Chapter Twenty #2
“Here?” Rafe asked, gripping her bottom so tightly she wondered if he might leave a mark; then she hoped he would, so she might carry a part of him with her everywhere.
“Or here?” His hands slid around her waist and up, up to cup her breasts.
He caught her nipples between his fingers and pinched them lightly, making her squirm and moan.
“Or…” His voice drifted off as he dragged his hands back down to her rear and nudged her stance wider with his knees.
Then, his fingers were parting her dripping sex from behind, stroking incrementally deeper between her swollen folds as she gasped.
“Perhaps, you mean here?” he purred, his face so close to her rear that she felt his hot breath on her skin.
Gooseflesh rippled across her body; her thighs trembled.
“Yes,” Victoria hissed. She arched back into his touch further, effectively presenting her rear to him and giving him more access to her sex.
Rafe moaned in appreciation. “This is what you wanted, isn’t it? You are already so wet for me.”
“Yes,” she moaned nonsensically. “Yes, yes, yes, yes, yes…” she repeated over and over as one, two, then three of his fingers invaded her, stretched her wide, and thrust with such tantalizing slowness that she thought she might expire from it.
He worked his hand in deliberate undulations, as measured as the tide lapping at the shore.
His wicked hand glided through her slickness and caressed her in just the way he knew would drive her mad.
He made a low moan of approval. “I think you are ready for more.”
“Hm?” Victoria was already half-lost in a haze of pleasure when he spun her around so her back was now pressed to the cool wood of the door.
Before she realized what he was doing, he’d hooked one of her knees over his shoulder and bent his head to kiss her mound.
Her cry of surprise quickly gave way to a gasp of delight when his tongue parted her there, and he began to taste her.
His tongue speared through her folds, lapped up her nectar, and flicked and swirled the sensitive, erect pearl of her sex.
A thousand colors exploded behind Victoria’s eyes.
Never in her wildest imaginings had she considered this was something he might do to her—that he might want to do to her—and now that she had this knowledge, she knew she could never go back to life as it had been.
This was awe-inspiring. This was rapture.
This was the glorious perfection of lovemaking, the all-consuming delight that people lived and died for. This was…bliss.
Every practiced pass of Rafe’s tongue plucked at her senses; it drove her higher until the air felt too thin to properly breathe.
She gulped it in great heaving gasps and fisted her fingers in Rafe’s dark curls, holding him in just the right spot to finally grant her the blinding release she’d been chasing.
She sobbed and trembled, tearing at his hair, clawing at his shoulders, pulling him closer with her heel digging into the back of his shoulder.
She wanted him inside of her so badly that the emptiness pained her.
Still, Rafe did not stop his ministrations with his wicked tongue.
No matter how she fought and writhed, he forced her to ride out every last quavering thread of her orgasm until she was limp.
Only then did he carry her to the bed, kiss her soundly so she could taste her own sweet musk on his lips and tongue, and then lay her in the center of the bed. He ripped the clothes from his body and joined her, his hot skin sliding smoothly against hers.
“You are so beautiful,” he whispered against her lips while his fingers gently plucked at her budded nipples.
She felt every touch all the way to her core.
He continued touching her as if memorizing her every curve and hollow while he told her how much he’d longed to be with her once more, and how hard she made him.
The evidence of that throbbed heavily against her thigh, making her breath catch in her throat.
Victoria began an exploration of her own.
She tested the breadth of his shoulders, the lean muscles of his arms, the perfection of his chest and stomach with its fine dusting of black hair, the mouthwatering globes of his rear, the hardness of his thighs, and, finally, the turgid column of his sex.
He seemed quite content to allow her to peruse him at her leisure with her greedy hands and mouth.
She learned the musky, salty tang of his sweat, how sensitive his earlobes were, that his nipples reacted much like hers did to stimuli, that his member was impressive in both length and girth, and she could hardly believe he had fit himself inside of her.
She bit her lip at the thought of doing it once again.
As if reading her mind, Rafe guided her to sit astride his hips. “Now, guide me inside of you,” he instructed gently. It wasn’t an order; she knew she could decline…but she’d be damned before she stopped.
Grasping his length, she fed the thick head inside of her body and slowly, carefully, lowered herself onto him.
The position was so different from what they’d tried before.
He felt larger, and it took her several thudding heartbeats to acclimate.
Once she did, however, there was no stopping either of them.
What began as tentative lifting and dropping of her hips quickly devolved into frantic rocking as he thrust up into her.
Their bodies worked in unison to stoke the flames of their passion.
Each one of his grunts and groans drove her higher as her senses were nearly overwhelmed by everything Rafe was.
She was swimming in sensations, so only a flick of his thumb on the pearl of her sex sent her tumbling into another release.
As she climaxed, Rafe’s hands sank into her hips, holding her still as he pounded up into her with relentless force.
He possessed her, claimed her, made her his own, until, with a guttural roar, he filled her with his seed.
Victoria collapsed onto Rafe’s sweaty, heaving chest, and all she could hear was the deep pounding of his racing heart.
As they dozed, Rafe realized he couldn’t have removed himself from that cocoon of contentment had he wanted to.