He dragged his open mouth down her midline, kissing and licking at intervals until he left a wet trail between her breasts to her navel.
Despite his assurances that she was beautiful no matter her size, she tensed when his tongue laved over the soft skin of her belly. She wasn’t fat but neither did she have his taut, lean belly that you could bounce a quarter off. Plus she’d gained and lost weight so many times that she sagged in certain areas.
“Relax,” he murmured as his tongue dipped into her belly button.
Then he kissed every inch of her abdomen and then lowered his mouth to her pelvis. After pressing a gentle kiss to the flesh just above the juncture of her legs, he raised his head and eased a finger over her bare folds.
“I like this,” he murmured.
She didn’t raise her head because, really, she’d never had a man do an analysis of her pussy while she was lying beneath him.
“What do you like?”
He stroked the lips of her vagina and then ran his finger over the small triangle of hair just over the hood that shielded her clitoris.
“Your wax job. I hear women talk about them, but I’ve never seen one exactly. You know, in person.”
At that she did raise her head and she arched an eyebrow in his direction. “Never?”
He shrugged. “The women I’ve been with aren’t groomed down there.”
She laughed. “You make me sound like a poodle.”
His fingers returned to her folds. He seemed to be fascinated with the smoothness because he kept stroking her over and over until she was ready to twitch right off the bed. Didn’t he realize he was making her crazy?
“Do you like it?” he asked.
“Yeah, I do. It makes me feel . . . sexy.”
At that he grinned and stared up at her with approval in his eyes. “I’m glad, then. You need to be as convinced as I am of just how beautiful you are.”
He lowered his head and nuzzled softly through her folds. The tip of his tongue brushed ever so lightly over her clit and she shuddered uncontrollably.
“You taste as sweet as you feel,” he murmured.
“You know just how to get to me,” she whispered. “Words are my life. How they flow. Their meaning. Twisting and turning them and making them more beautiful. Whenever you talk to me like this, I hear it like it’s a song.”
“You don’t want me to sing,” he said in amusement.
She nudged him upward with her knees and then reached for him, wanting him over her body. She wanted him to cover her like a blanket so there wasn’t an inch of her skin untouched.
He rose over her and she clutched at his shoulders, reveling in his hard strength.
“You don’t have to sing. I hear it in your words. No one has ever said such beautiful things to me.”
“Then you’re hanging out with the wrong people.”
And then he started again. Scorching a path over her body, only this time he stopped at her breasts, lavishing attention on each of them. He coaxed her nipples to rigid peaks and then he sucked them between his teeth, one at a time, alternating until she was making incomprehensible sounds of pleasure.
His movements were like the most beautiful notes. Perfect pitch. So in tune with her body—and her soul. He stroked her like a pianist might stroke the keys of a song he’d composed just for her.
She heard the notes, the raw, exquisite beauty, as they reverberated over her skin.
She no longer even knew what she needed. She needed him. Just him. It was a stupid thought but it was all that echoed in her mind.
“Please, Connor. I need you.”
As if realizing just what the admission cost her, he looked down at her tenderly as his hand went to part her thighs. He settled one knee between them and then he reached over her body to pick up a condom she hadn’t realized was resting beside her pillow.
He gave a slight groan as he rolled the latex over his cock. “God, I’m so close to coming and I haven’t even gotten inside you.”
She shifted restlessly, hoping he got the message that she didn’t want to wait any longer. Her skin felt too tight. Pressure swelled in her core until she fidgeted. She burned.
He eased his fingers farther into her heat and she moaned. His thumb gently circled her clit just as he fitted another finger and delved into her tight passage.
“You’re not ready yet, baby,” he murmured.
Her eyes flew open. “Please, Connor.”
“Not yet. I don’t want to hurt you.”
She sighed but closed her eyes when he lowered his mouth to her breast while his fingers continued their slow exploration of her most intimate recesses.
He stroked in and out in a perfect demonstration of how his cock would stroke through her insides to the very heart of her. She arched into his touch like a cat seeking petting. A low sound of contentment poured out of her throat and she reached blindly for him as he continued his erotic assault on her senses.
Her fingers curled into his hair, running through the crisp, short hairs as she held him to her breast. She idly stroked down to his nape and followed the thickly corded muscles of his neck and shoulders.
He was a perfect specimen of a man. Long, lean and tight. Clean-cut. Mr. All-American. Which begged the question of why in the hell he was attracted to her—she was decidedly not a fresh-faced girl next door in middle-class America. That was the woman she could see Connor with. Mr. Always Do Right with Miss Sweet Apple Pie.
“You left me,” Connor murmured.
She blinked and he came sharply into focus. He was staring down at her, his gaze seeking.
“Am I doing something wrong?”
She softened at his tone. His desire to please her couldn’t be more prevalent. Fuck Miss Apple Pie. Lyric hated apple pie anyway. This man was hers at least for the next half hour, and quite frankly, she’d kick some Miss America ass if she came within spitting distance of Connor.
She wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him down for a long, breathless kiss.
“You’re doing everything perfect.”
CHAPTER 17
Connor rotated over Lyric until he came to rest between her thighs, his body held up off her by his hands on either side of her head.
She was ready for him. Satiny smooth and slick with her own arousal. And in her eyes glowed a sweetness that belied her hard edge.
There was something to be said for a soft, willing woman underneath you—who looked at you like you held the answer to all the problems in the world.
Lyric without the bite was sweet indeed. It made him wonder if anyone else ever saw the woman underneath the layers she’d carefully constructed. Did anyone even care?
Wanting to taste her again, he fit his mouth to hers and licked over the seam of her lips just as he positioned himself at her entrance.
“Tell me you’re ready now, Lyric,” he strained out. “Because I can’t wait any longer.”
His body screamed at him to take her. To mark her and possess her in every primitive way there was for a man to possess a woman.
“Take me,” she whispered.
The fact that her words so perfectly echoed his thoughts made his chest tighten. Desire raged through his veins and he stilled for a moment before the urge to thrust as deeply into her as possible took over.
He eased forward, bathing the head of his cock in her silken flesh. Sweat broke out on his forehead as he fought for control.
“Connor.”
His name escaped as a whispered plea and her eyes were glazed with passion. She stared at him through half lids, her vibrant blue eyes looking drugged and unfocused.
He inched forward, pushing farther inside her. God, she was tight.
Her nails raked over his back and came to rest on his ass. She arched and pulled at the same time, trying to force him deeper. With a groan he relented and thrust hard.