Page 145 of Wisteria and Cloves

"That's it," he encouraged, his voice thick with desire. "Don't hold back. I want to hear every sound you make." His hands moved with practiced skill, one cupping my breast while the other traced patterns along my inner thigh.

The dual sensations made me tremble beneath him, my body responding to his touch with an eagerness that still surprised me. His thumb circled my nipple with gentle pressure whilehis other hand moved higher on my thigh, so close to where I needed him most but not quite there yet.

"Please," I whispered, my hips shifting restlessly against the soft blankets of my nest.

Christopher lifted his head to look at me, his gray eyes dark with desire. "Please what, wildflower? Use your words."

The command in his voice, made heat pool low in my belly. "Touch me," I managed, my cheeks flushing at my own boldness. "I need you to touch me."

"Where?" he asked, his fingers stilling on my thigh. "Here?" His hand moved fractionally higher, making me gasp.

"Higher," I breathed, my voice barely audible. He gave a low hum but didn’t move to where I was aching for him to touch.

"Higher," I pleaded again, my body arching toward his touch. Christopher's smile was predatory as he finally, finally slid his hand where I needed him most. The first brush of his fingers against my core made me gasp, my hips lifting instinctively to meet his touch.

"So wet already," he murmured, his voice thick with approval. "Is this all for me, Lilianna?"

"Yes," I breathed, clutching at his shoulders as his fingers explored with exquisite precision, but let out a whine when he let his hand move away from me.

"Christopher, please," I gasped, my hips lifting involuntarily, seeking his touch.

"I love when you beg," he murmured, his lips curving into a wicked smile that made my heart race. "But I've been dreaming about this for too long to rush it." His mouth descended, pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses along my collarbone, then lower, trailing fire across my skin until he reached my breast.

When his lips closed around my nipple, a cry escaped me that I couldn't have contained if I tried. His tongue swirled around the sensitive peak, alternating between gentle licks and firmersuction that had me writhing beneath him. My hands fisted in his hair, holding him against me as pleasure radiated through my body from that single point of contact.

"Christopher," I gasped, my voice breaking on his name.

He hummed against my skin, the vibration sending new waves of sensation through me. His free hand kneaded my other breast, thumb rolling over the nipple until it peaked under his attention. The dual assault on my senses was almost too much to bear.

"So sensitive," he murmured, switching his attention to my other breast. "I could spend hours just worshipping these perfect breasts."

The thought of him taking his time, of being at his mercy for hours, made me shiver with anticipation. My body was already thrumming with need, and he'd barely begun even touching me.

Christopher's mouth left my breast, trailing kisses down my stomach with maddening slowness. Each press of his lips against my skin felt like a brand, marking me as his. When he reached my hip bone, he paused, his breath hot against my sensitive flesh.

"You taste like honey and wildflowers," he murmured, his hands spreading my thighs wider. "I've been craving this since that first day in the kitchen when you looked at me like you wanted to devour me."

I couldn't form words, could only whimper as his mouth moved lower. The sensation was delicious torture, making me arch and writhe beneath him. When his tongue finally found my center, I cried out, my back bowing off the nest as pleasure crashed through me.

"So sweet," Christopher groaned against me, the vibration of his voice making me shudder with need. He worked with the same methodical precision he brought to cooking, alternating between long, slow strokes and focused attention on that bundleof nerves that made me see stars. My hands clutched at the blankets of my nest, seeking purchase as he built the tension inside me with deliberate care.

"Look at me," he commanded softly, lifting his head just enough to meet my gaze. His lips were slick, his eyes dark with hunger. "I want to watch you fall apart."

I forced my eyes to stay open, to hold his gaze as he returned his attention to my core. The visual of him between my thighs, combined with the exquisite torture of his tongue, pushed me closer to the edge. My breathing became ragged, my body trembling with the effort of holding back. When he slipped two fingers inside me while his tongue continued to devour me, his eyes locked on me at every movement.

"Let go," he murmured against me, his voice rough with desire, his fingers working faster as they curled inside me, sending shots of pleasure through me. "I want to feel you fall apart on my tongue."

The command combined with him biting softly on the bundle of nerves sent me over the edge. I cried out his name, my body arching as waves of pleasure crashed through me. Christopher didn't stop, working me through the climax until I was gasping for air. As the intensity of pleasure subsided into pulsing aftershocks, Christopher kissed his way back up my body, his lips leaving a trail of fire along my sensitive skin. When he reached my mouth, he captured it in a kiss that tasted of me—raw and intimate in a way that made me moan against his lips.

"Beautiful," he murmured against my mouth, his hand cupping my face with surprising tenderness. "You're even more responsive than I imagined."

I reached for him, suddenly aware that he was still fully clothed while I lay bare before him. "Too many layers," I whispered, tugging at his shirt with newfound boldness.

Christopher's eyes darkened as he pulled back to look at me. "Impatient, aren't we?" Despite his teasing words, he sat up and began unbuttoning his shirt with deliberate slowness, revealing his chest inch by inch. I propped myself up on my elbows, drinking in the sight of him. His chest was lean but defined, scattered with dark hair that trailed down his stomach and disappeared beneath his waistband. My fingers itched to trace those lines, to explore the plains and valleys of his torso.

"Like what you see?" he asked, shrugging out of his shirt completely. The soft light from the bedside lamp cast shadows across his skin, highlighting every muscle.

"Very much," I admitted, my voice husky with desire. "But you're still wearing too much."

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