Chapter 5 #3
It trickled in, filling his mouth, and then she kissed him, tasting it and chasing any droplets that escaped down his chin, to his torso.
Only a stupid shirt was concealing his chest and she ached to touch and taste him.
She pulled at it fiercely with an animalism that made him laugh.
The buttons popped and still she moved her hips, stirring his desire and evoking a type of insanity in his gut.
“I’m sorry,” she murmured, dropping her mouth to lash one of his hair-roughened nipples with her tongue. He growled and fisted her hair at its nape, his body on the brink of a rapturous explosion if she didn’t slow down. But Saphire knew exactly what Thad liked by then.
She lifted her mouth and flicked the pulse point at the base of his neck and then moved her mouth higher, to his earlobe.
While she sucked it between her teeth she let one hand tease his nipple and all the while she rocked back and forth, stroking him and feeling him massage her most sensitive nerve-endings.
Another orgasm was building for Saphire. But she wanted him to ride with her; she wanted them to tip over the edge together. “I want you to … I want us to… I want to feel you …”
He nodded, understanding completely. He bucked forward, tipping her onto her side without breaking their connection, and then he moved inside of her.
Desperation was rampant. He ripped at her shirt, just as she had done, until the buttons popped.
He groaned when the belt stayed put, as he had to unfasten it before he could do what he wanted to do.
Finally though, she lay naked beneath him and a blanket of stars on the deck of his boat.
“That’s two of your shirts we’ve just ruined,” she said breathlessly.
He scooped the champagne from where she’d placed the flute and dribbled it over her chest. “I have more,” he promised, as she bucked hard towards him. The sensation of ice-cold liquid over her boiling hot body was too much to bear.
“Champagne or shirts?” She groaned, writhing against the picnic blanket as she almost felt that she might pass out.
“Both.” He dropped his mouth to her chest and sucked some of the liquid from her. She shuddered as he drove into her fast, reminding her (as if she needed it) that his body was her master. “Close your eyes,” he said throatily. She did as he said without hesitation.
“Bloody hell!” She swore, when she felt something boiling hot trickling between her breasts. But the pain almost immediately gave way to pleasure, and she felt the muscles of her core squeeze him more tightly. “What was that?”
His black eyes were hooded as they studied her. “Wax,” he ran a finger down her middle, spreading the still-soft material further. “If I could I would cast your whole body so that I could remember every tiny piece of you.”
It was too erotic. She dug her fingers into his shoulders and squeezed her eyes.
“Do you like it?” He murmured, dropping his mouth to her stomach and tasting more champagne from her soft skin.
She nodded. “A lot.”
He rewarded her by bucking further forward, deep and hard. She cried out and lifted her legs to allow him greater access. God, he would never tire of this. He would certainly never feel that he was finished with her.
He captured one of her feet and brought it to his mouth. He sucked her toe; it tasted like the ocean. It made him smile.
“Saphire, you are a dream,” he said seriously. “Have I gone mad? Are you my fantasy? Have I made you from my dreams?”
She laughed and shook her head at the same time. “Stop,” she begged. “Stop being so wonderful.” She didn’t deserve it. “But don’t stop this.” She reached between her legs and caught what she could of his arousal. “Please don’t ever stop this.”
“A week,” he reminded her as though the words weren’t a kind of death sentence.
He pushed deeper so that, no longer able to find purchase on his body, she had to drop her hands to her side.
He reached for the candle and this time, he dropped the smallest amount over her nipple.
She moaned as the sensation seemed to deepen everything else he was doing to her body.
“It’s almost too much.” The words were torn from her soul; she was tormented.
“Tell me if it is,” he murmured.
“No,” she assured him. “I want more.” And she pushed herself up, thrusting her other nipple closer towards him.
He laughed softly. “You’re greedy.”
She nodded. “Please.”
He dropped more wax over her breasts, this time, running a line from her nipple across the valley to the next pink peak. She was hyperventilating, her cheeks glowing, her eyes shimmering, and her whole body covered in goosebumps.
As the wax set, he transferred his focus to the nipple with the hardest wax and flicked it with his forefinger. She startled, then laughed a little shakily. “It’s too good.”
“No such thing,” he promised, trickling champagne over the wax, so that the temperature contrast set her nerves on edge. And so quietly that later she would doubt he’d even whispered the perfect words, he said, Stay and I’ll show you.
Then, he moved into her, fast, slow, gently and hard. He pushed her until her cries filled the empty ocean and together, they reached for a dramatic crescendo. And, as if their minds had joined together, they shared the same thought at the same time.
How can I walk away from this?