Her sultry gaze burned into him now, and it was an effort to hold himself back from kissing her, but he made himself pick up another crayon and begin drawing. More whorls and lines, radiating out from the first ones, this time travelling over her shoulders and down her arms.
“Ciara would have enjoyed this,” she said. “If she’d had a partner.”
“She had a few boyfriends in the Army, didn’t she?” He picked up a gold crayon and drew some stars on her hands.
“Yes, nothing serious though. She was waiting for Mr. Right. It’s sad to think he’ll never meet her now, whoever he was.”
Niall nodded, but didn’t reply. They’d started the bucket list idea to honor Ciara, but he didn’t want to think about his sister now. He’d loved her, and he was sorry she was gone, but tonight he wanted to concentrate on the woman before him and not think about the past or the future, just concentrate on the present.
As he worked and Bic sang, a sense of calm contentment settled over him. Outside, it was growing dark and summer was coming to an end, but here inside it was still warm and sensual, and with the promise of lovemaking to come he was content to sit there and play with her as long as she’d let him, keen to draw out the evening and prolong the magic.
After drawing down her arm, he lifted her hand in his, turned it over, and placed his lips in the center of her palm. She shivered.
“Cold?” he asked.
She shook her head and moistened her lips.
He was turning her on. Heat flooded him, and he slipped a hand behind her neck and pulled her closer so he could kiss her. His lips brushed across hers, a sensual caress rather than a hungry kiss, and when he touched his tongue to her lips, she opened her mouth to allow him entry. Her tongue slid against hers, sexy and erotic, and she sighed as he deepened the kiss.
He wanted to put down the paints, push her back onto the floor, and kiss her senseless, but if he did that she wouldn’t get a chance to paint him, and he didn’t want to rush things. He pulled back and picked up the crayon again, and she relaxed onto the cushion, her breasts rising and falling from her rapid breaths as she glanced at his boxers and obviously spotted his erection.
He raised an eyebrow. “You’re surprised?”
“Not at all,” she said. “I was wondering if I could incorporate it into my painting.”
He drew down her other arm. “Like make it part of an elephant’s head?”
“I was thinking about doing some kind of sci-fi scene and turning it into a light sabre.”
He laughed, picking up her other hand and doodling over the back and along her fingers. Swapping crayons, he began coloring in some of the shapes he’d drawn.
Genie closed her eyes for a while, and he hoped she was enjoying the sensations of his hands on her skin, the tickle of the crayon as he filled in the gaps. But eventually she opened her eyes, watching him. He said nothing, enjoying her quiet attentiveness. He could see why Billie had included this in the couples’ course. It was incredibly intimate, and such a wonderful way of discovering each other’s bodies.
He finished her shoulders and arms, then spent a while on her torso, tracing around her breasts in large swirls of rainbow colors. After a while, he ran a finger down her arm. “Are you sure you’re not cold? You’ve got goose bumps.”
“It’s the way you’re looking at me and touching me,” she said softly, completely taking him by surprise. “It makes me want to cry.”
He looked up and met her eyes for a long, long while. There was so much they needed to say to each other, but this wasn’t the moment. He wasn’t sure what her reaction would be, and he didn’t want to spoil the evening if one of them had gotten the wrong idea. There would be plenty of time to talk later. For now, they had to concentrate on the task at hand.
Still, her words filled him with a warm glow.
He picked up a crayon and handed it to her. “Your turn. Then I’ll do your back.”
She swallowed and dropped her gaze to his body.
He sat relaxed with his hands in his lap as she began drawing. She started on his left shoulder and drew patterns down his arms, joined them up across his breastbone, and continued down his ribs. There was something mesmerizing about the process, and also something incredibly erotic as well. As she trailed the crayon over his skin, she let the back of her fingers touch it, apparently enjoying the contact.
In between swapping crayons and shifting positions, they sipped their wine, listened to the music, and exchanged slow, languid kisses. When she’d finished painting his torso, Niall took the crayons and drew down the tops of her thighs, around her knees, and over her calves, and then she did the same to him.
He encouraged her not to look at the patterns he’d drawn, telling her she could get the full effect at the end. When he turned her around and began painting her back, he wondered if she could tell that he was writing something, but even when she risked a sneaky peek over her shoulder, he didn’t think she could see the words.
By now it was completely dark outside. Anyone walking through the garden would be able to see them, but the lawns were empty, and there was something sensual about the encroaching darkness and the possibility of being visible that heightened his growing arousal.
At one point, Genie said she was going to turn off the main light, but Niall stopped her. “We’re supposed to wait until we’re finished,” he said and turned his back so she could draw on it.
She was obviously puzzled, but she didn’t say anything and sat close so that when she leaned forward, her breasts brushed against his back.
She drew out a pattern first with a finger, then pressed her lips to his skin before following with the crayons. Niall sighed at the first kiss and hung his head, loving her tender touch as she kissed across his shoulders and down over his shoulder blades before outlining them with color.
