Page 23 of In Her Own Rite

“Iija,” she whispers.Yes.

I lift her and carry her to the window, then set her down on the sill. I come down to kiss her collarbone again, then her chest, and stop at the space between her breasts.

“Yeah?” I ask.

She nods, her eyes bold, holding my gaze. Her fingers reach up to the ties at her shoulders and gently pull on the strings until they come undone. The silk in the front of her dress falls down to her waist, exposing the lace of her bra.

Damn, I was wrong. Ilovemainland clothing.

I press my face between her breasts, kissing her, nipping gently at the skin as she gasps. My hands come up to her chest, and instinctively she bucks her hips, the movement so sensual that I almost lose my self-control and want to have her right there. But I steady myself, focusing on her body, studying what makes her moan and pant. I want this to last. I want her to remember. I want it better than anything she’s had before.

I cup her gently, moving over to kiss one breast over the lace of her bra. Desperately, her hands clasp behind her back, unhooking it.

“Fuck, Em.” My voice is guttural as the pale skin of her breasts becomes visible, her nipples peaking under my thumbs. They’re dark and beautiful, and a low groan escapes me as I take one into my mouth, sucking gently.

“Agaayu,” she gasps, writhing under me. “Kieran, oh my God.”

I keep going, and as she bucks against me, something in her changes. I feel a warmth blooming under her skin, coming to the surface, blossoming as she throws her head back. Everything intensifies: in her, in me, in the air between us. She looks down to meet my gaze, panting, primal. Her eyes are dark with desire, the pupils blown wide.

“Is this…?” I ask, looking up at her. But I know.

“Heat,” she nods.

“Is this still okay?” I ask, my voice hoarse.

“Please.”

Thank God.

I sink down to my knees before her, my hands moving over her supple body, taking in her waist, her hips, her thighs. I slip my hands under her dress, parting the thigh-high slit, lifting it so the fabric pools around her waist and I can see the lacy fabric of her underwear, provocatively cut to expose the roundness of her hips. A rose petal of wetness is visible in the fabric at the cleft between her lips.

“Agaayu, Em,” I groan, leaning my head against her stomach. “You can’t do this to me.”

“Foryou,” she says, her breathing shallow.

I look up, questioning.

“I wore themforyou.”

Forme.

Just for tonight, my brain reminds me.

I feel my cock straining against the fabric of my pants, and I’m dying, I need her, the way a man in the desert needs water. But still, I wait. Thiswillbe good for her. I reach up to tug the fabric down over her ass, exposing the dark blonde curls between her legs. She spreads her thighs for me, an invitation, and I don’t think twice. I lift her hips, letting her ass rest fully against the windowsill and slipping her knees over my shoulders. Delicately, reverently, I begin by kissing her inner thighs, then up to her slit. She writhes for me, moaning, impatient, and I grin against the softness of her skin.

I’ve held back ten years for this. She can wait.

I kiss along the outer edge of her lips until she’s begging, wild.

“Kieran, please. I can’t take it anymore, please. I need you.”

My mouth finds its way to her clit, and I go slowly, running my tongue over it. I want to devour her, but I know too much pressure will ruin this.

“Oh,” she gasps, throwing her head back, her hand clamping down on the window frame.

I go gently, patiently, insistently. She groans, her hips writhing, at one point arching so hard I’m worried she’ll lose her balance. I wrap one arm around her leg and bring my hand up to her waist, pressing gently on her stomach to hold her in place. Her fingers find it and lock with mine.

“More,” she begs. I take my free hand up to my mouth to wet my index finger, then bring it to her entrance. Meeting her eyes, I gently press it into her, moving slowly as she takes me to the knuckle.

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