Part 12 (1/2)

His c.o.c.k seems to think otherwise, jerking as it does with obvious enthusiasm. I grin but an instant later my lips open in a soft, helpless O of pure arousal. Holding my eyes, Ian wraps his hand around himself and strokes up and down. Despite his release mere minutes before, his erection lengthens and hardens quickly.

My mouth goes dry. What he's doing is so...wanton, so deliberate, so erotic. No wonder I feel like putty in this man's hands. When he chooses, he's a purely sensual being unhindered by any inhibitions. And I actually think that I can take him on and win?

As though he guesses my thoughts, Ian smiles. Still stroking himself, he says, ”You're more than welcome to get back on your knees, sweetheart.”

I can't endure any more of the fun I've just had, not with my own arousal growing by the minute. Hardly able to breathe, I get out the only word I can manage--'bed'--and gesture for him to precede me.

His eyebrows shoot up and I gather that I'm perilously close to crossing the line but I don't care. In this golden room, I am Venus, embodiment of desire, and he can d.a.m.n well lie down on my altar because I tell him to.

He takes a step toward it...another... His compliance clearly surprises him. ”What you do to me,” he murmurs.

Implicit in the look he shoots me is what we both know to be true. I'm going to pay for all this and sooner rather than later.

A delicious s.h.i.+ver moves down my spine as I contemplate his retaliation. Perhaps my imagination doesn't reach far enough because it fails to discourage me.

When he is stretched out on his back on the golden bed--a big, fully aroused male with a decidedly dangerous look in his eyes--I press a knee into the mattress and lift myself up and over so that I am straddling him. Settling on his upper thighs, I smile down at his c.o.c.k.

”Hi, there,” I say. ”Remember me?”

I can't help but giggle when it bobs in response. ”We're getting along so well, aren't we? Too bad the grumpy fellow you're attached to doesn't seem to fully appreciate that.”

I lean a little closer and whisper to it, ”I think he's plotting to get back at me.”

The c.o.c.k nods in agreement.

”Oh,” I say, ”you think so, too? I'll bet you even know what he has planned.”

Another nod, more emphatically this time.

”Should I be worried?”

Nod.

”Really worried?”

Nod.

”Any way you can convince him to go easier on me? He listens to you.”

It sways back and forth in what I interpret as a ”maybe yes, maybe no” gesture.

”Oh, I hope so. What can I do to convince you to help?”

Ian gives a strangled laugh. I ignore him and continue addressing his c.o.c.k.

”You're going to make me guess, aren't you? Well, then, let's see--”

I'm at a momentary loss until inspiration strikes. Straightening up, I slide my hands under the lacy top of the bustier and free my b.r.e.a.s.t.s. Remembering how he touched me there, I stroke my nipples, catching each between my thumbs and forefingers and twist lightly. His sharply indrawn breath tells me that I'm on the right track.

”You like that, don't you?” I ask his c.o.c.k.

Nod.

Hmmm, what else would it like? A thought occurs to me so wanton, so salacious...so naughty that my cheeks flame. It grows stronger and more urgent with each pa.s.sing moment. I want to do this...I need to-- Slowly, not daring to look at Ian, I reach my arms around to my back, in the process causing my b.r.e.a.s.t.s to jut out even farther. I undo the bustier and toss it on the floor. I'm left in nothing but the tiny sc.r.a.p of lace between my legs.

As slowly as I dare, I tug first on one bow, then the other and pull my panties forward so that they rub deliciously against me. Dangling the sc.r.a.p of silk from my fingertip, I toss it over my shoulder but not before noticing how wet it is. Slick, warm juice is flowing from me. I ease a hand between my thighs, catch that moisture on my fingers and-- The inner curves of my b.r.e.a.s.t.s glisten wetly as I rub the warm fluid of my own arousal between them. Above me, I'm distantly aware of Ian's ragged groan but his c.o.c.k gets all my attention. I'm finding that it's much easier to deal with than the man himself. Despite its size and power, it's nowhere near as intimidating or complicated.

I scoot down a little and position my decidedly not little friend between my moistened b.r.e.a.s.t.s, squeezing slowly as I rub up and down. Drops of creamy liquid begin to ooze from the tip. Leaning closer, I catch them on my tongue.

As I do so, I glance up. What I see robs me of breath. Ian's features are tightly drawn and beads of sweat glisten on his forehead. But more than that, he has grabbed hold of the headboard of the bed with both hands in what I can only guess is a last-ditch effort to leave me in control.

Before that becomes impossible, I rise and lower myself slowly onto him, taking first the velvet tip so engorged that it's the color of a ripe plum, followed inch by inch by his long, thick shaft. I have to stop several times and take quick breaths, so overwhelming is the sensation of being filled and stretched.

”Don't try to take more than you can, baby,” Ian says. His voice is harsh and rasping but his concern couldn't be more clear. ”I'll go very deep this way, maybe too deep for you.”

I s.h.i.+ft a little, unwilling to give up and my body opens completely, admitting him those last few inches until his tip is nudging against my the wall of my womb and his sack brushes my bottom. The sensation is exquisite--achy without actually being painful. I haven't felt this before and it leads me to wonder if he's held back in the past when he was always in control.

Lowering my head, I rack my teeth lightly over his chest as I begin to move on him. ”No holding back this time,” I murmur. ”I want all of you.”

He makes a guttural sound and arches against me. I straighten and begin a long, slow undulation, rippling along his length, moving up and down on the thick iron-hard shaft while curling my hips so that my tight, wet sheath slides caressingly around him.

I want to make this last--forever would be nice--but my own arousal dictates otherwise. My need is building, becoming all-consuming. But I want him with me, want him not merely to give me control but to lose it--completely, utterly, because of what I can do to him.

I, Amelia. Not whoever or whatever he expected me to be and most emphatically not any other woman he has ever been with. Only me, entirely and uniquely myself.

For that, I'm more than willing to hang suspended on the edge of my own o.r.g.a.s.m while using every inch of my body to pleasure him. My thighs tighten around his as I rise again, almost to the tip of him, before lowering myself to take him more quickly, increasing the pace, loving the delicious friction inside me. My hands cup my b.r.e.a.s.t.s, my fingers pulling and tugging at my nipples as he watches, his gaze filled with a wild, primal heat that steals my breath.

Faster...my head flung back, moans I cannot contain escaping me, the musky aroma of s.e.x, the wet slap of our bodies against each other, all combine in a sensory overload that threatens to shatter me. But not yet...not before him...

”I love how your c.o.c.k gets even bigger right before you come,” I murmur in between pants. ”How you throb against the walls of my...” What was that rather indelicate word he used? ”...of my p.u.s.s.y. How you fill me with your thick, hot seed and--”

A harsh, feral roar breaks from him. His hands fly free, seizing my hips, his fingers digging in hard enough to mark me. His grip is merciless, his intent clear. I've had what I asked for and now he's taking back control.

”You want me hot and hard, baby?” he growls. ”You got it.”

He thrusts hard, again and again, driving me relentlessly. The world s.h.i.+mmers, dissolving and I go with it, falling...flying...both at once. My inner muscles clench, grasping him even more tightly. Distantly, I hear myself cry his name. The sound flings me over the heights and into sweet, incandescent oblivion.

When I'm next aware of anything, I'm sprawled over Ian's body. He holds me close, one hand stroking me gently as the other remains curved on my hip, keeping me in place against him.

I taste his skin and smell the heady elixir of our bodies. A deep sigh of contentment rises from me.

He moves slightly, enough so that our gazes meet. ”All right?”

I nod. Being there with him, feeling so safe, emboldens me.