Page 62 of Tempting Fate
The wondrous pleasure in her voice elicited a surge of masculine elation. He’d found something. Something she wanted. Something she liked. A turgid little nub just below the peak of her soft mound.
He thrummed it over the wet silk with the pad of his thumb. Once. Twice. Eliciting hitches of breath from her each time.
“Yes.” She answered the question he didn’t ask. “Yes. Like that. It… it feels like… like…”
Words seemed to abandon her as he dared to press a little deeper, to stroke a little faster. Her thighs twitched beneath his hands, clenching and releasing in demanding little bursts. She clutched at his shoulders and tossed back her head, exposing the vulnerable skin of her throat.
Unable to stop himself, he pressed his lips beneath her jaw and tasted the rich flavor of her skin. Soap and salt and something sweeter. Something undeniably Felicity.
In that moment, Gabriel knew he had to taste all of her before he would ever be satisfied.
Every inch.
He didn’t know what he expected to find between her thighs, but these pleats of moist heat were better than anything his imagination conjured. To press his cock here, to locate the source of the wetness—
Felicity’s fingers became gentle claws, scoring their way over the quivering ridges of his abdomen only to stop at the barrier of his waistband.
Every thought he had deserted him like a flock of scattered birds at the shot of a rifle.
She slipped a finger beneath his waistband, pulling his hips closer, drawing his body against hers as she arched up for another kiss.
Those curious, devious hands ventured down the placket of buttons, finding the turgid ridge of his sex aching to reach her.
At her first caress, his palms slammed to the shelf on both sides of her, holding the weight that his knees could no longer support.
“It’s… so thick,” she marveled in his ear.
Her testing of the length and girth of him only produced strangled, desperate sounds from his throat, as he fought not to unman himself right there.
“Am I hurting you?” she fretted.
He shook his head, and that seemed to embolden her to attempt to grip him.
“Christ. Jesus.Fuck.”
He should be ashamed of his blasphemy in her presence, but it exploded from him in helpless bursts.
“What does it feel like?” Her hot breath was an erotic torment on his neck.
“There aren’t… words.”
“Not even one?” she pleaded.
He searched through the cavern of his mind, swimming through lust-addled thoughts. “Sharp but aching… throbbing. Needing…” His words dissolved into a breathless groan.
“I felt that too,” she admitted shyly. “Is intimacy always like this? So powerful?”
“I— I don’t—” His forehead fell to her shoulder. He couldn’t take much more of this.
“May I touch you?” She fiddled with the placket of his trousers, releasing a few buttons, apparently confident of his reply. “Your skin? Your—”
“God, yes.”
Her legs opened wider, and she released one hand from his trousers to pull the hem of her nightshift higher. “Will you touch me? As you did before?”
This couldn’t be happening.It was like some sort of fantastical dream come to life.
His hand fell to her bare knee and inched higher, discovering the especially delicate skin on the inside of her slim thigh.
