Kiss of Midnight_ A Midnight Breed Novel - Lara Adrian [207]
His breath leaked out of him in a hiss. “You feel like silk, Tess. Wet, hot silk.”
He penetrated her as he spoke, just the tip of his finger, the smallest invasion. She wanted more. She lifted her hips, a quiet moan in her throat as he drew back, teasing, sliding her moisture up around her clit with the tip of his slick finger.
“What?” he asked her in a gruff whisper. “What do you want, Tess?”
She writhed under his touch, reaching for him. Dante bent down and kissed her stomach as he put both hands on the loose waistband of her jeans and pushed them down. Her panties followed. Dante kissed her navel, then traced his tongue in a downward path, toward the small patch of curls at her groin. With one hand, he lifted her thigh, spreading her open.
“Do you want me to kiss you here?” he asked, pressing his mouth to her hipbone. His dark head moved lower, to the sensitive skin of her inner thigh. “How about here?”
“Please,” she gasped, her spine arcing as heat roared through her.
“I think,” he said, moving off the sofa and positioning himself between her slack legs, “that you want me to kiss you…here.”
The first press of his mouth to her sex took her breath away. He kissed her deeper then, using his tongue on her, driving her wild. Tess’s pleasure spun higher, tighter. She didn’t know it was possible to feel this kind of need, but now that she was burning with it, there was only one thing that could sate it.
“Please,” she said, her voice sounding broken and thick. “Dante, please…”
“Do you want me inside you, Tess? Because that’s where I want to be right now. I want to be driving into you, feeling all of your wet heat milking my cock dry.”
Oh, God. He was going to make her come just thinking about it.
“Yes,” she managed to croak. “God, yes. That’s what I want.”
He drew back and stripped off his shirt. Tess opened her eyes, watching him through heavy lids as his muscles bunched and flexed in the dim light of her office. His chest was bare, sculpted like something out of Roman myth, and decorated with an amazing pattern of tattoos that tapered down the ridge of his firm stomach and beneath the waistband of his pants.
At least, she thought they were tattoos. Through her desire-soaked eyes, the geometric designs seemed to change colors as she stared at him, the lines muting from deep wine red to purplish blue and oceanic green.
“Your skin is beautiful,” she said, as curious as she was awed. “God, Dante…your tattoos…they’re incredible.”
She glanced up at his face and thought she saw something flash like amber in his eyes. And when his lips curved into a smile, his mouth seemed fuller somehow.
Dante unfastened his black pants and pulled them off. He wasn’t wearing anything under them. His sex sprang free, huge and erect, as breathtaking as the rest of him. To her surprise, the beautiful pattern of tattoos continued all the way down here, curling around the root of his erection like adoring, multihued fingers. Thick veins ridged the length of his long shaft, which was crowned with a broad head, as supple and dark as a plum.
She could have looked at him forever, but then he reached over to her desk and doused the light. Tess mourned the darkness that hid him, but an instant later his heat was covering her and she let her hands explore everything her eyes could no longer see.
He pressed her down beneath him, parting her thighs with his pelvis as he moved into position between her legs. His sex was hard, so hot, as he wedged it between her folds, just teasing her with the length of him, making her crave him even more.
“Dante.” Her breath heaved out of her, she was so ready for him, so needful of him. It took immense focus to break from the havoc he was wreaking on her senses and think rationally for a second. “Dante, wait. I’m…I’m on the pill, so I…but maybe we should—”
“It’s okay.” He kissed her as his erection nudged the mouth of her core. His tongue swept between her lips, the taste of her own juices a musky sweetness that lingered on his tongue. “You’re safe with me, Tess. I promise