A Dream Christmas. Кэрол Мортимер
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in limbo. Still felt emotionally attached to the man she’d planned on spending the rest of her life with, while her body was firmly on team Luc.
He put his hand on her thigh and gripped it tight, pulling her leg up over his hip, blunt fingertips digging into her skin. She loved that. Loved how he touched her with such intent, with such desperation. There was no hesitation. There was nothing but pure, raw need.
A need that echoed inside her.
He leaned into her, pressing her back more firmly before reaching down, taking hold of both of her legs and lifting her, helping her wrap her legs around his waist before pulling them both away from the wall.
He didn’t break the kiss as he carried her into his bedroom and deposited her on the bed. Then he pulled away, his hands gripping the bottom of his shirt before he wrenched it over his head, revealing well-defined muscles. Just the right amount of black hair dusted over his dark skin.
“Oh, my,” she said, her heart kicking into high gear as his hands went to the snap on his jeans. Really, she should probably be taking her clothes off, too. But kissing was where her experience ended and she knew for a fact that wasn’t the case for Luc. It made her feel fluttery. And now, for the first time, she felt really truly nervous.
A half smile curved his lips. “Like what you see?” he asked, lowering the zipper on his pants and pushing them, and his underwear down his lean hips.
Her mouth dried, making it impossible for her to swallow. Nearly impossible for her to speak.
“Uh … yes,” she said, taking a visual tour of his body. Broad chest, slim waist and … and the most male part of him. Thick and very aroused.
She bit her lip, trying to fight against the rising tide of virginal panic.
“You don’t sound convinced,” he said.
“Maybe you should kiss me again,” she said. “Because I do less thinking and more feeling when you do that, which I think is probably good.”
He smiled and put his knee down on the bed, leaning over and claiming her lips again. And just like that, the nerves evaporated. Like water hitting up against a wildfire. There was no way they could win, not when his touch burned everything away. Everything but this.
He tugged her shirt up over her head, leaving her in nothing more than her black bra and those leggings she’d put on earlier, which now didn’t seem quite so appropriate. Though, not any worse than the black cotton panties that were beneath. Nothing about her ensemble said vamp, that was for sure.
“I’m not really, uh …” He pushed her pants down her legs and pulled them off, leaving her in her unsexy undergarments. “There is no lace here,” she said. “Sorry. I wasn’t exactly expecting … this.”
“You don’t need lace,” he said, his voice rough, his finger tracing the tender skin just beneath the cup of her bra. “You only need to be you.”
That made her want to cry, and she wasn’t sure why. Except maybe that just being her had never really felt as if it were enough. She’d always felt the need to bring extra. To go above and beyond and make herself valuable to the people in her life. But he seemed fine with just Amelia. In plain black underwear.
Heck, he seemed more than fine.
His dark eyes glittered as he flicked the catch on her bra open, letting it fall down her arms and onto the bed, exposing her breasts to him. “Perfection,” he said, lowering his head and flicking his tongue over her nipple, his breath cool on her wet skin when he pulled away. “Absolute perfection.”
Pleasure zipped down to her core, her internal muscles tightening. Oh, she wasn’t going to survive this. After twenty-five years of celibacy this was surely going to kill her. The dam that had held back all of her passion, all of her desire, for so long was going to burst and drown them both.
He shifted, pressing his lips to the valley between her breasts, then to her stomach, just above her belly button, continuing on down below it. He moved his hands down her thighs, sliding them inward and parting her legs for him.
She looked at him, watched him watch her with utter and complete concentration, tracing the delicate skin of her inner thigh with the tip of his finger, around the border of black cotton that hid her most private place from view.
“I feel like this is the moment I’ve been waiting for since the day we met,” he said. “And for some reason, I didn’t realize it until now.”
She sucked in a shaky breath as he gripped the sides of her panties and tugged them down, pulling them off and throwing them to the floor.
They were naked. Together. She’d never been naked with a man before. She was a lot less embarrassed than she’d imagined. Because it felt natural. It felt right. She never would have thought that he was the one it would feel like this with. And how could she? She’d always imagined this moment with someone else. But she could see that it wouldn’t have been right. Because it wouldn’t have been this, it wouldn’t have been Luc.
He leaned in and kissed her thigh, following the path he’d moved his finger over a moment ago. And her breathing stopped. Her brain stopped. Everything in her paused, waiting to see what he would do. Hoping he would do what she thought he might, and kind of hoping he wouldn’t because it seemed like such an intimate thing.
But then he did, his tongue sliding over her, then dipping inside her before tracing back. She put her hands on his head, holding him to her, trying to keep back the moan that was rising in her throat. But when he added his finger, she stopped trying.
She gasped, any thoughts of embarrassment or nerves gone now. Nothing mattered but this. But being wanted by him. But having him enjoy her body like this.
He continued to pleasure her with his mouth, pushing her higher, further than she’d ever thought possible, a knot of tension building in her stomach, getting tighter and tighter, until she thought it might break her. Until she thought there was no way she’d be able to survive.
He pushed another finger inside her, moved in time with his tongue, and it all broke free. The dam burst, the flood of pleasure far more overwhelming than she could have imagined, far more satisfying. Far more devastating.
He moved then, reaching for the nightstand drawer, and the box of protection that was inside. He tore it open, his hands shaking. For her. He was still hard, the evidence that he’d enjoyed what he’d done to her openly displayed.
She watched him roll the condom over his length before he came back to her, kissing her lips as he moved into position, the head of him testing the entrance to her body.
It suddenly occurred to her, through her post-orgasmic haze, that this was going to hurt. But it was too late for her to brace herself. He entered her fully, a sharp, hot pain ripping through her as he did.
She whimpered, putting her fist over her mouth and trying to stifle the sound. He didn’t seem to realize the sound was from pain, though, and that was actually fine with her.
He pulled back before thrusting in again, and this time, it didn’t hurt quite so much. And each time he came back to her, it hurt less, until eventually, it felt good again. Until tension started building, deep in her again, the promise of another release.
She gripped his shoulders, then moved her hands down over his back, feeling the play of muscles as he moved in her, reveling in the closeness.
He slid his hand beneath her butt and cupped her, pulling her up tightly against him, the slight readjustment bringing all the right things into contact with each other. Every thrust, every movement taking her closer to the edge.
She wrapped her legs around his hips, arching against him, guided by his firm hold on her bottom.
Then he kissed her, hard, deep. And took her straight over the edge. She clung to him, because if she didn’t she was sure she was going to lose touch with the bed. Hell, with the earth.
He pulled his mouth from hers and buried his face