Manwhore +1
Page 58Electricity crackles between us as his eyes trap and hold mine. I nod.
“What part of you?”
Ohgod.
Every part.
Every part on the outside, every part on the inside. I want to be devoured by him and I want to devour him right back.
Nervous and so ravenous my throat hurts, I reach out and add chocolate to my lips. “Here,” I whisper shyly.
He grins. “Here?” He leans over and teases the chocolate into his mouth, lapping it gently up from the corner of my mouth.
White-hot lightning streaks through me and I think I make a sound; a needy whimper. He pulls me close and then, then, he kisses and tastes the pie from my lips, every part of my body feeling his kiss.
His eyes are heavy-lidded as he runs his fingers over the chocolate he just spread on my nipples, lightly caressing. “And here? Rachel?”
“Oh, God, Malcolm,” is all I can say, clutching his shoulders. He leans in to lick and taste me where there’s chocolate. My mouth. I moan softly. My nipple. I moan more. My other nipple. I throw my head back and just hang on to his hard shoulders.
“Delicious. Don’t move . . .” he husks out. One strong arm circles my waist to hold me on my feet.
I nip his lower lip as the need for him starts consuming me from the inside out. I’ve never been so brazen, so reckless, but he . . . he does this to me. Sexy as hell. He teases me. He eludes me. He makes me wonder what he’s thinking. He’s nice to me. He’s hot for me. God. Look at me.
I kiss him back rather ravenously, so he knows that today meant a lot to me. So much more than I imagined it would. His kiss is just as intimate, slow, savoring, no more chocolate now, just us. And when he speaks, he sounds so turned on I ache inside. “Don’t move,” he says again. His gaze lowers, just like his voice did, and he unwraps the drawstring of my skirt with slow, deft hands. When I see my panties flutter as they follow it to the floor, my heart flutters too in anticipation.
Securing me in place with one hand on my waist, he sucks on a breast again. He laps up the remainder of the chocolate and the whipped cream but it seems that the thing he wants to reach—to taste, to eat—is me. My puckered nipple throbbing under his kiss. Wondering where he’ll touch me next is so very thrilling that he’s making me crazed with arousal.
“Don’t move,” he murmurs against my skin, as he reaches out and scoops a little more pie.
Though my senses are in chaos, I manage to stand stock-still.
“Good girl,” he whispers huskily. Although Saint’s moves are deliberate and his voice is contemplative and controlled, there’s a black fire in his eyes right now as he rubs the chocolate over my clit. He looks really turned on, but more than that, he looks determined to devour me. He smears more pie around my belly button. Bends down to tease his tongue around my navel. Then lower, breath scalding hot, lips soft and moving, and then . . . tongue. Leisurely licking my clit. He takes the flesh between his lips and gently sucks it into his mouth while his tongue teases little circles over me.
My knees buckle, but his arm is there, keeping me on my feet.
As he kisses his way up to my belly button, arousing me beyond measure, he lifts his free hand and brushes his thumb over my jawline. “Does it feel good, Rachel?”
I nod.
As he straightens to meet my gaze with so much passion in his, the fire in my stomach hikes up another notch, he pauses as if deciding where to taste me, touch me, next.
He trails a finger up between my legs. “This is where you want it. Isn’t it?”
I chew on the inside of my cheek and try not to squirm as he rubs a little. I’m so wet, the juices I hear slicking under his fingers are not pie or cream, it’s me.
He’s teasing, testing. He leans over and licks my mouth again. Sampling.
I groan. “Malcolm . . .”
He pinches a wet, swollen nipple.
As he tends to the other, I dip my fingers into the pie and before he knows it, I’m slowly drawing a two-finger line along his hard jaw, to the corner of his lips.
He looks breathtaking and before he can move away, I grab him by the back of the head and I bend and taste the flavor, bitter chocolate with minty peppermint, and he opens his mouth.
We both taste like dessert and heat and there’s so much hotness we should be put away wherever the nuclear weapons are locked up because we detonate each other so fast, so well, so completely, I don’t know if we’ll survive.
He lifts me by the ass and I straddle him as he carries us to one of the sofas. As we kiss, he’s groaning, past the point of being fully in control. I like him this way, so much. When he’s almost, almost unleashed on me.
I lick his chocolate-and-peppermint lips as he sets me down and gives me a sex-throbbing, mind-bending kiss, physical and animal, the sure thrusts of his tongue curling my toes and pricking my clit in the most delicious way.
“Want me inside you?” He stands up and yanks off his cashmere sweater, tossing it aside.
“Yes.”
“Hard? Deep?” He unbuttons and unzips, his jeans following.
“Saint!”
Oh god, this beautiful man, eyes narrowed, muscle jumping in his jaw as he tears open a foil packet and sheaths himself, then comes back to spread his big, delicious weight over me . . . this man undoes me. I undulate as our naked bodies connect, undone when his mouth and hands find parts of me he wants to taste.
He whispers a seductive murmur below my ear, kissing there. Dips his tongue in the hollow at the base of my throat. Bites gently into my neck.
I claw at his shoulders. He’s in no rush, but I tremble as he takes my legs by the knees and guides me around him—where he wants me. His stomach ripples; his biceps and triceps flex as he mounts me.
Then he grabs my hips and slides me down an inch or two, so that he pulls me down as he thrusts upward to enter me. His name leaves me on a gasping breath of pure gratitude.
Another thrust. We groan. Another. Closer. Closer. I rake my nails down his back. I feel complete, but needing. Full, but aching.
One nipple disappears into his mouth. One hard suck and I’m thrashing, biceps bunching around me as he thrusts.