“No,” he murmured in her ear. “It’s going to get you fucked. Long and hard and relentlessly.”
Good gravy. As dirty as his words were, they sounded not just sexual, but seductive. Decker wouldn’t be mechanical. He wouldn’t be merely willing—but happy—to do whatever made her come apart for him. Rachel couldn’t find words to reply, so she just whimpered.
“Now.” Decker bent and lifted her into his arms, cradling her against his chest. She shrieked. He tossed her onto the bed, then followed her down as she bounced on the mattress. He flattened her with his body, covering her completely as he dragged her mouth under his and claimed it with a wild kiss that left her hot and gasping under him.
This was what she’d always envisioned—racing hearts, desire, earnest need, the anticipation of pleasure so explosive . . .
Raising up on his haunches for a long moment, Decker took in the sight of her naked and flushed. “Damn, you’re more lush and gorgeous than I imagined.”
The appreciation on his face spoke a million praises. Unlike Owen, he was here not because sex was one of those tiresome marital exchanges he had to contend with. Decker was here because he wanted to be. Because he wanted her.
The hunger in his eyes made her nipples harden again. Her skin tingled as she waited impatiently to feel his hands all over her again, his thick erection buried deep within her.
“You imagined me?”
“Looking across the bar at you, yeah. I couldn’t wait to see these.” He cupped her breasts. “Get my mouth on them.”
Then he was tasting her nipples again. A lick, a nip, a strong suck, and she moaned. Goodness, what he could do with his mouth . . . That direct line of sensation pulsed between her breasts and her slick female flesh below, and she writhed impatiently.
“But now . . .” He pinned her with a hot blue stare that made her quake. “I’m trying to decide how to make you come first. So many choices, and we’ll get to them all eventually. Should I start with my fingers?”
Decker rolled slightly away and used one of his legs to pull hers apart. Then he stared straight down at her sex, now wet and pouting and aching. Automatically, she reached down to cover herself. Owen had said that vaginas were messy and unpleasant to look at, so she’d always kept hers shielded from him with a robe or flowing nightie.
Covering herself only seemed to displease Decker. He manacled her wrists in his grip and transferred them to one big hand before he pinned them to the bed above her head. “Don’t move.”
Rachel pressed against his hold experimentally. It was solid. She wasn’t getting up until he let her. That should probably have alarmed her, but the ease with which he restrained her in his grip reminded her how small she was compared with him, almost helpless. That wasn’t a feeling she liked in any other area of her life, but under Decker as he touched her . . . Everything about the moment was sublimely erotic.
With her hands trapped, cool air blew across her slick folds. She shivered. “You w-want to look at me?”
“Damn straight. Tonight, that’s my pussy. I’m going to look at it, touch it, taste it . . . violate it in every way I can think of.”
She blushed, the words coming from Decker’s mouth rousing a tight heat inside her. Then nothing else mattered when he lowered his free hand between her legs, parted her folds with expert fingers, and dragged two of them directly over her most sensitive flesh. Pleasure tingled and burned from that spot, radiating outward for a glorious moment.
She writhed, moaned, all but begging without words.
“Like that?” he whispered against the side of her breast before he kissed the swell of flesh again, then took her turgid nipple in his mouth once more, sucking it to the roof.
“Yes!” she shrieked.
“You won’t try to keep me from your sweet pussy, will you?”
Though he phrased his words like a question, Rachel knew quite well that it wasn’t. She looked up at him, licking her lips and parting them, anticipation amping her up. “No.”
“That’s what I wanted to hear.”
With one hand, he pinned her to the bed, with the other, he plumped and pinched her clitoris, so throbbing and hungry for his touch. In between, he worked his voracious mouth over her nipple. Blood raced through her body. Pleasure climbed inside her. Her senses awakened to him, so attuned. She craved more of the rough feel of his fingers, the scent of his mysterious musk rising between them, his demanding stare promising her more.
“Now. Please now.” Rachel didn’t care if she was pleading.
“I’m still debating the best way to give you your first orgasm. Doing it with my fingers is fun and easy.” He toyed with the little pink pearl of nerves, a slow, circular drag of his fingertips over and over. “I can feel you hardening and swelling for me. Your body is tensing. I have total control of your reactions, and you look so fucking sexy flushing and begging. That prim exterior is gone, and the woman underneath . . . no other man has ever seen her. She’s mine.”
Rachel knew they were probably nothing more than pretty words, but she appreciated them—except that every moment he talked, he prolonged her torment. But nothing would make him move faster. Something about being utterly at his mercy made her need burn even hotter. She bit her lip.
Decker gave her a long, slow smile. “You’re getting close, aren’t you?
She nodded frantically.
“Fighting the urge to beg?”
Rachel nodded again. But not begging wasn’t working, so she gave up. “I don’t care how you do it, just please . . .”
“I care.”
Decker whispered those words against her lips. Then he took her mouth in another long kiss of wrenching desire that made her dizzy and hot. She tried to curl her arms around him, but he held her hands firmly pinned to the bed.
He began her suffering again, his fingertips fondling her clitoris in long, unhurried drags. Her sizzling, slick nerves ignited. Pleasure coiled. Breathing took a backseat to anticipating his next touch. The need swelled to something far bigger and better than she’d ever given herself. Rachel writhed. So close . . .
“You like my fingers?” he baited.
“Yes.” The breathy cry sounded an awful lot like a plea.
“I think you’ll like this even more.”
He prowled down the length of her body, his lips grazing her abdomen and laving her hip, before he settled between her thighs. With big palms, he pushed her legs wider apart. Then, with a deep breath, he inhaled. His eyes closed as if savoring her scent. His hot blue stare zipped up her body and captured her gaze. The electric arc between them was like a shockwave to her chest. She gasped.
Impatiently, Decker lowered his head toward her drenched folds. Rachel felt her eyes go saucer round. Would he? Sure, he’d talked about it, but . . .
Decker fell hungrily on her pouting, aching sex. He lapped at her clit with his tongue. Oh goodness, he would. She couldn’t decide whether to squirm out of her skin or simply melt. She’d never even imagined anything like the hot, wet oven of his mouth. He sucked her in, gently grazing her sensitive tip with his tongue, then his teeth, lavishing her. Devouring her.
As she thrashed on the bed, a cry trapped at the back of her throat sprang free and echoed off the walls. The muscles in her thighs stiffened. The rest of her body followed. The precipice of pleasure rushed up to her. She could see right over the edge. Decker dangled her there—a lazy swipe of his tongue here, a starved suckling there. A frustrating nip at her inner thighs and a long, heated glance up her body later, she nearly howled with demand.
But he seemed to know exactly what she wanted and delighted in making her ache.