The woman had no idea just how hot she ran, inflaming him, making him want to hear her scream out his name as she came.
The dress had to go.
His blood surged thick and hot as he set her back, dropping to his knees as he reached up and took hold of the thin, black ribbon laced up her bodice. One tug and it was loose.
Looking up, Kirk locked his gaze onto Molly’s as he slid the ribbon free with deliberate slowness, watching her mouth part slightly, satisfaction filling him at how moist, red and swollen her lips were from his kisses.
God, did she even realise what a sex kitten she looked like right then? That glorious brown hair with the golden highlights tumbling around her shoulders to curl down her back, her cheeks flushed, her eyes backlit with desire, green pools of passion. The dress had slipped off her shoulders, the cap sleeves sliding down to catch on her elbows as the bodice slid open and down, freeing her breasts which, God yes, were lovingly cupped in a sinful lavender bra etched with black lace.
How could a woman look so demure yet be so secretly naughty? It was Molly Travers to a T. His little siren.
His shaft thickened, blood pulsing hotly in his groin to fill it, making the confines of his jeans almost painful.
Not yet.
As he knelt at her feet, he kept their gazes locked while he stripped off his shirt, throwing it carelessly somewhere, he didn’t really know and cared less. Her eyes darkened as she moistened her lips.
Oh yeah, his little kitten liked what she saw. He’d never been vain, never cared that women sometimes openly ogled him. He knew his body pleased women, knew they liked it.
But this was Molly seeing him, and that it made it so different, so intimate.
Coming up onto his knees, he skimmed his fingertips along the edges of the bra, the lace a little prickly in comparison to her skin. Her nipples were hard little nubs pushing against the material, seeking his touch. His tongue.
Jesus, yes.
It was a simple matter to reach around her and unhook the bra, drawing it forward.
She caught it at the last minute, bending her arms, hugging her hands beneath her chin.
The sudden flash of vulnerability in her eyes caught at his heart. “Molly,” he said gently, “you’re beautiful.”
“No,” she whispered. “You are. I’m…”
“Perfect.”
She glanced away, bit her lip. “Sorry.”
Pushing to his feet lithely, he settled his hands on her shoulders, rested his forehead against her’s. “Look at me.”
The heavy lashes lifted, she met his gaze. Uncertainty was in the green depths, a touch of self-consciousness.
“It’s me, Molly. You trust me, don’t you?”
She nodded.
“Then trust me on this.”
She nodded again, but he could feel her turmoil.
“Your body is perfect. I love curves, love a woman who looks like a woman. Your body is built for me, a perfect match. Where I’m hard, you’re soft. Where I’m soft, you’re hard.”
“You have soft spots?” Her smile was faint but humour was evident in her eyes.
“Definitely not right now.” Taking her hand, he rested her palm against his jeans where his shaft pressed so urgently. “When I’m around you, I’m always hard. This is what you do to me, Molly. Only you.”
She didn’t try to pretend to be surprised, which only endeared her to him all the more.
“Okay.” Taking a deep breath, she smiled up at him. “Okay.”
“Okay.” He smiled a little. “And actually, you don’t have any hard spots. You’re just soft and sweet.”
“Like a marshmallow.”
“I love marshmallows. They’re my favourite lolly.”
“I thought that was lollipops?”
“Kitten, the only place I like them is in your mouth. Watching you suck and play with those just does my head in.” He grinned. “Not to mention give me a hard-on.”
Her smile this time was genuine, humour dancing in her eyes.
Gently, he kissed her. “Let yourself go, kitten. I’ll catch you.”
“Okay,” she breathed into his mouth.
This time she didn’t shy away while he slid the bra from her arms, freeing her breasts into his waiting palms. He kept kissing her as he weighed the heavy globes in his hands, the warm mounds with the hardened tips that overflowed his palms so deliciously.
Breaking their kiss, he looked reassuringly at her, the trust in her eyes and the slight lift of her chin making his heart almost ache with wanting her. God, he could just crush her to him and hold her forever.
