Blackwolf's Redemption

“If this isn’t what you want,” he said, his voice urgent with need, “tell me now.”

She moved against him, her hips undulating against his.

“I want you,” she whispered. “You, Jesse. You. You…”

He framed her face between his hands. Kissed her. She returned the kiss and sucked the tip of his tongue into the warm depths of her mouth. It seemed impossible for his erection to grow harder but it did, and he groaned with the pleasure-pain of it.

He told himself to slow down. Slow down. They had all night. He drew back, just a little. Opened the buttons of her jacket one by one. Pressed his lips to the hollow of her throat, felt the hot gallop of her blood beneath his mouth.

The jacket fell to the floor.

The outline of her breasts was clear through the clinging silk of her dress. He cupped them, feathered his thumbs over her straining nipples, exulting in her sharp little cries of pleasure. He was driving her crazy and driving himself crazy in the process, but it was worth it to hear those cries, to see rosy color stain her cheeks.

The dress closed with buttons. Small ones, damned near too small for his big fingers. He wanted to tear them apart, but even more, he wanted to prolong Sienna’s pleasure.

He undid them carefully, but halfway down, he could take no more. He had to feel her naked skin, so he slid his hands inside the open bodice of the dress, felt the coolness of the silk, the heat of her skin, and gloried in the sensuous contrast.

“Jesse,” she murmured, lifting her face to his.

He looked at her. Saw the glitter of desire in her eyes, the way her pupils had widened until only a rim of violet was visible around them. Her hair was loose and wild and incredibly sexy. Her bra was cream-colored lace, the darkness of her nipples shadowed like the outline of the sun in eclipse.

“Sweetheart,” he said thickly, “you are so beautiful….”

Her hands rose, framed his face. She brought his mouth to hers, kissed him, nipped his bottom lip. He felt a fever rising inside him, the need to take her, possess her, mark her as his.

He growled, tore the dress from her shoulders. She moaned, nipped his lip harder as the fragile silk fell away.

Mercifully, the bra had a front closure. It gave way easily and then her breasts tumbled into his hands.

Sienna cried out. Whispered his name. Put her hands over his, held his hands to her. He dipped his head, kissed her throat, the sweet juncture of neck and shoulder.

Her hands fell away. Jesse looked at her. His heartbeat stumbled.

She was so beautiful. So feminine. So perfect.

He told her so, his voice hoarse with emotion, watching her face as he stroked her pale pink nipples. A sob rose in her throat; his name trembled on her lips and he bent his head to her breasts.

To the tightly furled tips.

He licked her flesh. Tasted it. And when she cried out again, he sucked at one sweet bud while he caressed the other.

Her moans became a keening cry of ecstasy. Her knees buckled. Jesse caught her, captured her mouth with his, held her close as he tumbled onto the bed with her in his arms.

“Jesse.” Sienna was sobbing. Panting. Her lips were parted, swollen from his kisses. “Jesse, please, please, please…”

Her words, her yearning cries, fractured what little remained of his self-control. He stripped away the rest of her clothes, rose from the bed and tore off his. Then he came back to her, to her open arms, her soft mouth, clasped her wrists and drew her arms high over her head.

There was nothing gentle in him now. All of it had been consumed by his fierce need for her.

Only for her.

And she reveled in his hunger, matched it with her own, arching toward him, seeking his tongue, his heat, his passion. His lips moved over her, down and down and down as she writhed against him, aching for his possession.

“Please,” she said again, and he reached out, found his jacket on the floor, found one of the little packets he’d bought in the hotel pharmacy. He tore it open with his teeth, rolled on the condom and then he moved between her thighs, his swollen sex brushing against her. She was hot and wet, the exquisite proof of how badly she wanted him. He let go of her wrists, slipped one hand under her bottom, spread the other over her, his palm against her weeping flesh, watched her face, saw her eyes widen, heard the long expulsion of air as he parted her, sought her clitoris, stroked it…

She screamed. And he…he was going to explode if he didn’t end this torment.

“Sienna,” he said, “my Sienna…”

And he thrust deep, deep inside her.

She cried out, shattered instantly. Somehow, he held back. Stayed hard. Stayed buried inside her and moved again. And again. And again until he thought he might die of the pleasure of it, until he felt her womb starting to convulse around him.