A Creed in Stone Creek - Linda Lael Miller [70]
Apparently, they were past the first-aid stage.
Melissa suppressed a moan of pure need as she watched Steven stand up, unbutton his shirt partway, and then impatiently haul the garment off over his head.
His chest was broad, his muscle tone was good and a light dusting of hair, the color of brown sugar, caught the light.
“You’re sure?” he asked again.
The longer she looked at him, the surer she was.
“Yes,” she said. It was an ache, that simple word.
He didn’t take off his jeans then, which was probably a mercy, Melissa figured, because she already wanted him so badly that she might have bolted right up off that bed and tackled him to the floor if she’d seen what was under them. Not that his erection didn’t show, because it strained against that thin layer of denim.
The mattress dipped and he was beside her again, gathering her close, deftly unhooking her bra, so that skin met skin. Kissing her so deeply, so thoroughly, that she couldn’t hold still any longer.
Her body flexed on the bed, already slick with need, and burning. Burning everywhere. She was on fire, and nothing had even happened yet.
She felt his thumb slide under the elastic on her panties, and then those were gone, too, as easily as if they’d dissolved under the heat of his hand.
His hand. It was between her legs now, stroking her, teasing her, subtly parting her.
He kissed his way down her neck, stopped to nibble at her left breast, then her right. She was squirming, even whimpering a little, by the time he left the nipples, wet from his mouth and so hard that they nearly hurt.
He reached her belly, tasting her skin, his fingers still plying her.
Melissa’s whole body buckled in reaction; if he kept this up, she’d have an orgasm way too soon. She didn’t realize she’d voiced this concern aloud until Steven laughed and shifted, kneeling between her legs now.
“Go ahead and let yourself go if you need to,” he drawled, leaning forward now, his hands gently possessive on her breasts. “There will be plenty more where that came from.”
Another groan escaped her, fierce, almost primordial.
And then he lowered himself to her, parted her with his fingers, flicked at her with the tip of his tongue.
Melissa’s hips surged upward, and she made a soblike sound, hoarse with lust.
He tempted. He teased. He feasted, and then withdrew, and then feasted again.
Melissa buried her fingers in his hair, frantic. Her body flew, but Steven stayed with her.
She began to quiver all over, and perspiration misted her skin, made wisps and tendrils of her hair stick to her neck and her cheeks and her forehead. Finally, she pleaded, in a scratchy rasp….
And the climax came, shattering, a thing of light and heat and fire, blinding her, wringing guttural shouts from her throat, causing her heels to dig deep into the surface of the mattress.
Steven held her afterward, until the trembling had eased, until she could breathe, and then got up, a haze at the periphery of her vision, and got out of his jeans.
She hadn’t seen his shaft—everything was blurry—but she felt it all right, because he was soon on top of her. The length of him, hard and hot, pressed against her abdomen and belly, a physical portent of what was about to happen.
Melissa moaned again, as all the melted-honey satisfaction of her recent climax instantly morphed into something greedy and feverish and utterly wild.
Steven shifted his weight slightly, careful not to crush her, and she knew he was putting on the condom. Even that move was graceful.
He kissed her again, then looked straight into her eyes and said, “Last chance to say no.”
Melissa arched her back, inviting him inside her in that way as old as the human race, and now it was Steven who groaned. He was part of her in one swift, fiery stroke, sheathed to the hilt.
She reveled in the sensation of being conquered and, at the same time, conquering. By tacit agreement, they both lay still for a few long, delicious moments, simply savoring this most intimate of all connections.
As soon as he began to move, though, Melissa was