Her deep, slightly shaky intake of breath brought his gaze down to her breasts in his hands, and he groaned. Jesus, they were beautiful. Heavy, natural, the teardrop shape tipped with nipples hard with desire.
Cupping them, he flicked his thumbs across the hard nubs, making them pebble and Molly gasp.
“Beautiful, Molly.” Lowering her breasts, he laid his hands on her waist, slid his palm down the silky skin to where her dress pooled around her hips.
He continued the slow slide, pushing the dress over the generous hips, catching the waistband of her lavender panties and pushing them downwards with the dress.
Once over her hips, the clothes dropped around her ankles.
She was naked.
She didn’t try to hide herself, didn’t try to act coy.
Shifting his eyes to her’s, he held her gaze, taking her wrists in his hands to spread her arms outwards as he trailed his gaze downwards, over the bountiful breasts to the indent of her surprisingly small waist, accentuating the generous curve of her hips, the roundness of her thighs.
And between her thighs, sheltering her secrets, the thatch of brown curls. Such an innocent little triangle that hid heady, hot, decadent pleasures.
“Beautiful.” His voice was hoarse, rough, a touch rasping. “So damned beautiful, Molly.”
His blood flowed thick and slow through his veins. His mouth watered for a taste of those ripe nipples. His shaft ached to nuzzle through those tantalizing curls, to burrow between her woman’s lips and find the entrance to her body, to slide inside and bury deep within her.
Without thought, acting on instinct, he swooped hungrily on her, his ardour taking control, his hands hooking under her arms to jerk her against him, his mouth crushing down on her’s, kissing her hotly, hedonistically, plundering her mouth mercilessly.
Eagerly she pressed against him, taking what he gave, encouraging him with the little moans that escaped her mouth when he let them.
She followed him so blindly it was easy to turn her to the bed, crowding her back with his body until she nearly toppled back onto it. He caught her easily, controlled her fall back, whipped his arm beneath her knees and moved her smoothly to lie on her back on the bed.
Straightening, he just stood looking down at her, at all those lush curves laid out for him like a banquet for him to feast on.
“Jesus, Molly,” he said huskily. “You’re mine.” Unsnapping his jeans, he slowly drew the zip downward, the pressure easing only slightly.
Toeing off his shoes, he kicked them aside before hooking his thumbs in his jeans and slowly dragging them down his legs, letting Molly see, letting her study him.
Not vanity on his part, but a sense of fairness that as he saw her naked, so she should see him. Every swell of muscle, every hard plane, his shaft that curved up against his belly in a hard, thick, throbbing column.
Catching her hungry gaze, he said softly, “No secrets, Molly. No secrets between us, ever.”
“No,” she whispered back. “No secrets.” Then she lifted her arms towards him.
It was an initiation that both touched him to his soul and fiercely fanned the fires of his ardour. Innocence and seductress combined, her open arms an invitation to come to her, the sultriness of her eyes and the slow bending of her further knee an invitation to her body.
He took both.
Leaning over her, he braced hi
s weight on his hands each side of her, swinging his body over her to settle between her thighs which parted so naturally to take him.
Now they were skin to skin, he above her, looking down into her eyes, seeing her desire, the way she looked at him, so full of trust and fire combined.
Such a hot little combination that fired his libido to a burning furnace of pure, scorching need, a fiery lick down his spine to spill into his sac, drawing him tight, a drop of seed spilling unbidden from the tip of his shaft.
Making him remember.
One hot kiss to her mouth, a deep lick that left her gasping for air, and he leaned over the side of the bed, snagging his jeans, yanking his wallet from his pocket, flipping it open one-handed as he anchored himself by gripping her hip, almost tipping them both from the bed in his impatience and making her grab the headboard with both hands to stabilize them both.
Her laugh was unexpected, husky with desire but amused, making him grin. Most women he’d bedded would never have reacted like that, but then every woman he’d ever bedded had never made him almost forget protection. He’d never needed to remember, had always been in control, clearheaded.
