In the mirror, Whitney helplessly noticed how his silken hair shone dark sable in the warm light from above as he drew her earlobe lightly into his mouth, and she could feel the passion rising inside her like the hottest fire, clouding her thoughts. “If I didn’t love you already, right now I’d be . . . unraveled for you,” he said in a hot whisper that caused a shudder to run down her spine.
She felt the heady sensation of his teeth lightly grazing her skin, then he raised his head to trap her gaze once more, his eyes electric. “I’d be undone,” Andrew continued, as he fingered the collar of her shirt with his thumb. Then he opened a button.
She caught her breath.
He opened a second, and a third. Her breath stopped being sufficient, her body going hot. He finished flicking the last button open, then he eased the fabric apart, baring her to the mirror. Her skin tingled with every part that he revealed to his stare, and she was dismayed by the magnitude of her own need for him. A moan slipped through her lips as she closed her eyes and leaned weakly back against him, his strong body her wall. The only thing holding her upright was him, the man who’d always supported her.
“Look at me,” he murmured.
But she squeezed her eyes shut tighter, her breasts already throbbing as the air caressed her nipple tips.
“Look at me, please,” he insisted.
She forced her eyes open, and the first thing she saw was him. His face raw with need. His eyes blazing hot as one of his hands trailed an intimate path between the partings of his shirt, up and down, up and down, caressing.
“Tell me . . . this isn’t the most beautiful woman you’ve ever seen . . .”
Clinging to his powerful stare while he rubbed his thumb deliciously around her belly button, she wanted to tell him that she might be able to say anything if she were looking at the woman.
But she only had eyes for the man.
The most beautiful man she’d ever seen . . .
Stoking the most terrifying passions within her with a mere look, a mere touch, a mere word of encouragement.
Her eyes widened as he eased one of her arms out of the shirt, and then the other, and then cupped the curves of her bare shoulders in his hands as she stood, naked, before him and the mirror. His voice was terse with arousal. “Do you see what I see?”
He kissed her with his eyes, studying every inch of her body through the mirror’s reflection. Suddenly she saw the same thing he did. Her face soft with desire, her eyes dewy, her breasts round and full, the nipples beaded with arousal. Her hips were round and sensual, her pussy bare and glistening for him. She saw panting breaths and wide, dilated pupils. She saw parted lips and a woman burning for her man.
Sensations spread through her as she watched him splay one large, tanned hand over the creamy, flat expanse of her abdomen. The move was sexually proprietary as he pressed her back against his large frame. “This woman . . .” he whispered, as he dragged his hand downward, heating up her skin underneath, “is the woman of my dreams . . .” He eased his two longest fingers along the turgid lips of her sex, then he cupped her entirely with his warm palm and eased his middle finger inside her throbbing body.
A melting sensation spread down her thighs, and her entire body began to shake as he penetrated.
“The woman of my fantasies . . .”
She leaned back and moaned softly, feeling his erection through his jeans rasping against her bare bottom.
“I will protect her . . .”
His nose traced circles around her temple as he caressed the walls of her sex with that lone finger, and her head fell back on a moan as he added a second finger.
“Do anything for her . . .”
She rolled to his hand and turned her head, helplessly moaning out his name. His mouth clamped on her.
She felt him fumble behind her, heard the rasp of a zipper. Then something soft and silky and hard rubbed between her ass cheeks. She mewed and pushed back against him, aching for him to fill her, ease her, keep her safe like he always had, love her like she craved him to. Make her forget, make her forgive.
“Ask for it,” he said, as she anxiously pushed her bottom back against his erection.
“Fuck me, please, Andy. Fuck me until I forget.”
“No,” he rasped in admonishment.
He stroked the length of his hardness along the fissure of her bottom and continued teasing her. Tempting her with his hardness, his authority over her body.
“I already fucked you tonight, Whitney.” He slid his hand up her neck, cupping the sides of her face and pulling her around to give him access to her mouth. He grazed his teeth along her neck, groaning as he headed for her mouth. “Ask me to make love to you.”
She mewed softly, overcome by her feelings of need and desire. “Make love to me.”