Wishes in the Wind (Kingsleys in Love 2)

“Dustin …” She sobbed his name when his finger slid inside her, penetrating ever so gently, withdrawing just as slowly, the sensual caress more than she could bear. He did it again and again, and Nicole twisted wildly, frightened by the clawing tension building inside her.

“God, you’re like hot silk,” Dustin rasped, watching her face. “Soft, sleek, beautiful.” He bent, feathering kisses up the inside of her thighs to where his fingers probed, and Nicole cried out, clutching his shoulders, needing … needing.

His mouth found her, opening her to his lips and tongue in a way that made her scream, and arch, and plead with him to continue. Streaks of jagged heat raced through her, faster and faster, and everything on earth vanished beneath the unendurable ecstasy Dustin was unleashing inside her.

From far away, she heard his choked sounds of pleasure, his broken words of praise. But all she felt was his mouth, his unbearable, wonderful mouth, burning into the very depths of her, flames leaping higher and higher until they dragged her into a bottomless inferno.

The world unraveled.

Crashing pleasure, wrenching, saturating heat burst inside her, and she sobbed Dustin’s name with each racking shudder. On and on the spasms went, until she collapsed, limp and drained, her soul no longer hers but his.

Opening her eyes was a colossal effort, but she managed to at last, only to see Dustin staring down at her, his chest heaving as he dragged in air, his forehead and shoulders slick with sweat.

Their gazes locked, and Nicole knew in that moment he was battling for control, determined to stop.

“No,” she managed, reaching up to tug at his trousers. “Please … no.”

“Sweetheart …” He could barely speak. “I didn’t plan to …”

“I know.” Her fingers found him, stroked the hot, rigid length of him, her eyes begging him to continue. “I love you,” she breathed.

Her declaration was more powerful than his will.

With a strangled sound, Dustin capitulated, kicking free of his remaining clothes, lowering his body over hers until he lay in the cradle of her thighs. “Nicole.” He cupped her face, kissed her cheeks, eyes, and nose with a reverence that defied his carnal urgency. Even as his hips were urging him into her, he covered her mouth with his, his words a fervid whisper that permeated her soul. “I love you … God, I love you.” His hands slid down to her hips. “You can’t imagine.”

“But I can.” Instinctively, she raised her knees to hug his flanks, wrapped her arms about his back. “Like this?” she murmured.

“Yes.” The word was ripped from his chest. Head thrown back, he pressed into

her, opening her body and possessing her until the beauty of it nearly made her weep. “How can anything feel so good?” he rasped. “God, how can any woman be so perfect?”

Nicole was lost in the same wonder as he. Nothing had prepared her for this exquisite feeling, this utter possession, and she reveled in the miracle of Dustin’s body entering hers, melding them into one. Her eyes slid closed, her body softening, opening, sheathing him in its depths. She felt pressure, pressure that intensified into pain, but she didn’t pull away, somehow sensing that beyond that pain was the most breathtaking miracle of all.

“Derby.” Dustin must have felt it, too, for he froze, his whole body trembling with the cost of delay. “You’re so small. So tight. I can’t bear to hurt you.”

Her eyes opened, and she drew his mouth down to hers. “Hurt me?” she repeated incredulously. “If you stop, I’ll die.” Her palms glided over his back, down to his buttocks, and she arched, urging him into her.

“Nicole.” He shouted her name, thrusting deep, tearing her maidenhead and filling her to bursting.

How could pain feel so beautiful?

“Dustin,” she whispered, an awed breath of sound, and she held herself utterly still for one breathless instant, memorizing every sensation defining this once-in-a-lifetime moment. Then, kissing his shoulder, she shifted to take him deeper into herself.

Dustin shuddered heavily, eased away, then pressed forward, burying himself inside her again. “The pain … is it …”

“Heaven,” she managed.

Groaning, he repeated the motion, his hands gliding beneath her legs to lift them higher around him. She complied, enveloping him inside and out, wanting, aching, needing, more than she ever dreamed possible.

Her inner muscles caressed him, splintering the final vestiges of his control.

With a harsh growl, Dustin took over, surrendering at last to his primitive need to possess her, totally, thoroughly, unendingly. His thrusts became urgent, savage, taking all she had, giving all he was.

Their bodies moved in wild unison, arching and falling in cadence to the relentless pounding of their hearts. The escalating tension reignited in Nicole’s loins, building and building until she thought she’d fly into a million scattered fragments. She clung to Dustin, begging him for things that would mortify her later, but for now were as necessary to her as breathing. In answer, he gripped her bottom, hauling her into his thrusts, opening her wider, more fully, with each motion, circling his hips until the friction on her—in her—was too excruciating to bear.

She reached her limit, dangled … and fell.

The contractions erupted, each wrenching spasm more potent than the last, gripping Dustin and drawing him into her core. Nicole cried out, shattering, dying, at the very instant that Dustin went rigid, shouting her name with a fervor that pierced her heart. His grip became bruising, crushing her to him with the frenzy of a drowning man. And then he exploded, pouring into her with great, pulsing bursts of release, seeking her womb in an inherent need to pour his seed as deep inside her as possible, to give her the very essence of himself.