Holding Strong. Lori Foster
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Ruthlessly, she quashed those thoughts.
She was with Denver—nothing bad in that. He was unlike any man she’d ever known, definitely better than most. When it came to ugly experiences, there was no comparison.
Keeping his focus on her body, he held her hand to steady her as she stepped free of the underwear. Brushing them aside with the rest of their discarded clothes, Denver said, “Jesus, Cherry, you have a smokin’ body.” He touched his fingertips down her belly to her sex. “I’m dying to taste you.”
With no more warning than that, he cupped her backside, pulled her forward, and pressed his face to her.
Gasping, Cherry sank her fingers into his hair and held on.
Apparently done waiting, his hands—easily twice the size of her own—roamed over her body while he treated her to soft, devouring kisses that forced her to lock her knees and use the wall for support.
Putting his palms to the inside of each thigh, he urged her to widen her stance. Once he had her arranged to his liking, he stroked two fingers of one hand into her, and used two fingers of his other hand to part her.
Another throaty growl of appreciation, and he closed his mouth over her throbbing clitoris, suckling softly while rasping with his tongue.
Oh God, oh God, oh God... His hair felt cool brushing her thighs, his fingers working inside her, pressing, and he kept making those low sounds of hunger...and appreciation.
Thunder shook the floor beneath them. Wind lashed the rain against the window. The strobe effect of the lightning increased to an almost constant flash.
Locking her hands in his hair, she cried out as he drove her higher, as pleasure drew her tighter. Like a powder keg with a short fuse, she surprised herself by exploding so quickly. Denver supported her easily, and good thing because she went boneless, her tripping heart leaving her breathless and far too weak.
DENVER SCOOPED UP her lax body and carried her to the bed, putting her on her back and then taking a step away so he could look at her as he took off his shoes and socks, pushed down his jeans and removed his boxers. The storm raged on, matching his turbulent lust.
How she’d come, the sounds she’d made in her pleasure and the taste of her, left him primed. He’d always known they’d be scorching together; the easy way he’d just gotten her off proved it.
Now he wanted more. A lot more.
Eyes still closed, she half turned, drawing one knee up to help hide her sex while crossing her arms over her chest.
That pose just fired his blood more. She looked equal parts timid and boldly sexual.
She had the most amazing breasts, big and soft and real, trembling with her heavy, broken breaths. In her pale throat he could see her pulse still tripping.
“Let me see you.” Gently, he clasped her wrists and moved her arms to her sides. “You don’t ever need to hide from me.”
Her nipples were softer now that she’d come, her hair more tangled. She wasn’t as slim as most of the women who hung out at the rec center.
She was better.
Rounder in the right places and so damn sexy he knew it was going to be a struggle to hold back. Thinking that, he got the condom from his wallet, tossed his wallet on the nightstand and opened the rubber.
Cherry never moved.
Soaking up the sight of her, he smiled. “Girl, you didn’t fall asleep, did you?”
She shook her head, sucked in air, and whispered, “No.”
“Then how about you open those pretty eyes and look at me?”
She did, her gaze going straight to his dick. Eyes widening, she bit her lip and put a hand over her heart.
For some reason, that reaction almost made him laugh. “You’re overreacting, honey.” Coming down next to her, he promised gruffly, “I’m going to wear you out—and you’re going to love it.”
When he started to kiss her, she straight-armed him. “Can I ask you something first?”
Well, hell. He hadn’t expected all this reserve from her. Most women were excited by the size of his package.
But from the get-go, he’d known Cherry wasn’t like most women.
He smoothed back her hair, kissed her forehead. “Ask away.” Not like he had anything else to do.
She looked from his eyes to his chest, his shoulders. Letting out a sigh, she gently pawed him, as if testing his strength. “You are so hard.”
If she’d reach a little lower he could show her just how hard. “Comes with the territory.”
“Being a fighter?”
He lifted a shoulder. “Nonstop training.”
“Will you stay the night with me?”
After throwing that out there, she defiantly met his gaze—and bit her lip again.
“Yeah.” He bent to her mouth to do a little biting of his own. When she groaned, he tangled his hand in her messy hair to keep her still. In so many ways he wanted to crush her to him and work off the raging lust until he could get her out of his system.
Then again, he hated the idea of not wanting her.
He kissed from her mouth to her downy cheek, her warm neck, her silky shoulder, and down to one plump nipple. “I’m not going anywhere unless you boot me out.”
Her arms came around him. “Never.” And now it was her kissing him and he felt scorched not just by her sexual need, but her unguarded caring.
She seemed to think he didn’t like her, that he didn’t want her, and still she left herself open. It made him feel ultraprotective—and even more possessive.
Her heated skin repeatedly drew his hands, his mouth. Over and over he breathed in her scent until it filled his lungs, his head and his heart. He’d never known a woman who smelled so good, her hair, her skin, the fragrant, moist heat between her thighs.
She’d tasted good, too, and thinking that, he worked his way down her body again.
“Denver,” she moaned in protest. “No.”
“Yes.” Her belly sucked in as he licked her skin, and she squirmed when he teased over her hipbone.
Trying to draw him back up to her, she tunneled her fingers into his hair, but it didn’t slow him down. She’d be more sensitive now, every touch and lick more acute, and they both knew it.
It left her trembling, and him determined.
As soon as he parted her soft thighs, she dropped to her back again, then arched up as he explored her with fingers and tongue.
“I can’t,” she moaned.
He took a lot of satisfaction in telling her, “You already are.”
Refusing to be rushed, Denver took his time, and even after she came again, this time with high, weak, broken cries, he didn’t move over her. He’d been wanting her long enough that savoring her was more his speed.
He got her right to the edge a third time, loving the way she quivered all over, her hoarse moans and dewy skin. With two fingers pressed deep in her, he moved up her body to kiss her parted lips. Damp hair clung to her temples and her lungs labored.
“God,” she rasped, sliding one leg up and over his. “No more.”
“I’m nowhere near done,” he told her.
Her hand clenched in his hair, drawing him back so she could see his face. “Then please, at least stop playing.”