, whichever you need. It’s all for you. Just this.” His head lowered, his lips stroking against hers gently. “Just for you.”
Her lips parted.
His tongue eased inside, and she welcomed it with a low, breathless moan as she submitted once more to the incredible veil of sensuality he’d wrapped around her.
His lips worked over hers as his fingers returned to her thigh. Petting, stroking, his fingertips rubbed against her flesh as though he knew instinctively that her juices were rushing from her pussy, easing to her thighs, eager to meet him.
Her body was no longer her own. She felt as though it had been overtaken, possessed, her senses now controlled by the slightest touch of his body against her.
His lips moved to her neck, sensual, destructive little flicks of his tongue, his fingertips moving steadily closer to the slick, hot essence of her juices where they collected on the sensitive lips of her pussy.
Weakening, submissive arousal continued to grow inside her. She couldn’t make sense of so many sensations or the fact that she couldn’t fight them.
His teeth raked against the side of her neck, drawing a startled, surprised cry of pleasure from her. One hand stroked her back, trailed along her spine, then moved to the back of her thigh, to mere inches from the clenched rise of her ass.
The hand at her thigh moved steadily closer to its ultimate goal as she felt the heated moisture moving lower.
“Navarro, it feels too good,” she gasped as her own body betrayed her further.
Her hips jerked forward, the hollow ache clenching the muscles of her sex as her clit throbbed in eager anticipation of his touch.
The ache centered between her thighs was becoming tortured. Her clit was so swollen the ache was painful, the need for touch dragging muted, needy whimpers from her lips that she knew would have her flushing in shame once morning came.
“Can it feel too good, babe?” His tongue licked over her nipple again before he sucked it quickly into his mouth, the immediate, hard suction and firm rasp of his tongue across the nerve-laden bundle causing her nails to bite into his shoulders as she jerked against him.
Oh no, it couldn’t feel too good. The pleasure was destroying her though.
Where his touch had been slow and gentle before, the leashed quality of each caress apparent in the tension tightening his body, it was now as though a measure of that restraint had escaped.
Closely clipped, blunt nails scoured a sensually heated trail along her thighs before moving back. Hesitancy was replaced by male hunger, and when his fingers met the thick, slick essence of the juices spreading along the folds of her pussy, Mica lost what little restraint had been holding her back as well.
His thumb raked around the swollen bud of her clit as his head lifted. Black eyes narrowed, his lips appearing swollen, he stared down at her, his expression tight with hunger.
“Say no,” he growled. “When you want it to stop, Mica. If you become afraid. If you change your mind at any point, you’ve only to tell me.”
Her lips trembled. She couldn’t change her mind. She didn’t have the strength.
“I can’t. Help me, Navarro.” Because she knew this was a mistake, she could feel it, that edge of warning burning in the back of her senses.
His lips tightened as a growl suddenly rumbled hard and deep in his chest.
“Your choice. Not mine.”
His fingers slid through the saturated slit of her pussy, the roughened caress further exciting the sensitive nerve endings that lay beneath the swollen folds as he went to his knees in front of her.
She couldn’t stand.
As though his kneeling before her, hard hands gripping her hips, his lips brushing against her lower belly, were too much, Mica felt the strength leave her legs.
She eased back, at first only sitting on the bed, her fingers moving to his head, playing with the long, dark strands of his hair as his tongue ran over the swollen mounds of her breasts once again.
“Lie back for me, Mica.” His head lifting, his hands gripping her hips to pull her to the edge of the bed, Navarro eased back slowly. “I just want to taste you, sweetheart.”
A punch of sensation, hard and vibrant hot, slammed into her womb at the huskily spoken words.
Just taste her?
She eased back, feeling his lips stroke across her abdomen as his hands pressed against her inner thighs in a silent prompt to part them.
Staring down her body, Mica watched. The way his long hair framed his face, his black eyes, onyx bright as he parted the curl-soaked folds with his hands before his head lowered. Then, with a low, desperate moan, she watched as his head lowered and he delivered a firm, suckling kiss to the tortured, silky wet bud of her clitoris.
A sizzling, erotic firestorm seemed to whip through her, jerking her hips upward, her knees lifting to grip his hips as she arched, desperate to drive her pussy closer to the suckling heat of his mouth.
Burying her hands in his hair as though she could hold him to her, force him to end the torturous pleasure raging through her.
It wasn’t supposed to be like this without mating heat, was it?
“Like melted sugar,” he spoke against the ultrasensitive, throbbing bundle of nerves he’d held captive. “I knew your pussy would taste this sweet, Mica.”
She tasted sweet? Was that a good thing? Did she really care? Did anything matter but easing the burning need raging through her?
His gaze lifted, the jewel-bright black glittering in his bronze face.
As she watched, her eyes locked with his, his head lowered once again, and then Navarro got serious about the pleasure. Wicked, confident and experienced, his tongue raked in an erotic circular motion around her clit as one hand lifted, the thumb tucking between the soaked folds of flesh to find the entrance to her clenched vagina.
He pressed against the fragile opening, rotated his thumb and his lips covered her clit.
Mica jerked, completely unbalanced by the sensation whipping through her and the tension building inside her. There was no way to stop it, no way to catch her breath or her control.
Her hips arched; the need to get closer, for more, to find the end to the delicious pressure building behind her clit drove her.
Hunger was like a fever raging inside her. She couldn’t get enough of him. Enough of his touch, enough of the pressure barely pressing into her pussy, enough of his tongue flickering in ever tightening circles against her clit.
The building, pulsating waves began to burn, to flame, her stomach tightening, her womb clenching as her breath caught.
She could feel the edge, so close, pulling her over, looming like a specter of ecstasy, when suddenly, it was gone.
In a single breath Navarro was off her, the comforter flipping over her even as he jerked her from the bed to the floor.
She wasn’t stupid. She’d learned, trained with the Breeds in how to protect herself and how to help any Breed bodyguard in her protection.