Page 44 of Dangerous Passion

He lightened up. He was naturally dominant in bed, rarely letting the woman be on top, often holding her limbs down. He had to curb his nature with Grace, let her breathe, follow her lead.

Another slow journey around her labia, smiling inside at the light moan coming from the back of her throat.

Time to take the next step. She was wet. His finger was making slippery little noises as he explored the outside of her sex. He opened his mouth wider over hers, and entered her sheath with his finger.

Uh oh.

Trouble.

Grace stiffened, then consciously relaxed her muscles, but Drake knew she wasn’t in that dreamy, lax state she’d been in. His finger was hurting her. She was hiding it, but he could tell.

Fuck.

She was incredibly tight, much too tight.

He lifted his head and she gave an uneasy smile. She was trying to relax her muscles around his finger, trying to breathe her way through it.

He remembered an old movie line. “Houston, we have a problem.”

That earned him a laugh.

“Sorry, I’m?—“

He lay a finger across her lips. “Shhh. God, no apologies.” He slid his finger out a little, then back in. Tight little muscles clenched around him. “But if I make love to you now, I’ll hurt you, and I don’t want to do that. When was the last time you had a man … here?” He thrust his finger a little more deeply.

“Not … for a long time.” Her narrow ribcage was rising and falling rapidly.

Drake stilled, astounded. “Are American men blind, then? Or crazy?”

Grace laughed, her hands kneading his shoulder muscles. “Actually, I think American men thinkI’mcrazy. Or eccentric beyond their comfort zone. I guess I actually stopped thinking about sex a couple of years ago.” Small frown lines appeared between ash brown eyebrows. “Is this really going to be a problem?”

Yes, but he would get around it.

Drake took her hand, lifted it to his mouth, then brought it under the drawstring of his pajama pants to fold around his penis. His breath blew out in a hiss at the feel of her hand around him. “You tell me if we have a problem.”

“God,” she whispered, her face showing shock. “I’m not—I can’t.” She sucked in a breath, her hand flexing around his dick. Experimentally, she ran it up over the head, feeling it weeping, then pulling her fist down to the base. She had to open her hand up to do it. Her touch electrified him. “What do you suggest we?—“

The words were drowned in his mouth. The kiss was deeper, harder, more possessive than before and it reverberated in both their bodies. He could feel how the kiss affected her. She clenched tightly around his finger, growing slicker by the second. And Grace could feel how his dick surged in her hand, echoing her inner muscles. She was growing wetter and so was he, the tip of his dick weeping so hard he could feel the cool air. It wasn’t all he was feeling. As he shifted so that his chest covered hers without breaking the kiss, a hot electric line raced along his spine. His balls tightened painfully. He could move his finger with ease now, in and out of her slick folds. His thumb passed over her clitoris again and she passed her own thumb over the slit at the tip of his cock that was weeping to be in her.

He felt it with every cell in his body.

“I will be in you here, soon,” he breathed into her mouth, finger sliding into her deeply, so slick and hot. “But only when you are ready.”

Her hand speeded up. So did his. “I might … be ready now,” she panted.

She wasn’t ready for his penis but she was definitely ready to come.

“First you come for me,” Drake murmured against her mouth, setting up a rhythm of penetration and retreat echoed by her hand fisting his dick.

Grace gave out a little cry, almost of surprise, the walls of her sex clenching hard, over and over as her legs shook. It pushed him right over the edge as every muscle tensed and the base of his spine exploded. He bit the pillow next to her head as he came in long, rhythmic spurts, in time with her contractions. She kept her hand around him, hot and tight, milking him as they both shook and moaned.

Finally, Drake’s muscles relaxed, felt like water as he lay half over her, one hand cupping her mound, one hand cupping her head. She released his dick finally.

Their breathing slowed, evened out.

“Well, that worked,” she finally whispered.

Drake could barely lift his head.

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