Rock All Night (The Rock Star's Seduction 2)

I could see the side of his face change, could tell from the way his cheek pulled up that he was smiling.

“Okay,” he whispered, and nodded. “Okay. But after that…”

His voice changed to a low, throaty growl.

“…I get to do whatever I want to you.”

The tone of his voice – the sheer, sexual desire in his words – took my breath away.

I was a little afraid.

But I nodded.

And then he leaned over and kissed me.

39

We slowed it down.

Waaaaaay down.

He kissed me softly, our lips verging on swollen from our frenzied passion before. Now every kiss had a salty little sting to it that added to the luxurious pleasure of his mouth against mine.

He slowly undid my bra behind my back – and, like four years ago, he didn’t let it fall off right away. He gently pushed the strap off my right shoulder, letting it drift and tickle my skin… and then he nudged the left strap until it slid down my arm. Then he kissed my lips… and my chin… then tilted my head up with his hands… and let his tongue dance softly, lightly down my throat, to the tiny hollow between my collar bones, to the upper swell of my breasts. He kissed me, his lips moving downwards, pressing the satin of my bra down, down, until I felt his mouth hot and damp on my swollen, erect, aching nipple, and he sucked.

I moaned, and a shiver ran down the entire length of my body.

My bra dropped down my arms, baring my chest completely to him.

His fingers glided along my back – rough hands, masculine against my softness – as he moved his mouth from one breast to the other, slight wetness tracing over my skin. He took the other nipple in his mouth and stroked it with his tongue, slicking me down, making me almost cry with desire as he sucked and licked and circled and nibbled it so lightly, mixing a tiny whisper of pain with pleasure as he pressed the swollen tip between his upper teeth and his lower lip.

I pushed him away. Even in the darkness I could tell he was confused – until I started tugging at the hem of his shirt. Then he complied and lifted his arms over his head, and I peeled the cloth slowly up over his skin.

I felt the ridges of his abs, and I had to stop just to press my palms against his body, feel the hard planes and valleys of the muscles beneath my hands. Jesus. He was in even better shape than four years ago. I let my hands move up under the shirt, and I felt his pecs, massive and firm; felt the soft tickle of his chest hair; found the tight hardness of his own nipples, and tweaked the tough, tiny nubs between my fingertips, rubbing them sensuously.

He grunted, and I felt his cock strain under his pants, pressing against my leg.

It reminded me that there were other things I wanted access to, and hurried me up a little bit.

I went back to pulling his shirt up, and he helped me get it over his head, then shrugged it off. The entire time, I felt my breasts slide softly against his belly and chest, my soft curves caressing his hard muscles, and I wanted more than anything to feel him inside of me, to feel his chest grazing my nipples as he moved in and out of me, his body sliding against mine.

I moved down to his belt and undid it, faster now, forgetting the whole ‘slow things down’ mantra. As my hands worked in the dark, he put his fingers in my hair, luxuriously sifting through my curls as he planted tiny kisses on my cheeks, my temples, my eyebrows.

I was breathing hard as I undid his belt, unzipped his pants, and fumbled to pull them down. That was when I first felt it, soft yet hard, scorching hot, a tiny dab of wetness and then rock-hard pressure against my arm.

His cock. His thick, long, succulent cock.

I gasped and put my hand around it, tentative at first, then possessively.

It filled my grasp, and I remembered four years ago as I stroked him, bringing him to orgasm, feeling him expand in my hand, over and over, lightning fast, dousing my fist with hot wetness as he came.

I ran my hand up and down his entire length, feeling how swollen he was, how huge, how turned on, how near bursting.

Oh my GOD I wanted him inside me so bad.

Derek groaned and lifted my face to his, kissing me softly as my fingers slid up and down his cock. I was overjoyed to relive that fantasy from my freshman dorm, feeling his wetness slick down my palm as my skin slid over his.

He kicked off his boots, peeled off his socks, and kicked off his jeans, somehow managing to do it all while still kissing me, and me still running my circled fingers around his glorious cock. I became very aware that he was fully nude, and though I was half-naked, I was still in my skirt and boots. The feeling of power was intoxicating. It was like he was mine, MY plaything, and I let myself indulge in the fantasy as he moaned into my mouth as I stroked him, up and down, a little firmer, a little faster.

