Ralston stopped and took her in, his hands stroking down her lush body, molding to her skin, flush with equal parts passion and embarrassment. She tried to cover herself, but he wouldn’t allow it, his hands staving hers off in playful movements as he drank her in. She gave up on hiding her breasts, but could not stop herself from covering the thatch of brown curls that marked her most private place.
He lifted her hand from there and replaced it with his own. He kissed her deeply before pulling back just enough to speak. “Are you embarrassed, my lovely?”
At her nod, he pressed the heel of his hand firmly against her, enjoying the feeling of immense satisfaction that coursed through him when she sighed her pleasure against his mouth. “Don’t be…let me cover you.”
At the words, Callie burst into shocked laughter, which he shared intimately until he slid one, warm finger between the plump lips of her sex and turned her laughing into a gasp of pleasure as he found the opening of her inner flesh and stroked deep inside her.
“You are so very beautiful, my love.”
She closed her eyes, the combination of erotic caress and coveted endearment too much for her to bear. He claimed her mouth again. “I’ve never known such passion. Such responsiveness. You make me want to tie you up and have my way with you.” An image flashed through her mind of her bound, defenseless against the onslaught of his caresses. She opened her eyes in surprise and met his amused gaze. Reading her thoughts, he continued, “Someday, Empress, I shall show you just how much pleasure such an interlude can bring…but, tonight.” His thumb rubbed gently through her aching, swollen flesh, seeking and finding the tight bud of pleasure there. She arched into the caress as he continued, “Tonight, I want you touching me as well.” He traced small circles with his finger, drawing frustrated cries from Callie as moisture rained down into his palm. He set his lips to hers, and whispered, “So wet…” A second finger joined the first, thrusting deep, stretching her as her body clenched around him. “So tight…”
He spoke against her parted, moist lips as she pushed against him. “So beautiful.”
He was pushing her farther and farther to the brink, his mouth and hands everywhere at once. She was his pianoforte; he played her body and her mind with his warm hands and wicked words. She focused on his hand, on the deep slide of his fingers as they worked her into a frenzy, on the firm, wonderful stroke of his thumb, circling the place to which all of her energy seemed to have fled. She rocked against him, begging for more, crying his name.
And then he was between her legs, spreading them wide and holding her down as he set his mouth to the place where she most desperately needed him. His tongue flicked and laved with intensity that she could not bear—the powerful lash of the caress robbing her of breath and of thought and of everything but feeling. She let her hands fall to his head, her fingers clenching wildly in his hair as he worked her swollen, desperate flesh with fingers and tongue and lips until she thought she might die if he ever stopped. She could feel a rolling wave of pleasure building, higher and higher as his caresses grew faster and harder, as the tip of his tongue flicked boldly across the peak of her sex, his mouth tugging at her until she lost her mind. She lifted her hips from the chaise as she felt the crest of pleasure peak and the wave crashed over her and she cried out and clung to him—the rock at the center of her tilting world.
His caresses gentled, and he brought her back to the moment, soothing her flesh before lifting his head and looking up at her. He caught his breath when he met her eyes, which burned with passion and feminine knowledge. She extended one, beckoning hand out to him, and said, “Come here.”
The words sent a shudder through him, and he couldn’t stop himself from stretching out beside her again. Her hands ran along his side, stroking down to his breeches where she could see the fabric straining across the hard ridge of him. She traced one finger along the length of him and reveled in the hitch of his breath. With a smile borne of feminine power, she repeated the caress more firmly, and he grasped her hand, stilling the movement.
Meeting her eyes, he spoke, breath harsh. “A man only has so much willpower, Empress. If you touch me like that, I cannot guarantee I will be able to restrain myself.”
Callie freed her hand from his grasp and set it to the side of his face, guiding him down for another kiss. This time, she controlled the caress. It was her tongue that stroked the inside of his warm mouth, her lips that played across his firm, full lower lip. When she ended the caress, she traced her hand back down his torso to the buttons of his breeches. Holding his gaze, she used shaking fingers to release the straining placket of fabric from its fastenings. Sliding her hand inside, she found his straining length and grasped him firmly in her eager hand. His eyes darkened as she spoke, a tremor in her voice the only indication of her nervousness. “What if I were to touch you like this?”