Manwhore

“No . . .” I urge his shirt out of the waistband of his slacks. “I want you to.”

I push the fabric up his chest and he jerks it over his head with a tug. His hair ends up tousled and glorious as he discards it, giving him a bed-mussed look that makes him even more gorgeous in my eyes because he looks approachable. Powerful but human. So human I can feel his body heat. Chasing my breath as I reach out and caress the hard planes of his pectorals and chest, suck his nipple. I smooth my fingers up his biceps.

The palms of his hands are holding my face upward, to his kiss. I give up my mouth with no protest, letting him move it at will.

His kiss makes me feel like my blood is gasoline, running through my veins. And Saint’s lips are the fire, lighting me up.

I let him caress me, his tongue lightly stroking my own, and then he’s heatedly kissing my throat, the peaks of my breasts. My breasts are heaving, and I can’t believe how much I hurt between my legs.

He places a kiss right between my breasts, then teases the tip of one nipple over my top. I feel the lick arouse me. Shivering, I don’t move a muscle, so he doesn’t stop.

He makes his way back to my lips. I open my mouth immediately and wind my arms around his neck. I’m kissing him back with abandon, holding nothing back while his hands steal under my top.

Holding me close, he backs toward the bed and drops down, pulling me over. Quickly he shifts us around so that he’s on top. He props himself up on his elbows at my side and looks down at me. Beautiful. I look up at him, his lids low and his eyes dark with desire. I lift my head and twine my tongue with his, my tongue circling, pressing, tasting. He hunches over me and tries not to crush me but gets close, so deliciously close. He feels so good, and tastes like heaven. I reach out and slide my fingers along his abs, needing to touch him.

His cock was made for sucking and for fucking, his cock, and I feel its hard length with my fingers. Then his hand is easing between my legs and teasing me with his fingers, and he’s asking me, “Do you want it?”

Hips rolling to his touch, I gasp, “Yes.”

He nibbles my lips slowly, taking his time. “You smell good,” he whispers in my ear. He wants me, lust humming between us. I smell like a woman who’s ready to be taken, my perfume and shampoo and soap mingled with the scent of Saint driving me crazy.

I’m gasping for air: every breath smells of him, every part of me remembering how he feels when he’s in me. In the moment now, I slip my hands into his hair and open my legs so I can feel him right where I need him most. He lifts me against him by the ass and takes my mouth in no hurry, and I realize he’s going to take his time—he’s going to take all night, till he’s done with me. When I realize I will be sexually tortured some more, I moan in aching misery.

He tilts my head back so that we make eye contact. He cradles the back of my skull while his free hand curls around my neck and he caresses my pulse point with his thumb. “What do you want, Rachel?” he whispers quietly. “Tell me how you want it. Do you want it now?”

Watching me, he slides his hand along my throat, my collarbone, flicks open my bra, and easily discards it. “You’re so responsive when I touch you, it pushes me over the edge to watch you fall apart.” He reaches to my waistband and flicks open my skirt; then he eases it down my legs. He is in no apparent hurry, but I am. I’m in such a hurry to see him naked that I kick off my skirt and reach out like a frantic nymphomaniac, my fingers trembling as I unzip his slacks.

“Get naked, get naked, Saint,” I beg on a cotton-like breath.

When his super-warm, smooth skin connects with mine, I’m in heaven and in purgatory, running my hands down his back, gripping his hard ass to pull him above me. He trails his tongue, hot and wet, across my nipple. I moan. His smell enthralls me, and the hint of his taste lingers on my lips. If that isn’t the most delicious form of torture, I don’t know what is.

He ducks his head and slides his tongue over my other nipple, and I shudder and part my legs when he teases two fingers across my folds, and I’m saying, “Please.” He teases the strong tip of his middle finger inside but pulls it out immediately. Fierce desire pools between my thighs as I lift my hips and, aching, try to follow his thumb’s retreat. He keeps me there, where he wants me. Beneath him, helpless and quivering. He nips my lower lip, pulling it away from the top. Achingly gently.

I mew softly and he shifts above me so that his hard body is aligned with mine. God help me, he owns me. “Sin . . . Sin . . .” My thoughts scatter as he dips his tongue sinuously into my ear. This man will turn the entire world into a sinner.

He looks at my reddened nipples. I groan when he sweeps down to lave and taste them as he caresses my sex with smooth, knowing fingers. First brushing on the outside. His middle finger across the length. The pad of his thumb, in little circles; then his thumb rubs me and his middle finger eases inside me and I’m undone.

I pull his face down to me, trembling with desire as I kiss him, angling my head and sucking his tongue hard. He groans when I let him slide up and down between my legs. I’m so hungry that if he enters me, I’m going to get there before he does. But he’s savoring what he’s doing to me, and he seems to want to make it last. The head of his cock massages the outside of my sex.

He’s beautiful and untamed and powerful and I want him to come inside me. But I know it would be reckless, and so I pant and watch him roll on a condom and look at me, his chest jerking with his deep breaths.

We hold gazes as I part my legs and he rubs against me again. He spreads out over me again. In one swift move, he curls one of my legs around his hip, opening me, and he presses in. I groan and sink my nails into his muscles. He watches my face as he starts to penetrate me. His body shudders, and my breath leaves me when he draws out his cock and then puts it inside me, all wet from me, and so hard. I can’t think or speak, I just take him, take his mouth, take the thrill of the way his eyes watch me. My every undulation, my every gasp, every whimper of helpless abandon.

He reaches between us and rubs the pad of his thumb just a bit over my clit, and he watches, breathing hard, with the merest tiny circular rub of his thumb while he presses his cock in as deep as he wants, ready to enjoy the tightening and loosening ripples in my body.

An orgasm. Fierce and wild. It sweeps through me like a wildfire, no corner of my body untouched. Saint pins my hips down and rides me through it, keeping my orgasm going with the most delicious thrusts of my life as I twist around, my mouth seeking his. He gives me a crushing kiss, and I can feel when he reaches that point, that magical point, because the energy seems to coil in his body, which grows tauter and tauter with each thrust.