Why the hell did he keep hearing innocence in her voice, seeing it in her eyes? When he stared into the slate gray depths, he saw a woman who had no idea the pleasure her body could experience, the heights arousal could take her.
His gaze went down her body once again, a groan tearing from his throat at the sight of the honeyed glaze glistening on the folds of her pu**y. Her clit, a sweet pink little pearl, peeked from between those folds, tempting his lips, his tongue.
“You don’t know what you do to a man,” he growled as he moved closer, leaning over her until his lips could brush against hers. “You make me hungry, lollipop.”
A slow smile curled the lips beneath his. “Your lollipop?”
Hell! He wasn’t going to survive this. The low, sleepy sensuality in her face and voice was more than he could bear.
“My lollipop.” And he’d be damned if he let another man have a taste of it now.
His lips lowered against hers more firmly, his tongue licking at the seam of her lips until they parted for him, until her tongue came out to meet his and a low, feminine groan met his kiss.
God, he remembered her kiss. Of all the things he remembered from that alcohol-hazed memory of nearly having it, it was the taste of her kiss. Like the sweetest innocence.
How the hell did she manage it? She’d dated more men than he could name over the years. There was no way that innocence was as pure as it seemed.
He’d be damned if he cared, though. Hell, he wasn’t exactly a virgin himself and he didn’t expect to ever encounter one. He didn’t give a damn. From here on out, she would belong solely to him, though; he’d ensure it.
Threading his fingers into the thick, blue-black curls that framed her face, John held her in place and deepened the kiss. His tongue sank into her mouth, touched hers, and felt her lips close on it with a sensual grip. She suckled at his tongue with lazy enjoyment, causing his dick to clench and tighten at the memory of her lips sucking him there as well.
Damn, she was making him hot. He should have turned the AC up before bringing her to the bedroom.
The sweet brush of her ni**les seared through the material of his T-shirt as she arched against him. Full, swollen br**sts were cushioned against his chest, and the heat of them rushed through his body like a narcotic.
He couldn’t think of anything better than releasing his dick and sinking balls deep inside the tight, slick depths of her pu**y.
For just a second, for one flash of imagery, he could have sworn he’d done so before. Felt her, so f**king tight he thought he’d die from it. Then it was gone, remnants of dreams he’d had over the years. Fantasies he hadn’t been able to help.
Tearing his lips from hers, John set about giving her pleasure. Simply pleasure. No pressure. This time wasn’t for him, it was for his Sierra.
She’d been hurt, bruised, almost broken. He wanted to wipe that memory from her mind. Wipe it and replace it with sweet pleasure, with satisfaction. He wanted her to know gentleness, to know the heated arousal, the warmth of sexual fulfillment.
She was exhausted, worn, but he knew she didn’t sleep well. That was something he intended to help her with this morning.
Sierra barely restrained the cry that would have torn from her lips as John’s lips moved down her throat to the rise of her br**sts. Her entire body was sensitized, but strangely, she couldn’t feel the pain.
There was no pain.
There was only John’s touch, the feel of his lips and tongue stroking their way to a nipple as it rose hard and tight for his lips.
“Don’t tease me, John,” she moaned, arching closer to his lips, desperate to feel them enclosing her nipple.
“You’ve teased me,” he whispered, pure sex filling his voice. “For a year, Sierra, the thought of your touch has teased me to near insanity.”
His head lowered, the feel of his tongue licking around the sensitive, hard tip of one nipple, stole her breath. The damp warmth stroked sensations through the flesh that sent her senses spinning.
Slow, deliberate licks, each one avoiding the nipple, stroking around it, teasing her so unbearably that her hands slid into his hair to hold him to her.
Which was more destructive? she wondered. Those lazy licks, or if he actually took her nipple into his mouth?
She had no idea of the answer to that question, but she wanted to know it.
Before she could voice the demand, the plea, his lips covered the tender peak, sucking inside his mouth as the nerve endings began to riot chaotically.
Sierra could feel her ni**les becoming impossibly harder. The tender tip he held between his lips throbbed and ached, ecstasy spiking through it and slicing to her womb as he sucked it harder.
Rubbing his tongue against it a murmured growl of approval rumbled in his chest as she arched, trying to get closer, fighting to press deeper into his mouth.
The feel of his shoulders, the muscles shifting and bunching beneath her hands, had her nails digging into the flesh as his tongue licked over nipple again.
The suction of his mouth combined with the lash of his tongue against the nerve-ridden tip had a cry tearing from her lips. He sucked her harder now, deeper, his tongue whipping over the sensitive tip with such destructive pleasure that she felt her senses rushing out of control.
Her hips arched, her thighs opening wider as she pressed the wet, aching heat of the enflamed folds against the hard strength of his thigh and rode it in pleasure.
He had to know how desperate she was for his touch now. How desperate she had always been. There was no disguising it at this point. No matter how much she wished she could fight against it, it was still overwhelming.
“John,” she panted his name as his hand slid from her waist to her bare thigh. “What are you trying to do to me?”
She was so wet she could feel her juices collecting thick and heavy on the bare folds of her pu**y as he moved back, holding her still with one hand as the other caressed and stroked. His fingers stroked along her thigh, growing closer as his lips moved to her other nipple, enclosing it in the heat of his mouth as she arched and allowed her thighs to fall wider apart. She needed his fingers closer to her aching flesh, to the pulsing heat of her clit.
As his lips drew on her nipple, his fingers found the delicate knot of tissue, surrounded it, and oh so delicately began to milk the little kernel.
Sierra’s eyes widened. Her thighs tightened until she could feel the muscles straining, trembling. She could feel the orgasm rising inside her. She could feel it pulsing, pounding through her senses, riding a wave filled with heat and desperation.