Page 28 of Soaring on Love

Had he any idea how much his words turned her on? “I’ve never been known as a taker, but I guess I can make an exception and gracefully accept everything you’re offering. That’s the least I can do.”

Roth smirked. “Close your eyes. And keep them closed until I say open them.”

Her lips parted with mounting protest, but when Roth shook his head, clearly warding off her objections, she followed his directions. Once her eyes were shut, Roth blanketed her body again. The feel of his solid flesh meshed against her was foreplay all by itself.

Roth tilted her head to one side, then placed a delicate kiss just below her earlobe, then whispered in her ear, “All I want you to do is just feel. Can you do that for me?”

Oh, she was feeling already, so that shouldn’t be a problem. “Yes,” she said, mimicking his tone.

Roth kissed her in the same spot again. A blink later, what felt like hundreds of feather-soft kisses peppered her tingling skin: her neck, her jawline, her shoulder, her collarbone. Then it all stopped. Her lids fluttered, the desire to open her eyes as intense as the sensations swirling through her entire body.

Roth’s soft lips tasted her skin again, kissing a line between the valley of her aching breasts. Dragging his tongue over one mound, he sucked a hardened bead between his lips. The intensity of the act caused Tressa to gasp, then smile with delight. He worked his tongue slowly, twirling circles around her tender nipple and flicking it gently. “Mmm.”

He took his time exploring her body, kissing, licking, suckling, driving her mad. Inching down, Roth alternated between tender kisses and delicate nips to her skin. When he positioned her legs over his shoulders and claimed her core, she cried out in bliss. His tongue lit a raging blaze that threatened to consume her.

A bead of sweat trickled down her neck, taunting her already-sensitive skin. There was not one word that could effectively describe the havoc Roth was wreaking on her body.

As if he thought his tongue wasn’t bringing her enough pleasure, he introduced his fingers. The second he glided them inside her wetness, curled them upward and worked them in and out of her, she lost all control. Fists clenched the soft material beneath them, blood whooshed in her ears and her body temperature rose several degrees.

Vicious waves of intense pleasure crashed through her. Never had she experienced an orgasm so powerful, so consuming. Her legs shook, her entire body folded to the delicious torture Roth was subjecting her to.

After what seemed like an eternity, her body calmed. Roth made his way back up her shivering torso in the same manner he’d gone down, still as gentle as before. He, again, feathered her burning skin with delicate kisses. His caring manner only made her want him more.

Roth’s stone-like hardness pressed against her trembling thigh. At her mouth, he placed a soft kiss on her lips. The idea that her essence lingered on his lips aroused her again.

“Open your eyes,” he said.

Beyond the heated look of desire, there was something more. Hesitation? She hoped not. If he denied her now, there was no doubt she’d die.

“Finish what you started,” she said as motivation.

Roth reached for something. His wallet. Then a condom.

On his knees, their gazes held as he tore into the gold foil. She broke their connection in favor of watching him roll the latex down his impressive length. Her body supercharged at the notion of him satisfying the raging hunger inside her.

Roth blanketed her body and captured her mouth in a heady kiss. Without using his hand, his manhood effortlessly located her opening. She drew in a long, sharp breath, then released it in a shaky moan.

“Did you feel that, baby?”

Tressa whined, “Yes.”

“Did it feel good?”

“Yes. Yes!”

Tressa couldn’t ever remember a man filling her, stretching her, going as deep as Roth. And his gentleness… Sex with Cyrus had always been so urgent, so stiff, so swift. Not discounting the satisfaction obtained from the occasional urgent, stiff, fast interlude, because sometimes that was exactly how she wanted it, but this—the way Roth chose patient over rushed, gentle over rigid, unhurried over quick—was what she needed right now.

He’d wanted her to just feel. And, goodness, was she feeling.

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