Finally, there were only their faces left to paint. They sat close and finished off the wine, then he picked up the red crayon—worn down to a stub. He pressed his lips to hers, then moved back and drew the paint across her skin. It was difficult sitting so close to her and yet not touching her. Her lips were only an inch or two from his, and he’d had an erection for so long it was making him ache. He wanted her, wanted to feel her lips on his, to slide inside her, and he wasn’t sure how much longer he could wait.
When he’d done, she painted his face. Avoiding the five o’clock shadow that darkened his cheek and jaw, she concentrated around his eyes, and kissed him when she’d finished. His tongue danced with hers, exploring her mouth with slow and sensual thrusts, and by the time he eventually moved back, his whole body thrummed with desire.
“Okay,” he whispered. “Time to turn off the lights.”
He pushed himself to his feet, took her hand, and helped her rise. Her knee had grown stiff sitting in that position, and she limped a little as she walked with him to the switch. She watched him place his hand on it, looking puzzled, obviously wanting to investigate his painting before he turned the light off.
He flicked the switch.
Both of them gasped, even though he knew what was going to happen.
The whole room shimmered. The under-the-ocean scene on the walls had been painted with luminous paint, and the corals and ferns, the beautiful multi-colored fish, all lit up brightly in the darkness.
Genie limped to the bedroom door and he followed her and stared inside, stunned at the sight of the night sky landscape. The walls were painted with the aurora australis—the southern equivalent of the northern lights, and the hundreds of stars and the large full moon shone white against the dark background.
She turned and looked at him, her eyes widening as she realized the paints they had been using were also luminous. Every swirl, circle, and star they’d drawn on each other glowed.
“Wow.” Her jaw dropped like a cartoon character’s, and her eyes were filled with wonder.
Niall took her hand and led her over to the full length mirror by the front door. She stood in front of it
and studied his handiwork, her mouth remaining open.
He moved closer to her and dropped a kiss onto her shoulder. He’d covered her entire body with hearts. Small ones, large ones, of all colors and sizes, they glowed in a stunning multi-colored display from the roots of her hair to her toes. Even her face bore them, a spray of tiny hearts that started at one corner of her left eye and continued across her cheeks and around her mouth.
She looked at her side, swallowing hard as she saw that in the darkness, all her scars had vanished, and the only things visible were more hearts and flowers he’d drawn down her thigh, growing out of a central curving vine that wrapped around her leg.
Finally, she turned to look over her shoulder at her back, and he heard her sharp inhalation. He’d drawn one big heart shape, and he’d filled it with letters that spelled his name over and over again, most of them written back-to-front so she could read them in the mirror. And in the middle, he’d written one other word in capitals. MINE.
She stared at it for ages. What was she thinking? He’d branded her as surely as when he’d given her the hickey, marking her out as his property, telling her and everyone else that she was his.
Finally, he could wait no longer. “What do you think?”
“I love it.” Her large eyes glowed almost as much as the luminous paint.
He twisted to look at his own back and laughed. She’d painted lots of red lips across it, following the trail of where she’d pressed her own lips to his skin.
Taking her in his arms, he kissed her, harder this time, letting the passion that had simmered beneath the surface flow through him. She moaned against his mouth, lifting her arms around his neck, and he groaned as she moved her hips against his, pressing against his eager erection. Her tongue plunged between his teeth, firing him up, and when he moved a hand between her legs, he found her already wet and slippery, more than ready for him.
In seconds, he rid himself of the boxers and slipped her panties down her legs, and then he led her over to the small dining table and pulled out a chair. Where his jeans were hanging over one of the other chairs, he took his wallet out of the pocket, flipping it open to take out a condom, then sat on the chair.
“Come here,” he said, and held out a hand.
Chapter Thirty-One
Genie stood beside Niall, gathering what he wanted when he tugged her knee. Lifting one leg across his lap, she sat astride him. He rolled on the condom, and then without any further discussion, he raised her, maneuvered her into the right position, and lowered her down.
She dropped her head back as he slid into her, filling her up. “Oh, Jesus.” He felt magnificent, thick and hard, and she groaned as she stretched to accommodate him.
The speed of his passion had taken her by surprise. He’d aroused her gradually over the course of the last hour or so, careful to back off every time she came close to losing control, and his kisses had been languorous and sensual. Now, though, when she lowered her head and kissed him, his mouth became insistent and demanding, his hands tight on her hips as he thrust up into her.
“Fuck, you feel good,” he muttered, his voice a low growl. “I want you, Gin. I’ve wanted you for hours.” He claimed kisses from her in between his sentences, his hands travelling over her body, stroking and arousing her as they went. “I’ve had to fight with myself to slow down, when all I’ve really wanted to do is throw you onto the bed and take you, hard.”
“Oh…” How come he could make her dizzy just from his words?
He cupped her breasts and lifted them to fasten his mouth on first one nipple, then the other, sucking and then stroking with his tongue. Genie arched her back, instinctively pushing them toward him, her hips keeping up an insistent rhythm.
She tugged at the band that held her hair back and threw it onto the floor. Sliding his hand into her hair, he pulled her head down to kiss her again. She wanted to drive him to the edge and watch him tip over, because there was nothing more glorious than seeing him climax and knowing she was the one who’d taken him there.
