Her hands slid up his chest, around his neck. Her head fell against his arm and she let the sensations inside her surge over her.
Lips and tongues met and meshed. Liquid fire raced through her veins, pounded into her sex. Her cl*t was throbbing with such aching need that she found herself pressing into him desperately, rubbing herself against the hard ridge of his c**k as his hands tightened on her hips, pulling her closer.
Mewling cries of need were barely forced back. Many slipped free. She was a pleading mess of sensations that she had no idea how to handle.
She fought to breathe and couldn’t, and didn’t care. She tried to lift closer, to press her ni**les tighter into the warmth of his chest, to grind her cl*t harder against his erection. She didn’t know if she could stand the rapidly whirling sensations tearing through her now. They were unlike anything she had ever known; even that distant memory of flames burning her from the inside out didn’t compare to this.
“Micah.” She tore her lips from his, only to have his hand move to the side of her neck once more to hold her still. His lips were back on hers, his kiss as hungry and desperate as the sensual needs pouring through her body.
“Easy,” he groaned, finally tearing his lips from hers, his big body tense and suddenly harder than ever before. “Hell, Risa, you make a man lose his head.”
She did?
Her eyes opened, and for a second she almost believed him. His face was flushed from lust, his eyes gleaming back at her in hunger.
He wanted her. He couldn’t fake this. This wasn’t anger or depravity. It was simple hunger, for her.
Her hands fumbled at his shoulders before pushing beneath the edge of his jacket and pushing.
Surprise sparked in his eyes, but he let her push the material from his shoulders.
She licked her lips slowly, wanting his kiss again, but wanting something more as well.
Her hands slid back to his chest and moved to the buttons of his shirt. The first one fell free before she lifted her gaze to his.
“Whatever you want.” His voice was thick, rough.
She wanted his shirt off. She pushed the second button free as his head lowered, his lips moving along her shoulder to the sensitive line of her neck.
Risa trembled at the pleasure. The scrape of his teeth sent tremors tearing down her spine and sensation to attack her womb, convulsing it violently as she gasped in surprise.
It must be natural. He didn’t pause. His hands caressed her h*ps now, stroking the silk of her dress against her flesh and making her long for the touch of his hands.
She worked on the buttons, fingers fumbling, trembling, her neck arched, and she strained closer to the touch of his mouth against her shoulders.
“Take the shirt off and I get to take your dress off,” he warned her, and he meant it. She could hear the determination, the hunger, in his voice.
She wanted her dress off. She wanted to rub against him, feel his skin against hers. She wanted to know what it was like. How much more pleasure could she bear? How much of his touch could she stand without melting to the floor with the heat rising inside her.
Her fingers reached the band of his slacks and her fingers formed fists in the material to drag his shirt out of his pants. It was open now, falling away from his surprisingly broad chest. Soft, silky chest hairs were scattered over it and arrowed down his taut stomach.
Her fingers touched the silky stuff, curled, and ran down that dark line until they met his pants once again.
She could do as she wished, he’d said.
His head lifted from her shoulder as hers straightened, and she stared back at him as her fingers touched the buckle of his belt.
“Whatever you wish,” he whispered again. “Tonight, I’m all yours, Risa.”
Tonight, just for tonight. She could have this, no explanations, no knowledge of each other. This was [theeig what she needed. She didn’t have to face him in the morning; she could leave when it was over. She would never see him again. He would never know her shameful secrets.
Her fingers pulled at the buckle, loosened the leather, and left it free as they moved to the clasp and zipper.
This wasn’t so hard. She could do this.
His slacks came loose easily. Beneath were soft cotton briefs and straining thick, hard flesh. The backs of her fingers felt the heat of that flesh; her hand ached to touch it.
“Your turn.” His voice was a heavy growl.
She felt the hidden zipper at the back of her dress loosen and stilled. She watched him carefully as he eased the straps over her arms and pushed the material from her body.
It caught at her br**sts, and she swore he swallowed tightly before pulling it over her straining ni**les. The sensation of silk brushing against the tight nubs had her moaning. A sound she tried to cut off and couldn’t.
“Risa.” His hands smoothed down her arms as she felt a latent hunger burning inside him.
Her womb clenched, she felt her vagina tightening, the slick essence of need coating the bare lips as he stared down at her br**sts.
“I want to touch you.” His groan was rougher now, filled with a primal power that sent a shiver down her back. “Sweet mercy. You make me shake with the need to touch you.”
She stared at him in wonder, wondering if he was lying, if they were just pretty words. Her mind and her heart doubted, but her body overruled it. The clash and clamor of demand shuddered through her as his hands cupped the swollen mounds.
Her knees weakened. How was she supposed to stand? The room felt as though it were spinning around her as weakness assailed her. She gripped his shoulders and watched, eyes wide as he palmed the flesh. His thumbs raked over her distended ni**les and a surge of heat caught her unaware, causing her to stumble.
“You’re making me weak!” she cried out as he caught her against him.
His lips stole anything else she would say. Slanting across hers he kissed her with a power and a demand she was helpless to fight against. Her arms wrapped around his neck as he lifted her. A moan slipped past their kiss as she felt him lowering her to the bed, easing over her, his heavy, heated body encasing her in warmth.
“Risa, you make a man lose control,” he charged as he pulled back, his hand going to her breast once again, cupping it, shaping it with his palm. “I want to taste you here. I want to draw every ounce of sweet hunger from your body.”
She couldn’t protest. She wanted to protest. Violent pulses of sensation were charging through her body, drawing her tight, trembling through her as his head lowered.