He kissed the salty tears from her cheeks, her jaw, her neck. And then he kissed her mouth, slowly at first, tasting her pain and despair. Tasting her desire.
He didn’t know whether he turned her in his arms, or whether she shifted herself. He only knew she was astride him, facing him, her long legs wrapped around his hips, and the kissing had gone long past comfort.
She expected annoyance, tolerance, perhaps even a distant amusement. She hadn’t expected his reaction.
His arms closed around her like a vice, pulling her tightly up against him. And she didn’t have time to kiss him—the touch of her mouth against his seemed to ignite a firestorm. She could feel him through every inch of her body, the lean, deceptively strong body beneath the suit, the heat and lure of muscle and sinew, the sheer intensity of him. She felt as if she were being absorbed into a maelstrom, and all she could do was hold onto him as he kissed her, he kissed her, using his tongue, kissing her with a thoroughness she’d never experienced.
He slid his arm under her waist, hauled her up, and entered her that way, sliding in deep, so deep, and her guttural cry was a heartbreaking pleasure.
He couldn’t stop. She wouldn’t let him. She twisted her head around and kissed him, and he wanted to keep on and on, to fill her mouth, her body, her soul with him. To have her take everything and then want more.
He couldn’t have known. The moonlight wasn’t enough to illuminate the room, and the tears that spilled silently down her cheeks didn’t touch him. But suddenly the kiss softened, the hands gentled on her, the lips coaxed and teased and healed. And without any more thought she was kissing him back, reaching for him with her mouth while her hands were held back, seeking him out with her tongue, calling him to her in the only way she could.
Anne StuartIf this were a different time, a different place, I would take you to bed with me and make love to you for days.
Anne StuartStichwörter: making-love
No soy un caballero y probablemente no sea lo que tú quieres, pero puedes estar segura de que voy a ser lo que necesitas
Anne StuartIf this were a different time, a different place, I would take you to bed with me and make love to you for days," he said, his voice slow and deep and intent. "I would use my mouth on you, until no part of your skin went untouched, and I would make you come, over and over again until you could stand no more, and then I'd let you sleep in my arms until you were rested and then I would start all over again. I would kiss your wounds, I would drink your tears, I could make love to you in ways that haven't even been invented yet. I would make love to you in fields of flowers and under starry skies, where there is no death or pain or sorrow. I would show you things you haven't even dreamed of, and there would be no one in the world but you and me, between your legs, in your mouth, everywhere.
Anne StuartHe had no idea what Jilly Lovitz would appreciate or not. And why the hell did her name have so many fucking L's in it? She'd probably done it on purpose, just to annoy him.
Anne StuartStichwörter: reno
Revenge was a dish best served cold.
Anne StuartStichwörter: finn
Dawn couldn't come soon enough. He had to get her out of his life as quickly as
possible. It was becoming the most important thing—more important than breathing, living. He needed to get away from her, fast. Because he didn't want to let her go.
Stichwörter: takashi
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