The Watson Brothers. Lori Foster
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exactly an expert at stripping with an audience.
When she finally got them free, she dropped the panties on the floor with the rest of her clothes and started to sit down to take off her sandals.
Sam had other ideas. “I like the look.” His voice was gruff, raw. “Leave them on.”
She peeked at him, but he stared at her belly, or more specifically, below her belly. She nearly jumped out of her skin when he reached out and stroked his fingers through her pubic hair.
“Part your legs a little.”
This test of his was a killer. If he’d only kiss her again, hold her…but he wasn’t going to. She knew he wanted her to shy away, to run home scared. To prove she wasn’t a mature, experienced woman.
The experience part…well, hopefully he’d forgive her for that. But she was a woman, his woman, if he’d only stop being so pigheaded. She forced her chin up and set one foot several inches from the other.
“You’re not as blond here,” he said while still fingering her curls. “But then your brows and lashes are a few shades darker too. It’s pretty.”
Never in her twenty-four years had she expected such a conversation to take place. He was complimenting her on her…well, on something very private. This wasn’t at all as she’d assumed lovemaking would be. She thought there’d be a lot of reciprocal touching, breathless loss of control, and a simultaneous agreement to move forward in intimacy.
At the same time, being here with him like this was so wildly exciting, she knew she was wet and she feared he’d know it too in just a moment.
He stepped away from her. “Turn around.”
Her mind went blank. What in the world did he have planned now? Breath rushed in and out of her lungs. Feeling wooden and clumsy in the stupid shoes, she forced herself to move. When her back was to him, he said, “There. I want to look at you.”
She tried to stand straight and tall, but more than anything she just wanted to crawl into the bed under the covers and then convince Sam to crawl under them with her.
The touch of his breath on her nape raised her awareness another notch.
“I love your ass,” he whispered, and then both his hands covered her there, squeezing and cuddling. Her eyelids grew heavier and heavier until her eyes closed. Without thinking, she reached back for him. Her fingertips just grazed his fly long enough for her to feel the straining power of his erection.
“No.” He caught her hands. “No touching from you.” He placed her hands alongside her thighs.
“I want to touch you,” she said. “The same way you’re touching me.”
“Yeah? Like this?” His hands came around her and he caught her nipples in his fingertips.
Her back arched. “Sam…”
“You like that, don’t you?” He tugged, plucked, and rolled. He opened his palms and grazed them over her, then covered her breasts, gently holding them while he kissed her shoulder, her nape. Every damp warm touch of his mouth brought her temperature up another degree.
“Answer me, Ariel.”
“I like it, but…I’d like it more if I could touch you, too.”
He laughed, the sound masculine and satisfied. “I just bet you would. But then you’d be breaking the rules and we can’t have that.”
He went back to tormenting her nipples and he took so long she wasn’t sure she could stand it. Her every nerve ending was alive, sizzling. Stars danced in front of her closed eyes, her breasts ached and felt heavy, and between her legs she throbbed and burned.
And still he just played with her breasts and kissed her shoulders and back and neck.
In desperation, she whispered, “Sam, please.” She honestly didn’t know how much more she could take. An imminent explosion skirted through her, almost there, but not quite. Her hips moved, embarrassing her, shaming her but she couldn’t seem to hold still.
“All right,” he whispered. But he didn’t turn her to him. Instead, those tantalizing hands coasted down her ribs, over her belly, and between her legs. “Open them more.”
Trying but unable to get her legs to cooperate, she whimpered.
He helped her, putting one large foot between hers and nudging them open. “More. I want to be able to get to you.”
Oh God.
“How I teased your nipples? I’ll do that here, too.” His fingertips brushed against her clitoris and she cried out at the electrifying sensation—then felt his smile press to her shoulder. “Yeah, right there,” he said in deep triumph. “It’ll make you crazy, Ariel, and if we’re both lucky, you’ll come for me. I want you to, you know.”
Horrified by the thought of standing and performing to his demands, she stiffened. Surely he didn’t expect her to do such a thing with him detached, manipulating her but uninvolved?
“Don’t stiffen up on me.” Gently, using only his fingertips, he opened her. “We’ll get to the bed, I promise. No way in hell will this be it. Unless you tell me to stop.” Carefully, holding her open with one hand, he circled her clitoris again. She felt his fingers, his rough, warm fingers, moving over her and she couldn’t seem to get enough oxygen into her starved lungs. For one brief instant, she thought she might actually faint.
“Breathe, Ariel.” He held still, waiting, leaning over her shoulder to watch her face. She did, gulping air and shaking from head to toe. “You’re close, aren’t you, baby? I wonder if you can do this standing up. Some women can’t you know. That tidal wave of melting pleasure washes over you and your legs go weak and…” He shrugged. “I’ll hold you, though. Don’t worry.”
Staring straight ahead at the window opposite his bed, Ariel bit her lip, fighting the urge to plead with him again.
“You’ll tell me if I hurt you.”
“Yes.”
He opened his mouth on her neck, giving her a soft love bite—and pushed his middle finger into her.
Her head fell back, a deep, shuddering groan escaping her. He gave an answering growl of pleasure and pressed deeper and it was the most amazing thing, a little embarrassing, very arousing. Her hips moved again and this time she didn’t care.
“You’re small. And hot. And you feel so damn good.”
Ariel was well beyond words. She hung in his arms, her legs open, all her attention on his hands and how he touched her and the expanding pleasure that would ebb and then grow stronger as it rolled through her.
With his finger pressed deep inside her, he found her clitoris with his thumb and he began an incredible slick friction that sent her right over the edge. She cried out, stunned at what she felt, at her total loss of control. She couldn’t be quiet, couldn’t hold still.
True to his word, Sam wrapped one muscled arm around her waist and held her upright while he continued the press and retreat of his fingers, kept the pleasure flowing until indeed, her legs gave out and she slumped into him, boneless, exhausted, replete.
His arm stayed locked around her while he lifted the other hand. Ariel roused herself enough to turn her head and look at him. She saw his eyes close, saw him suck his fingers into his mouth, taking her taste, her wetness.
Their eyes met. Looking far too serious, he pulled his fingers out and touched them to her lips. She shuddered, but was too spent to pull away.
Gently, Sam lowered her to the bed on her stomach, then stretched out beside her. He stroked her head, found the few pins that still held her hair and pulled them out to flick them across the room. With an open hand, he combed out the curls, spreading them over the pillow.
“Sam?”
“Mmm?”