Molly made his thoughts scatter and his libido take over.
Pulling the condom from the wallet, he moved back onto the bed, sitting back on his knees. Shaft bobbing against his stomach, blood so thick it pulsed in his shaft with every hard beat of his heart, he ripped the wrapper open with his teeth while eyeing her.
Lying back against the pillows, all sexy, desirable and tantalizing, her eyes danced with humour and burned with passion.
Fisting the condom over his shaft, he tried to be stern but there was no disguising the carnal undertone in his voice. “Something funny, kitten?”
“Not at all, Goldie.” She was gratifyingly breathless, testament to the fact that her own arousal was more than just the moistness dappling the curls at the apex of her rounded thighs.
Those deliciously, rounded thighs.
Resting his hands just above her knees, he slid his hands slowly upwards, rewarded by the widening of her eyes. “You wouldn’t be laughing at my less than graceful acrobatics just now, would you, kitten?”
Her lips parted slightly as his fingertips grazed the curls.
Leaning forward, he pressed his thumbs through the little curls to rub lightly against the beginnings of her labia. “Kitten?”
“Y-yes?” Her breath caught. “I mean, no.”
Sliding his thumbs between the sheltering labia, he gently pulled the lips slightly apart, exposing her a little. “I think you were.”
“So were you,” she managed to choke out as he brushed the edges of his thumbs against her perineum.
“Oh, I didn’t laugh.” He pressed against her, rubbed more firmly.
Involuntarily, her hips shifted, her knees bending. “I - saw you - saw you…grin…ooohhhh…”
Glancing up, he saw her throat arch as she pressed her head back against the pillow, her fingers tangling in the doona. Oh yes, she was responsive, so wonderfully responsive.
How could any man even think to hurt her, to beat her down? To seek to dim her light, that happy, shining, sexily enchanting spirit?
The thought drove away all teasing, brought all his protectiveness surging upward, enabling him to push down his ardour, control his driving carnality which was so close to taking over and thereby taking her.
Not yet. He wanted to give her more pleasure, make her ride the waves of prurience until she crashed and fell back into his waiting arms.
Sliding down between her thighs, he settled himself, his shoulders forcing her thighs further apart. Opening her to him. Soft, pink, moist flesh, delicate skin, nerve endings so close to the surface and in such a secret spot, all just waiting for him.
Sliding his arms under her bent knees, he settled his hands on her hips, gripping firmly as he bent his head and had his first taste of her.
It exploded upon his tongue, sweet and spicy, hot, her body’s moistness that was getting her ready for him, that he’d drawn from her with his kisses, his touches, his attention.
Her body wept for him, readied for him. How could he not love the taste of her?
Her response was instantaneous, her cries filling the room, a sobbing breath as he found the little clitoris hiding, tongued it before sucking gently, strengthening it as he felt the tension climbing in her.
Leaving it with a final, sudden, hard lick that had her jolting in his hold, he licked down her perineum, flicking his tongue across the delicate tissue, making her writhe beneath his wicked ministrations. When he came to the opening of her body, he fastened his mouth to her and sucked, hard, strong.
Molly broke apart, shattered, his name sobbed out in the air as he drew her pleasure from her, easing from her opening, lightly licking her, pressing kisses to the inside of her thigh and watching over her mound as she drifted back down from her orgasm, her breasts moving with each ragged breath.
When she opened her eyes he snaked up her body, moving slowly, deliberately, letting her feel him approach. Over her mound, chest to her belly then chest to those beautiful breasts, a hot kiss to her throat, her ear, before he braced above her on his arms to look down into her face, her eyes glittering with spent passion and rising ardour from his slow, seductive path up her body. Cheeks flushed, lips so red, so swollen.
About to get more swollen.
He kissed her hard, deep, and she wound her arms around his neck, pulled him down to her, kissed him back fiercely.
God, so responsive.
Shifting slightly, he slid a hand between her thighs, found her clitoris unerringly and rubbed the little nub, loving the way Molly jolted beneath him, and just as she started whimpering, he slid his finger into her.