I felt his hands on my skirt, searching for the zipper, and then I heard the zzzzziiiip and felt it fall away. His hands searched out my ass and grabbed my cheeks, kneading them, pressing my hips into him, and I sighed into his mouth and kept stroking him, feeling him contract, tiny little semi-orgasms under my hand that gave me more pre-cum to wet him down with.

I felt his fingertips at the edges of my underwear, and only then did I let go of his cock.

“Wait – hold on,” I whispered, and I balanced on one foot and tugged off my boot, then pulled the other off. The entire time his hands were roving over my body, cupping my breasts, grazing my ribs, stroking the curves of my hipbones, tracing the small of my back.

Then his fingers hooked through my underwear, and I felt them drop to the floor. Then he was pressed up against me, his hot, wet cock sliding against my belly, making me want him SO badly as he pulled me to him and kissed me, his tongue softly parting my lips and searching out every secret part of me as I kissed him back.

Then, without warning, he bent down and scooped me up into the air, like a groom roughly lifting up his bride.

Make that his naked bride.

I shrieked in giddy surprise and hung onto his neck as he walked through the room. By now my eyes were adjusted to the darkness, and I could see the king-size bed. He paused long enough to tear off the duvet and the sheets, and then he softly, lovingly set me down on the clean cotton.

I lay on my back looking up at him, still standing there by the bedside – a Greek god, with deeply shadowed muscles, a powerful chest, broad shoulders, an exquisite cock standing stiff at attention, and eyes that glinted from the lights through our window.

I had never been so filled with lust and desire in my entire life.

“You said you wanted the night we should have had four years ago,” he said, his voice rumbling in the darkness.

“Yes,” I whispered, my own voice trembling.

“Do you know what I wanted to do that night? Before I made love to you?”

Before I made love to you.

I swallowed, my mouth watering. “No,” I whispered.

In answer, he knelt on the bed and lowered his body down between my legs, and used his hands to pry apart my thighs. His head dipped down, and I could see his beautiful face in the shadows, his eyes focused on mine the entire time as he lowered his lips between my legs.

“This,” he said, just before he blew my mind.

40

His lips grazed my pussy, just lightly dabbing my wet skin, enough to make my entire body shudder with pleasure – but only for a split second, and then he moved on.

He moved his lips over my landing strip, softly tickling my hair. He moved down and kissed the inside of my right thigh, then licked the hollow where my leg joined my body.

He moved slowly to my outer lips, licking my skin, always keeping to the outside of my pussy, circling around in a hot, wet circle, never going straight to where he would have brought me the most pleasure.

Then his tongue dropped down – waaaay down. Not quite to my backdoor, but halfway between…

Then licked lightly up, just until he reached my lips again…

Paused, as though he might plunge his hot, thick, wet tongue inside me –

And gave me a whisper of a touch on my wet lips, nothing more than a ghost of a kiss before he withdrew.

It was torture.

I was either going to die or come from the anticipation alone.

He kept that up, teasing me, playing with me, always looking me in the eye as he did it, until my legs were literally shaking.

“Please,” I whimpered.

“Please what?” he asked, clearly enjoying the power he held over me. He licked the ridge of my pussy – just a centimeter more to the right and he would have entered me, could have filled me up, could have caressed me deep inside with his tongue –

But he didn’t.

He pulled back and just grazed his tongue across my sopping wet lips.

“Please!”

“Please what?” he whispered, his eyes never leaving mine as his tongue just barely – barely – parted my folds, just lightly touching a millimeter inside me.

I pressed my hips upward, trying desperately to get him inside me, but he moved with me, and his tongue traveled up and lightly glanced off my clit, which set off a whole other bunch of frustrated sexual fireworks inside me.

“PLEASE,” I begged him, almost crying now.

“You still haven’t told me what you want,” he growled, right before he let his tongue slide all the way from the bottom of my pussy to the very top, lifting wetly away from my skin just before he touched my clit.

I was writhing in agony. “Please… fuck me…”

“With my cock?” he whispered.