Her response is to peel her shirt over her head, then pull down the zipper at her hip, and push her skirt down her legs, leaving her in only a pale-yellow bra. Goddamn. She never put her underwear back on. Are they still on the floor of my truck? Christ, I hope so. Then I’ll have a keepsake of this night.
“Go on,” I urge, and she obeys, popping the front clasp of her bra, and soon, that joins the rest of her clothing on the floor.
Fuck, she’s gorgeous. A pagan goddess worthy of worship.
Her elegant neck slopes down to delicate shoulders and firm breasts with their dark brown nipples that fill my hands like they were created for them. With an adorable, slightly rounded belly and toned, lovely legs, she’s any man’s vision of a sensual, beautiful woman. And then there’s the softest pussy between those thighs…
The impulse to rush her and fall on her like a predator with its prey rides me hard. I want to take her in big, ravenous bites until this hunger for her is satisfied.
But another, stronger longing reverberates in me, propelling me forward, shoving me to my knees in front of her. My arms wrap around her, and I press my forehead to the smooth skin between her breasts. The musk from her recent orgasm intertwines with her natural scent, and if any company could bottle the fragrance, they would make a killing at any perfume counter. It’s sweet and alluring, a magical potion that in turns drives a man wild and makes him want to genuflect in awe and reverence.
And that’s what I am to her, though she has no idea.
A devotee.
A worshipper.
Some people might think I’m a goddamn pervert or crazier than a shithouse rat for wanting my brother’s wife. Some might even call it incestuous. But I don’t see it that way. Because in my screwed-up head, Eden was mine first. I saw her first. I claimed her even though Connor charmed her and eventually won her. So though I can’t ever have her for my own, I can at least take what is mine for a little while. Or maybe it’s all bullshit, and I’m desperate to find any way to justify fucking my dead brother’s wife.
For loving her.
Her hands tunnel through my hair and cradle my head. And that quick, lust amps up to compete with veneration. My hold on her tightens, and I turn my head, capture a nipple between my lips. A shudder shakes her, a moan drifting above my head. Her nails scratch my scalp, and I growl against her flesh, coiling my tongue around the stiff peak, and suck. She releases one of those sexy whimpers that have become my sexual currency, and I tug on the tip, grazing it lightly with my teeth before drawing on it again.
“Knox,” she whines, bending over me, pressing her cheek to the top of my head. “Oh God, please. I need…”
I already know what she needs. And switching to the other breast and licking the pebbled point, I ease a finger between her legs. Her hips buck against my hand, a cry tearing from her as I trace a circle around her clit. The rich scent of her arousal is thicker, and my mouth waters for a taste. Giving her nipple one last suck, I trail my lips down her stomach, pausing to dip inside her navel, then continuing down, nuzzling the thatch of damp curls, replacing my finger with my tongue.
Her choked scream is a symphony to my ears. But then I don’t hear anything but the dull roar in my ears as I tease and lap at that nerve-filled bundle of flesh. I groan into her sex, drowning in her flavor, the silken texture of her. I can’t help myself; I feast on her. Suckling her, stroking through her folds, nipping the swollen lips sticky with the evidence of her arousal, lowering my head to plunge my tongue inside her. I’m a starving man pulled up to a table heavy with every temptation he’s ever craved.
But I’m still hungry.
I slide a finger inside her, coating it in her wetness. I can’t resist a couple of heavy thrusts, my knuckles bumping against her folds. With a low cry, she widens her legs, granting my hand more room. But as much as I love being inside her, I want something else.
Following the path that connects her sex to her ass, I dip between her crease and lightly trace the tiny entrance there. She stiffens, her hands freezing on my head. But I don’t stop caressing her, letting her become accustomed to my touch on the place where I suspect no man has been.
“Knox?” she whispers, a quiver in her voice.
My answer is to rake my teeth over that pulsing nub and suck even as I drench my finger in her wet heat again and return to her ass. This time, I press, not entering but firmly resting my fingertip there.
Her hips roll against my mouth, a steady stream of mixed whimpers and muted screams escaping her. I don’t let up, tormenting her clit with my tongue, so when I do slip my finger into the constricted ring of muscle she only tenses up a little, and her cry of pleasure only contains a hint of pain.
I hold still, don’t slip any farther into the channel, but I don’t let up on her pussy. I tongue it hard, granting her no mercy. And as she emits a long, rumbling moan that has me throbbing, I push deeper into her.
She explodes.
She quakes against my face, riding it, her legs trembling, her torso curling over my shoulder. Between the clench of her ass, the pulsing of her clit, and her gasping sobs, I could come right here, kneeling on her bedroom floor, my face buried in the closest to heaven I’ll ever get near.
As her quaking ebbs into shivers, I finally lift my mouth from her, fighting the urge to dive back in, make her come again. And then again. Maybe she senses the struggle within me, because she weakly pushes at my head. I give in, but only because if I don’t get inside her, my dick might kill me.
I straighten, with Eden over my shoulder in a fireman’s carry. Crossing the short distance to the bed, I lay her on it. Her lashes flutter closed, her chest still rising and falling quickly, but her body is loose, relaxed.
Grabbing a fistful of my T-shirt, I jerk it over my head and drop it to the floor. My jeans and boxer briefs quickly join it, but not before I grab my wallet and remove several condoms and toss them on the bottom of the mattress. As I approach the bed, her eyes open and meet mine. A heat shimmers there, one that reflects the flames licking at me from the inside out. Wrapping my fingers around my length, I squeeze it, both easing and heightening the ache. My balls draw up, but I will the looming orgasm back from the crumbling edge.
I circle her slim ankle, then stroke my palm up the length of her leg until my fingertips graze the flesh I just devoured. Her breath catches, and her back arches, those beautiful breasts rising toward the ceiling. I tighten my grip on my flesh, the flash of pain clearing my head, shoving back the lust just enough that it keeps me from climbing on top of her, burying myself in her, and putting us both out of this beautiful misery.
Lifting a knee to the mattress, I lean over her, splaying my fingers over her stomach and gliding that hand up her abs, between her breasts, and around her throat, necklacing it. She stares at me, the fire in her chocolate gaze hotter, darker. And when I exert the slightest pressure, just the slightest, the flames are deeper. She likes it—the control, the hint of roughness, the dirtiness. Suddenly, my fist around my cock isn’t enough to hold back the conflagration of lust threatening to consume me. I need inside her, that slick, tight, wet, almost bruising embrace locked around me. Straightening, I grab a condom and make fast work of opening the wrapper and rolling the protection down my length.
“Roll over, baby,” I rasp, and with a grasp of her hip, I help her flip.
