Page 1 of A Naked Beauty

ChapterOne

Dee

I drift out of sleepinto heated pleasure.

The soft brush of lips along my neck and rasp of stubble teases my skin.

I might have thought I was dreaming except the feeling is far too potent.

Still, I keep my eyes closed and savor the velvety kisses that Mick scatters down my chest and across the pushed-up swells of cleavage. The hot ache of arousal billows inside me, blooming with a love and desire that had been too-long denied.

His mouth moves over my breasts, encased in the fitted cups of my nightie. He drags out my moan when the tip of his tongue plays a butterfly rhythm against my taut nipples. The gentle laps and friction of the dampened lace add another layer of exquisite sensation.

I’ve lost count of how many times we’ve made love this weekend, endless hours of exploration, relearning all the sweet spots, and discovering new and exciting delights.

He slides his hand between my legs, distilling the world into this moment. Into this space.

“Mick,” I beg.

“Right here.” He groans roughly, testing me with one finger, then two. His touch is intimate. Reverent. His strokes surge into my quivering sex,working me with deliberate intent while the pad of his thumb circles the nub of delicate nerve endings.

Mick’s self-restraint seems absolute on the surface, his seduction singularly focused on me. And yet, his breathing is harsher than my own, his body trembles just as hard. Being aware of how much pleasuring me turns him on, of how acutely attuned he is, makes me hotter, wilder. I writhe, bucking my hips and riding his hand.

“That’s it, baby,” he urges, his breath a hot trail on my skin, his fingers working their blissful magic. “I can feel you. So close. So sexy.”

One more stroke and rapture explodes. The release is dizzying. I open my eyes, and the only thing clear and steady is Mick. My beautiful lover. The other half of my soul, returned to me after fifteen years of heartbreaking separation.

“I can’t get enough,” he whispers and eases his fingers from my body to push the nightie up my torso and over my head.

Bared, I have a fleeting moment of self-consciousness, but it dissolves when his chest replaces the material, and he covers me in delicious heat. I run my nails up and down the ripples in his back, worshiping the weight of his hard body pressed against mine, the feel of muscle and hot flesh.

He lowers his head, and takes long tastes of my mouth, sliding his tongue along the open seam, nipping my bottom lip before he deepens the kiss with soft, skillful plunges. He curled my toes at eighteen. He curls my toes still.

His hands push beneath my thighs, raising my knees up and spreading them. Then in one fluid movement, he shifts his hips downward and thrusts into me, stealing my breath.

“Ah, Dee…” He slides out to the tip then slides back in. “You always feel so damn good.”

Everything in my core tightens greedily. I claw at his back and wrap my legs around his waist.

The tempo he sets is slow and measured, a smooth, erotic grind. No matter the pace, Mick’s brand of lovemaking is possessive in the best way possible. It’s what I crave. Him loving me, reclaiming me. I didn’t know how lonely I was until he bulldozed his way back into my life and filled all those empty places. Even through our anger—even after it built to an ugly boiling point and the devastating secrets and losses came spilling out—his pursuit was relentless, his love unconditional. No matter how many times I ran, afraid to risk my heart again, he caught me, held on, and proved with words and deeds that I was his and he was mine.

Now bound to his sweat-slick body, my arms and legs sealed around him, I rock into his rhythm, our rhythm—a harmony of hearts and breaths and hips. I close my eyes, listening to his rumbling groans and feel their vibration against my mouth. My hands squeeze the flexing muscles in his back, and I glory in the way we fit together, a key into a lock that opens up treasures, both the familiar and the new.

Urgency spools inside me, and my nails bite into his skin as his powerful thrusts massage me from the inside out.

“Don’t stop,” I plead, between our breathy kisses and throaty moans.

“Not ever,” he rasps. “I was made to love you.”

His impassioned words, the fervor of his movements…I climax again. The intensity of my orgasm violently shakes my body and clenches my sex. Mick shudders through the hard contractions. Then quickening his pace, he drives me into the mattress with erotic abandon, and comes, pushing so deep inside me, I feel it through to my soul.

Shuddering, he buries his face in my neck and holds me so tight I can hardly breathe. But I don’t need air when I have Mick. I just need him and the way he makes me feel. Safe. Cherished. And beautiful.

When he recovers and his head lifts to stare down at me, I have to smile. He looks sexy and sated. His dark, wavy hair is all mussed. His skin is damp with sweat, and his espresso-brown eyes are at half-mast.

“Mm. I could get used to waking up like this.” I touch his whiskered cheek. “You’re way better than an alarm clock.”

“No programming required.” He grins lazily. “And I come with extra features.”

---