“You want to stay the night?” he asked.
“Yes.”
“You want me to tear off your clothes?”
My stomach clenched. “Yes.”
He brought his lips mere inches from mine.
“You want me to make you come so hard you’ll be screaming my name?”
“God, yes,” I whispered shakily.
Connor ravaged my mouth, kissing me so roughly I felt as if it might bruise my lips. I moaned into his mouth, loving the idea of him leaving evidence of his passion.
Even in his previous fervor to devour every inch of me he’d still always been gentle, but this kiss was ferocious. It was like a wild animal let out of its cage, as if he had no restraint left in him.
He untucked my blouse from my skirt and ran his hands up my naked back until he found the clasp of my bra. With deft fingers he unsnapped it and, finding that it was strapless, peeled it off and threw it to the ground unceremoniously.
He went for the buttons on my blouse. I reached up to help but he’d already fisted the material in both hands. With a low growl and a vicious tug, he tore my shirt open, buttons popping off and flying away, as if he couldn’t stand to have me covered a second longer.
Liquid heat flowed between my legs at his unbridled lust, loving his display of dominance.
My heaving breasts were bare to his gaze. He practically licked his lips like a hungry wolf before diving down to suck a nipple into his mouth.
I cried out and buried my hands in his hair, pulling him closer, urging him on. He moved from one breast to another, sucking and licking until I was a squirming mess.
As much as I’d cherished the memory of our night together, it was nothing compared to the real thing. It was as if my brain wasn’t capable of remembering exactly how good this had felt, as if it were only able to recall the slightest wisp of sensations.
Every touch sent my head reeling, shutting down any protests it may have made. There was no tiny voice in my head admonishing me. There was only me, and Connor, and the pleasure he was giving me.
His fingers found the zip of my skirt and ripped it down. I lifted my hips and let him peel it off, taking my panties with it.
It was only once I was bare from the waist down with my ripped shirt hanging off my arms that he stopped torturing my nipples and began kissing down my chest. He slid off the sofa and knelt down on the floor in front of me, spreading my thighs to crawl between them. His lips left a burning trail down my stomach, to my belly button, then lower.
My inner muscles clenched, anticipating his next move. He bypassed the apex of my thighs, making me groan in disappointment. Instead, he kissed his way down my hip to the soft skin of my inner thighs with light nipping bites.
I dug my nails into the sofa cushions to stop myself from grabbing his head and positioning him exactly where I wanted him. Where I needed him.
The fact that Connor was able to make me feel this way, so desperate and wanton, was a revelation. I prided myself on being level-headed and reasonable, never one to give in to my baser desires. But with Connor, every single one of my reservations went out the window.
He worked his way down my legs, lifting my feet until they were over his shoulders so he could kiss my calves and ankles. Then he worked his way back up again, slowly, deliberately, driving me crazy.
Connor’s fingers, his hands, his lips, his tongue — they were like a wondrous sort of magic, as if he’d cast a spell on me.
Just as I was close to begging, he removed his mouth from my skin, planted his face between my legs and licked a slow, torturous line between my lower lips.
I moaned, my head tipping back to stare sightlessly at the ceiling as my neck turned to rubber.
He did it again, another long, hot gliding lick. This time he flicked at my clit with the tip of his tongue, making me flail and gasp. He hummed in amusement and did it again, then again. I let out a groan of pleasure with every press of his tongue.
I had to wonder just how many nights he’d been thinking of doing exactly this, how many evenings had been spent imagining this very thing. He seemed to be relishing every noise I made, every cry and squeak.
My hip bucked unconsciously, trying to get closer, encouraging him to keep going, to give me more and more. He obeyed my silent command, working me over until my thighs were trembling and my insides were throbbing.
“Connor, please,” I gasped. “I need—”
He thrust two fingers into me, the rough scratch of his skin feeling delicious against my aching inner walls. I let out a low moan as I pulsed around him, squeezing down with every push and pull.