So tight, so hot, muscles shivering.
So close.
But not as close as him. His shaft angrily demanded release, painfully engorged, painfully erect, so hard, pulsing with need.
No more waiting.
Lifting his hips, pulling back enough for his shaft to slip between her thighs, the tip immediately prodding at her perineum as he pushed up on his arms, looking down, wanting to see her face as he entered her.
Molly gazed up at him, lips so lush, eyes such beautiful pools of desire, deep and seductive, almost haunting. Her hands wrapped around his forearms as he found the entrance to her body, tightened as he started to enter.
He tortured himself, tortured her, sliding in so deliciously slowly, loving the sensation of her cavern so tight, forced to widen for his approaching girth that kept pushing ever inward.
The walls of her womanhood spasmed, clenched tight, a whimper escaping her as he seated himself deep, so deep, the very base where his shaft met his body hard against her.
He poised there on outstretched arms, muscles bulging, a trickle of sweat running down his spine.
Finally, he was home.
“Molly,” he whispered, and then he started slowly pumping, a deliberate glide in and out of her tight sheath, the clenching of her muscles around him like a hot glove seeking to keep him in.
The wonder on her face fed his lust, the building desire in her eyes fanning the fire roiling deep in his scrotum, hot coils drawing his sac tight. His shaft throbbed, swelled, the drag of her body around him causing fire to pluck hotly at the base of his spine, needle fiery sparks down low.
His heart started to thunder as his hips fastened, his pace growing quicker, harder as he started to drive into her, never taking his gaze from her, never wanting to stop watching the fire building in her, the passion burning higher, hotter, but as pleasure turned to hedonism, he started riding her more ruthlessly.
He lost control.
Never in his life had Kirk ever lost control when with a woman.
He rutted, hips pounding into her, riding her deep into the mattress. Head flung back, teeth clenched, he shoved deep, drew out fast, shoved in deep again.
Thrusting, need clawing, fire burning, sac tight, her whimpers and moan
s of pleasure were like a match to kindling.
Mindlessly he thrust into her, hips pumping, faster, harder, driving.
Heat roiled, building, coursing through him as fingers of carnal desire raked through him, curving around his sac deep inside, stretching taunt and suddenly releasing.
As his seed exploded from him, deep in the far reaches of his mind he wished there was nothing between them, that his seed filled her and not latex, that he branded her deep inside where she’d always feel him.
Then pleasure overtook him, fiery ardour splintering him apart, raking him over red-hot coals of concupiscence, one final thrust of his hips pushing him over the edge, Molly screaming his name echoing in his ears as he shattered.
It was almost a repeat of last time. Hazily coming to, slowly regaining consciousness, unsure how long he’d been drifting on a pleasant cloud of spent rapture, but this time Molly was with him.
Lifting his head from where he’d rested it in a swirl of her hair, he looked down into her face.
Dreamily she looked up at him, a soft smile on her lips.
“Hi, kitten” he whispered.
“Hi, Goldie.”
That was all they said, all they needed to say.
Rolling off her, Kirk slipped from the bed, going to the bathroom to divest himself of the used condom and clean up. Returning, he slid in beside her, grabbing the patchwork quilt draped over the end and pulling it up over them both before cradling her into him, tucking her head under his chin, sliding one leg over her’s and cuddling her close.
She snuggled into him with a contented sigh and they fell asleep.
He’d have liked to stay like that well into the morning but dawn woke him and he sat up, careful not to wake her.
She murmured, rolling away from him before sleepily lifting her head to try and see the clock on the bedside table, quite a feat seeing as how her hair spilled across her face. “What time is it?”
Padding around to the other side of the bed, he picked up his jeans and slid them on. “Five o’clock.”
“Oohh.” Her head dropped back onto the pillow.
Grinning, he pulled his shirt on, not bothering to button it up as he searched for his shoes.
“Why are you leaving?”
Fall for You Page 26