Page 82 of Close Match
My heart speeds up in anticipation. Soon, that body will be next to mine, over it. I shiver, lying trapped by the fierceness in Monty’s face and yet protected by it. My legs begin to scissor back and forth, but even that small motion highlights the need aching between them. Nothing seems to take away my need for Montague Parrish. Short of him thrusting his hard cock inside of me, I know the ache will continue to grow until it consumes me.
In the dimly lit room, his dark hair gleams as if the moon itself decided to rise early and cast its glow on this, us. My fingers clench on the duvet covers as I anticipate running them through the soft strands while I arch into his powerful thrusts. But he stops by the side of the bed, laying a hand over my quivering stomach to still me.
“I never wished for anything until before you.” His hand trembles on my skin. “How do I do someone as perfect as you justice?” His hand begins to make little circles. My stomach hollows out in reaction.
“Just want me.” Releasing the bedspread, I capture his hand and drag it up my body, over my ribs, between my breasts, until his hand is cupping my face.
“I already do.” Lifting one leg, then the other, he wraps them around his hips as he comes down on top of me, his hips aligning with mine.
“Yes,” I hiss, as I rock my hips up to meet his. His hand slides down the back of my panties and pull my hips tighter against his.
“Think of how good this will feel when it’s just us,” he rasps against my ear. “Nothing but our skin connecting. Nothing but my hands, my lips, on your body. What do you think about that?” He sinks his teeth against the cord between my shoulder and my neck.
I moan, knowing if I’d been standing, I’d have fallen. The feelings Monty causes to erupt inside of me are just that strong, just that powerful. Nothing, not even the stage, has ever made my body sing like this.
He lowers himself on top of me, and every inch of him aligns perfectly to me. Bracing his weight on his elbows, he moves his hips slowly. I want him closer—every inch of his skin on every inch of mine.
But he has other ideas.
Removing his hands from me, he rolls us until I’m straddling him.Some moves, I think wildly, as Monty’s hands cup my sensitive breasts. My nipples elongate as he rolls each one gently but diabolically with his callused thumb and forefingers. “Ohh,” I moan out my pleasure. My hips move of their own accord in his lap.
“The first time I watched you dance in the studio, I wondered if your body would move like that in bed.” My mouth opens on a gasp as he curls up to capture my lips in a searing kiss. “I’m so fucking excited to know I’m going to find out.”
Looping my arms over his neck, I press my lips against the skin of his neck. It’s a feast to my senses: the satiny texture over the rippled muscle, the scent of his woodsy cologne mixed with sweat drying on his skin, the warmth of his body. I rake my teeth over his shoulder joint just before Monty tips me back to capture the tip of one of my nipples in his mouth and sucks it tightly against the roof of his mouth.
“Oh my God.” The fingers of one hand score down his back while the other tunnels into his hair. “Don’t stop,” I plead.
He immediately lets the nipple loose. I protest with a small mew only to be granted a boon from some merciful god as he quickly latches onto the other. His other hand resumes the tweaking it was doing earlier, bringing me right to the edge. “More. Harder,” I beg.
Monty complies. Pushing my breasts together, he alternates between one and the other, leaving the nipples exposed to the cold November air floating in from the balcony doors I never closed. “Monty, I’m going to…” I mewl, just as small shivers contract my pussy. I slump in his arms slightly. He releases my breasts to wrap them tight around me. As our lips align when he raises his head, I practically devour him. I want to consume him, absorb him into my skin.
He’s an addiction I don’t mind having—definitely the first and quite possibly the last.
“I want to be inside you the next time it happens,” he murmurs against my lips. I squirm against him, anxious to feel the power of his body against mine. “But first, I want to make you forget your name.”
My heart stutters before regaining its normal rhythm. “It’s Evangeline,” I blurt out.
A roguish look crosses his face as he lays me back on the bed. “I’ll be sure to ask you that again in a few minutes.” Gripping the sides of my panties, he drags them down my legs. I lift my legs to assist him.
Once he’s tossed them aside, I go to wrap my legs behind his back, but he presses them gently to the side of the bed. Kissing me, he leaves me partially dazed as he begins a descent, trailing kisses over the peaks and valleys of each rib, my hips before coming to the smooth juncture between my legs.
I arch my back, practically begging for his lips and tongue to taste me.
And he does.
“Perfect,” he mutters as he circles my clit with his tongue. I let out a harsh groan and call out his name.
“Monty!”
“Can you take more?” he wonders as he slips one, no, two fingers inside of me. I practically levitate off the bed.
“No!” I cry out. I’m going to come again with what he’s doing, and I want to with him.
I need to go again with him.
With a wicked laugh, he moves his mouth to the side, leaving a gentle kiss on my inner thigh. After a moment, he slides his fingers out and promptly slides them inside his lips. Pushing to his knees, he shoves down the rest of his clothes and kicks them off the side of the bed. His hand drops down to his cock, touching the thing I want most in this world. And quite simply, I break.
I scramble out and frantically push him onto his back. “Condom?” I demand.
