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As if she could resist the seduction in his words, the memories conjured up by the
slow, teasing grind of his erection against her hip. Deal, she said.
With a flick of his wrist he turned off the heat under the pan. She started for the
door but he caught her, held her to him as he backed her through the living room and
up the stairs. He seemed both reluctant to let her more than an inch away from him and
desperate to get her clothes off. She lost the sweater in a heated kissing match just
outside the kitchen door. Behind her as they negotiated the stairs, he still managed to
strip off her turtleneck half way up.
Turn around.
Poised one step above him, the height difference brought her head almost level
with his, so she was able to trail the pads of her fingers along his rough jaw as he stared
at her forest green satin bra.
I missed you in your sexy underwear, he said as he brushed his thumbs over her
nipples.
Goosebumps rippled up her arms and her mouth went dry. It s not that sexy, she
demurred as she tugged off his shirt. Compared to thongs and push-up bras, her bikini
briefs and demi-cup barely qualified as sensual. He, however, took her breath away,
hard and broad, the muscles bunching and flexing under his skin.
He dropped to his knees on the riser below her and shot her a look full of dark
desire as he tugged her fleece pants down. Looking at you in your suit, knowing
there s something so pretty underneath, makes me want to undo all those buttons and
get you out of your clothes, just to see what you ve got on.
The heated words and the sure, warm touch of his hands along the curve of her
bottom made her sit down, hard, on the cabbage rose runner. I stocked up in New
York, she whispered.
Good, he murmured against her breast. In the living room below them the fire
crackled and danced, casting long shadows up the stairs as he reached around to deftly
unfasten her bra and pull it off. She lay back on her elbows, her hair falling behind her
as she watched him reach for the elastic edge of her panties and pull them down.
Right here on the stairs? she gasped when he urged her to lift so he could pull off
her panties.
His hands smoothed up her inner legs, parting them as he went. He leaned forward
and kissed the soft skin below her ribs. Right here on the stairs, he confirmed.
The heat of his mouth against her inner thigh made her gasp, a sound she made
again when his stubble rasped against her needy flesh. He passed over it with a faint
brush of his lips before laving her other thigh. Her hipbones. Her softly rounded belly.
Trembling, her legs splayed wide while he took his time, made her wait for the moment
when his tongue touched her clit.
180
Liberating Lacey
When the moment came she cried out and arched toward him. Each hard stroke of
his tongue over the swollen nub tightened the coil of tension low in her belly, until she
was drawn tight as a bow, quivering under his mouth, incoherent. All her senses drew
in, focusing on the exquisite, tingling tightness between her legs, her hitching breaths,
the fire now dancing behind her closed eyelids until time stopped and fierce pleasure
pulsed through her.
She subsided, legs quivering as she relaxed into the hard wood of the risers. Then
the world spun around as he slid his arms under her knees and shoulders, lifting her
with ease. When the rumpled sheets of her unmade bed met her back, she opened her
eyes to see him shove his jeans down and off, then came over her, his weight on his
elbows as he urged her legs apart with his knees, unselfconsciously making room for
his body.
After a month apart she expected a fast rush to the finish, but he stretched out and
smoothed her hair back from her face before reaching down to grip her hip. Adrift on
waves of sensation she slid her hands up his damp, muscled back to grip his shoulders
and find solid ground. Blunt and insistent, his shaft probed, found entrance to her body.
She watched unguarded emotion wash across his face as he sank into her. Wonder.
Pleasure. Need. Anticipation.
Love. Under it all, infusing every look, every action, every touch. Love.
Sensitized by the orgasm and need too long denied, his first thrust stroked over
aching nerve endings and made her gasp. He paused, buried in her to the hilt as he
stared down at her without blinking. She stared back, helplessly snared by the fierce
pleasure and stark possession on his face. As he began to move she dug her fingernails
into his shoulders, holding on as the pleasure grew to need, then agony. Thick and hard
inside her, stretching her deliciously, each plunging stroke drove her closer and closer
until she arched hard against his unyielding body and flew apart.
The harsh rasp of his breath in her ear brought her back to earth, desperate need
simmering under the tense cadence of his strokes. He let out a gasp, his rhythm
disintegrating as a month of deprivation took its toll. He thrust once more, deep and
sure, then the agony etched into his face softened into satisfaction as he pulsed inside
her.
Eventually he twisted onto his back, keeping her close against his side. She laid her
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