Heat surged through her like a rogue wave. That heat pooled between her legs and made her pussy pulse so intensely she almost broke the kiss in surprise.
Holy shit.
She twisted her fingers into the thermal shirt he wore under his cut. Not to hold him there or push him away, but to keep herself upright because her legs had quickly turned to rubber with how he kissed.
This man knew what the fuck he was doing.
She only knew she didn’t want him to stop.
She was so much smaller and with him now pressed against her, she felt completely engulfed. Like he could easily swallow her up and make her disappear.
For a little while, she’d be okay with that.
To help her forget some of the things that constantly weighed on her. The things that attempted to pull her under.
Put aside, even temporarily, what she was working toward. Why she was struggling so hard to be successful.
To take this moment—these moments—for herself and no one else.
For some crazy reason she wanted this man—the one now gripping her hair almost painfully, the one kissing her to the point where she wanted to simply surrender—more than any man she’d ever met before.
While that shouldn’t surprise her, how her body reacted to him did.
A groan rose from deep inside her and it had nowhere else to go but get caught in his mouth as he deepened the kiss, tilting his head even more. The hand on her hip moving up to unzip her sweatshirt and slide under her shirt.
She was braless since most of the time she only wore one on stage and only when it was part of her “outfit.” In truth, her breasts weren’t large enough to need one. And she hated those torture devices anyway.
The second his fingers grazed over her nipple, her back instinctively arched, pushing her breast deeper into his palm. She slapped her other hand over his, squeezing it, showing him what she wanted, what she needed.
He followed her lead and, even better, he circled the very tip of her nipple, like rolling a tiny pebble under the pad of his thumb.
Around and around.
Roll, roll, roll.
Holy shit, whispered through her mind.
Her clit seemed to be directly attached to her nipple and everything he did felt like he was doing the same to her down there. When he wasn’t.
Not yet.
Please.
Oh, please.
When he squeezed and kneaded her breast, then moved to the other, she was unable to stop another groan from filling his mouth.
Then one more.
Her body was on fire. She was the tinder and he the match.
When he combined her moan with one of his own, wetness slipped from her and trickled along her heated skin. She needed her jeans off. She needed to feel his skin against hers.
She might die if she didn’t get that. And soon.
Please.
Oh, please.
She didn’t want to waste time on kissing, but she also didn’t want him to stop. She’d never been kissed like this before, as if he was trying to consume her.
But he did stop. He separated their mouths and pressed his forehead to hers, panting out a shaky, “Witchcraft.”
Witchcraft? What did he mean?
She didn’t get a chance to ask because he stepped back, yanked her around like she was no more than the weight of a feather, grabbed a fistful of her hair and jerked her head to the side, planting his lips on her neck.
How could something so simple stoke the flames already licking at her into a roaring wildfire?
Keeping a hold of her hair, he worked the button on her jeans free and slid down the zipper, his fingers grazing along her heated skin as he did so, pulling another moan from her.
Then he was there… Touching her slick and swollen flesh, which pulsed with every beat of her heart.
An unexpected shudder overtook her. Simply from his touch. From his finger circling her clit, him sucking on the side of her neck. From the weight of his erection now pressed into her back.
Even though her jeans were tight and he didn’t have a lot of room, he managed to work his middle finger inside her.
“Goddamn witchcraft,” he murmured against her skin.
She never wanted someone inside her so badly.
Not once.
So, yes, he was right. It was witchcraft.
She closed her eyes to concentrate on what he was doing. With his hand, his mouth.
She wanted…
She needed…
“Let go,” he growled against her skin.
She shook her head slightly.
“Let fuckin’ go.”
“I… can’t.” She wanted to. Not once had she simply let herself go.
“You can. Stop holdin’ back.” His growled demand caused more goosebumps to break out along her skin.
Let him take you where you want to go.
Let him.
Trust him. He knows what he’s doing.
Even though he didn’t have a lot of room to work, his middle finger slid easily in and out of her. Over and over.
He released her hair, grabbed her breast, this time over her shirt, and twisted her aching nipple through the cotton.