The Platinum Collection. Maisey Yates
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with acute sensation. The kiss fast became more fiercely demanding, driving her into a wild response. The lust that had been simmering since the first moment of meeting flared into passionate need.
Her hands buried themselves in his hair, fingers raking through the thickness of it, grasping his head possessively. His hands clutched the cheeks of her bottom, scooping her hard against him, pressing her so close his erection furrowed her stomach, exciting her further with his strong arousal. Her whole body started aching for him. Her thighs quivered with the fierce desire to feel him inside her, and the rush of hot wetness between them begged for instant satisfaction.
The gloriously devouring mouth suddenly abandoned hers, breaking away to snatch air in ragged gasps. ‘Lucy...’ It was a groan of wanting.
‘Yes... Yes...let’s do it.’ The response spilled straight off her tongue.
In a spurt of frenetic energy she pushed herself out of his embrace to lead him into her bedroom. ‘Come on,’ she urged, untying the belt of her dress, taking off the light garment and tossing it onto the lounge as she passed, turning as she reached the bedroom door, looking back to see how he was responding to her wanton invitation.
He’d spun around and was facing her, but seemed stunned into immobility, an incredulous look in the eyes that were raking her from head to toe. His glittery silver gaze lingered on the white lace panties and bra long enough to make the wetness hotter and turn her nipples into bullets.
‘You do want me?’ she asked provocatively, wondering if he was more used to leading the action than having a woman doing it.
‘Oh, yes! Madly!’
The vehement reply shot a bolt of elation into a gurgle of laughter.
He tore off his shirt and hurled it on top of her discarded dress. He did have hair on his chest—a nest of black curls across the centre of it, arrowing down to where his hands were unfastening his shorts. Fascinated, she watched as he pulled them down and stepped out of his remaining clothes. More black curls framed his manhood, which was magnificently primed for action.
Her insides quaked with anticipation. Nevertheless, she never forgot caution, and didn’t this time, either. The urge to step back and touch him was irresistible. She took him in her hand, fingers gently stroking the silky skin of his strong shaft as she lifted her gaze to his, appealing for understanding. ‘I need you to wear a condom, Michael.’
‘Right!’ he said, sucking in air and shaking his head as though trying to clear it, while reaching for his shorts again and extracting a packet, holding it up for her to see. ‘I did come prepared.’ He raised a quizzical eyebrow. ‘You’re not on the Pill?’
She slid her other hand up his chest, spreading her fingers into the black curls. ‘Yes, I am, but that’s not protection from everything.’ Her eyes flashed him a look of troubled uncertainty. ‘I don’t know who you’ve been with before me, Michael.’
He frowned. ‘I assure you I’m clean.’
‘I want you to be, but I won’t risk my health,’ she pleaded.
His mouth twisted into a rueful grimace. ‘Fair enough!’ He lifted a hand to her cheek, a sympathetic look in his eyes as he stroked where she usually dimpled. ‘You’ve been with a frog who lied to you?’
She grinned at his pick-up on frogs. ‘No. I just believe in being careful.’
He grinned back. ‘Okay. I’ll see a doctor tomorrow. Get a clearance. Can we do without condoms then?’
She flung her arms around his neck, her eyes dancing with relief and pleasure as she rubbed her body invitingly against his. ‘You’re looking ahead to more of me?’
‘Much more,’ he assured her in his deep-throated voice.
She lifted herself up on tiptoes and kissed him, deliriously happy that he had so readily accepted her conditions, and he didn’t see her as a one-night stand.
He instantly took the initiative from her, claiming her mouth with wildly erotic passion, clamping her body to his, driving up the urgency of the desire churning through both of them. He broke the raging intimacy of their kissing long enough to command action. ‘Put your feet on top of mine, Lucy.’
She did and he walked her backwards, keeping her locked to him, the movement making her acutely aware of the hard muscular tension in his thighs, in his entire body. Her breasts were brushing the broad hot wall of his chest, tingling with excitement. Her skin felt electric, buzzing with sensory overload. She couldn’t wait to be completely naked, too, feeling all of his maleness everywhere.
As soon as he’d turned into her bedroom, one of his hands slid to her bra clip and unfastened it. Impatient for all barriers to be gone, she unwound her arms from his neck and stepped off his feet, quickly pushing the straps from her shoulders, flinging the bra away, grabbing the top of her lace panties and pulling them down enough to lift her legs out of them.
Michael was wasting no time, either, tearing open the packet of condoms, sheathing himself. She straightened up and for one sizzling moment they looked at each other, revelling in the sight of their sexuality completely open to view. He was perfect, Lucy thought, absolutely perfect, and the glittering desire in his eyes told her she was just as excitingly perfect to him.
He startled her by suddenly swooping and lifting her off her feet, crushing her to his chest. It was a smallish room. The bed was close by, a couple steps away.
‘You bring out the caveman in me,’ he said gruffly.
She laughed, bubbling over with elation at the possessiveness of his action. When he carried her onto the bed, the same streak of possessiveness swept through her as she wound her legs around his hips in aggressive ownership.
Take me, take me. The words were pounding through her mind, the fierce need to take him thrumming through her whole body. She was open to him, dying for him, and he didn’t keep her waiting, plunging inside her so fast she gasped at the glorious sensation of the aching emptiness being totally filled, powerfully filled.
She clutched him to her, wanting to hold him there, wanting to hold on to this awesome moment, live her awareness of it to the full. ‘Michael...’ She breathed his name—the man who lived this moment with her.
‘Open your eyes, Lucy,’ he commanded.
She hadn’t realised she’d closed them, keeping the high mountain of feeling to herself. But yes, she wanted to share it with him, have him share what he was feeling with her. She opened her eyes wide and caught the fierce intensity in his—the need to know, the desire to take all that she was.
‘Keep them open.’
She did, watching him watch her as he began a rhythm of retreat and thrust that slowly escalated to a faster and faster beat, on and on until she was arching, bucking, writhing with the pleasure of it, the excitement, the exquisite tension, building, building to a crescendo of almost agony, teetering on the unbearable. She cried out, her eyes wildly demanding release, her hands clawing his back, her feet goading him on in desperate need, her heart seemingly on the point of bursting.
‘Yes...’ The word hissed from between his teeth and his eyes blazed with sheer animal triumph as he drove himself into her as deeply as he could, and the agony shattered, melting away on wave after wave of ecstasy emanating from the spasms that convulsed around him.
‘Yes...’ she echoed, with a moan of sweet pleasure, feeling him pulsating, too, his body shuddering in his own explosive release, his chest heaving for breath, and when he collapsed on top of her, it seemed his heart was drumming in sync with hers, a testament to their utter togetherness.
Long may it last, Lucy fiercely willed.
She’d never had a man like Michael Finn in her life.
She wanted what they had right now to go on and on forever.
Of course it wouldn’t...couldn’t.
Loopy Lucy—which was what the