His hands slid to her hips and he held her tightly as if trying to slow down her rapid thrusts, but Genie was past taking it slow. Needing him to lose control, she sank her hands into his hair to tug his head to one side, kissed up the stubble on his jaw to his earlobe, and bit it.
His body jerked. “Fuck!”
Catching his face between her hands, she kissed him. “I want you too,” she whispered, and thrust her tongue in his mouth. She pulled back to look into his hot, hungry eyes. “I need you, Niall. Fuck me. Hard as you like. I want you to. I want you to lose it with me.”
His breath left him in a rush, an exhalation of submittal, and before she could speak again, he stood and lifted her, walked forward a couple of paces, and lowered her again. Her butt met the cold surface of the table and she squealed, but he just laughed and pushed her onto her back.
Wrapping her legs around his waist, she clenched her internal muscles. He growled and leaned forward over her, supporting himself on both hands and looking down at her with a feral glint in his eye.
“I think you were sent here to drive me mad,” he said, his voice hoarse.
“And I won’t be happy until I do.” She stretched out lazily, arms above her head. The wine was starting to have an effect, and the glowing scene on the walls and the patterns all over his body made her feel as if she’d taken a hallucinogenic drug. She felt oddly surreal, as if she were dreaming.
He began to move inside her, slow, lazy thrusts, pulling almost out of her each time before sliding back in, all the way to the hilt.
“Harder,” she begged him, but he just shook his head and smirked.
Pushing himself upright, he cupped her breasts, then smoothed his hands down over her stomach and hips. Moving up her knees, he spread them wide, then pulled his hips back and withdrew completely.
His lazy, sexy gaze perused her for a moment as he admired the view. Her instinct was to scold him and cover herself up, but she made herself lie still and relax, opening up to him. His hot eyes flicked up to her face for a moment, then back down, and she watched as he stroked two fingers down the smooth skin, then turned his hand and slipped them inside her.
She caught her bottom lip between her teeth and closed her eyes. He aroused her with his fingers for a while, and she knew he was watching her. Her face warmed in response. It’s only Niall, she told herself, but that was the problem—this was the man she’d dreamed about for years, fantasizing about him doing just this to her. It made her head spin to think he was really there. She swallowed down a sudden lump that appeared in her throat and then sighed as he withdrew his fingers.
He guided the tip of his erection back between her inner lips and she held her breath as he entered her. Barely inside her, he pulled out again, and she crossed her arms over her face, her whole body aching for release.
“Niall…”
Her plea turned into a deep groan as he continued to tease her entrance, his breathing growing deeper and more ragged. He pushed her knees wider, and she slipped a hand beneath each one to hold her thighs open for him. He slid inside her so easily that she knew she was swollen and wet. She couldn’t believe she was so turned on, and he’d hardly touched her clit.
“Jesus.” He paused, chest heaving. “You’re so fucking beautiful. I can see you closing around me.”
“I can’t…hold on much longer.” Her orgasm hovered in the wings, her whole body humming with pleasure. He looked amazing, towering over her with his rainbow skin, but he seemed intent on going as slow as possible, and that wasn’t what she wanted, not any longer. “Niall, for the love of God. Fuck me already. I’m going to come like a train.”
He gave a short, sharp laugh. “Okay, honey. Get ready.” He shifted his stance, and then before she could prepare herself, he gave a swift, hard thrust.
She cried out, but he didn’t stop, setting up a fast pace and grinding hard against her mound. Each thrust brushed across her clit, and his hips had only pumped a d
ozen times before her climax hit her. She tucked her chin into her chest and screwed up her eyes, gasping out a series of oh, oh, ohs as she clenched around him. The feeling was amazing, hot, powerful pulses right in the heart of her, and when she finally fell back onto the table, it was with utter exhaustion.
Niall leaned over her, bracing his hands either side of her shoulders, and he looked deep into her eyes as he gave a final few thrusts. His expression was triumphant, maybe even a little smug, but there was also love in his eyes, and he kept his gaze fixed on hers as his body tightened and he swelled inside her. His eyes closed briefly, then opened again, slightly unfocussed, as his hips jerked with each pulse.
He continued to hold her gaze as his body calmed, and she stared back, transfixed, the paint on his face making her feel as if she’d just screwed an ancient Celtic warrior. It felt as if she’d played a bigger part in his climax than just being the body beneath him. He’d not come into just any woman—he’d reached into her soul and claimed her as surely as he’d branded her with that word on her back, MINE.
His breathing grew more regular, and the intensity in his gaze faded a little.
“Fuck,” he said.
Laughter bubbled up inside her, releasing some of the tension. “Yeah. Well said.”
He pushed up and withdrew from her, disposed of the condom, then pulled her to a sitting position and wrapped his arms around her.
“You’re amazing,” he said in her ear.
“I just lay there. You’re the one who did all the work.”
“True. I am magnificent.”
She thumped his back. “Modesty becomes you.”
He let out a long, slow breath and kissed her hair. “No woman has ever made me feel like that. You are exceptional.”
A Secret Between Friends: A New Zealand Sexy Beach Romance (Treats to Tempt You Book 6) Page 22