Then, just as I was about to suggest that he bury his hard cock inside me, he slid down my body, mouthing the curve of my belly before I could suck in my stomach. He unbuttoned my jeans. I couldn’t describe the jolt I felt as his fingers brushed low on my belly and then he unzipped my jeans, pushed them down. I couldn’t take my eyes off his hands, the way his fingers stole into my lace panties, cupped my mound. God, he was going to feel how wet I was, what a slick, fevered mess I was down there. His fingers moving through my folds felt so good, so slippery and sexy that I ground my hips into him, trying to get his fingers inside me at least. I tossed my head back and forth, gripped the bedspread in my fists just to hold on to something. When he cupped my pussy, the heel of his hand pressing into my clit with a hard, relentless pressure, I started rocking instinctively. I was gasping and crying out already when he dipped his finger into my slit. My pussy convulsed around him, around that long, blunt finger as I pumped against his palm getting myself off. I screamed, coming apart with a sudden orgasm.

I didn’t expect Jeremiah to follow up that fierce orgasm by ripping my panties off with his bare hands, but I felt the rip of the lace, felt him push my quivering thighs apart and bury his face between my legs. His tongue lapped at me, tasting me, the wetness of arousal there. He rubbed my clit furiously with the pad of his thumb, working it so hard and fast. His tongue slid into me as he teased my clit mercilessly, sending me over the edge again, sobbing this time because I didn’t think I could take so much pleasure. I could die of it, of Jeremiah Leeds eating me out on my own bed. My bare legs tossed and jerked around his dark head buried between my pale thighs. It was the sexiest thing I’d ever seen, ever felt.

He licked his lips, raised his head and came to gather me in his arms. “God you taste good,” he growled.

I about died of gratitude. It was so considerate of him to give me a few minutes while I recovered from not one, but two bed-rattling orgasms. He was so tender, not at all like I expected him to be—selfish and goal-oriented. Jeremiah Leeds had hidden depths.

“I need a few minutes,” I said, my breath seeming to return to my body, which continued to tingle. I felt lit up from the inside, like all that pleasure and cherishing had made me glow.

Slowly, as I came back to myself, I stroked his chest. I pushed his shirt up to reveal the rock-hard abs I’d guessed at but never touched. He let me stroke his stomach, his chest, before he reached behind his head, grabbed his shirt and dragged it off. I had all that man, well-muscled, his body so different from mine in its shape and size and texture—all mine for the taking. My mouth watered at the thought. I ran my lips across his chest, feeling his hot skin, the crinkle of his chest hair. I rubbed my body against his, catlike, savoring the feeling of his smooth skin and his heat and hardness.

I wanted that so much, had wanted it for a long time, the yielding of my soft curves to the hard planes of his body, the relentless strength, the brutal beauty of him. I wanted to join with him in the most primitive way. I ran my hands along him, murmuring words of admiration, my mouth on his shoulder, his neck. He caught my chin in his hand and held me still to kiss me. The force of that kiss rocked me back. My shoulders were flat on the mattress, Jeremiah above me. My arms went around him, my palms savoring the hot, smooth skin of his muscled back. The heavy bulk of him pressed me deep into the bed, threatened to smother me in the best, most delicious way. I craved the weight of his body on mine, relished it on a primal level. I wriggled beneath him gloriously, feeling the bump and rub of every part of him against me.

His tongue was in my mouth and it was so sensuous and demanding and unhurried in a tormenting way. As if he had all the time in the world to explore every curve and hollow of my body. That there was no rush at all, like he had the iron control of some kind of superhuman. The sensations he made riot through my body were already driving me wild again. It took all my concentration and strength to spread my legs apart just a few inches. It was hard to focus when he was kissing me like the devil himself, wicked and slow, teasing, stroking, making me want to scream in bliss and frustration alike.

Tags: Natasha L. Black Romance