This last was her response to his tongue, darting out and performing an elegant circling of her right nipple. He followed up by taking it fully into his mouth and giving it a long and fulsome sucking. His left hand plied her left breast, while his right was laid flat on her stomach, as if holding her in position.
She needed it. She was in a constant fight with her spine, trying not to arch it high in an effort to fit Leo’s erection tightly between her thighs and engage in a spot of illicit friction.
She was starting to feel the need to come, quite badly.
‘Gorgeous,’ he said, releasing her nipple from his mouth with a smacking sound. ‘You’re proper gorgeous. I can’t count the ways I want to have you. So many men want to have you, and it’s me who gets to do it. Thank you, God.’
With this heartfelt prayer, he moved on to her left nipple. This time, the hand at her belly crept lower, to stroke her hips and fit itself underneath her coccyx, testing the stretch of her waistband.
Her heart bumped at this promise of what was to come.
She had only to lie still and enjoy what he did to her, and she would get a huge orgasm, she was sure. Probably more than one. And, if she was honest with herself, the whole spanking thing had ratcheted her up more than a few notches. What if he actually did it? What on earth would that be like?
She tried to picture herself on all fours, getting her bottom smacked over and over until it was hot pink. Another gush dampened her knickers. Surely they would have to be thrown away?
‘Too many clothes,’ was his verdict, and he made her sit up while he pulled off her top and unclipped her bra. Then she had to lie back down and raise her hips so he could pull off her jeans. Her knickers followed them halfway down her thighs, but Leonardo held them in position.
‘Not yet,’ he said, to Jenna’s frustration.
‘Oh, why not?’
‘Because I don’t want to rush,’ he said, maddeningly. ‘You don’t go to fancy restaurants and bolt the food down like it was a Maccy D’s, do you?’
‘Years since I had a McDonald’s, so I can’t answer that one.’
‘Tell you what,’ said Leonardo, disposing of the jeans, and the socks, once and for all. ‘One day I’ll treat you to the works. Quarterpounder with cheese, fries, large Coke and a McFlurry. That’s living it up, that is. In Bledburn.’
‘I can’t wait,’ said Jenna sardonically. She hadn’t replaced her wrists in position after sitting up, and her hands were available to prod Leonardo in the chest once he had taken off his own T-shirt.
‘Get them back over your head,’ he ordered, standing up to remove his own jeans and socks. ‘Cross them, yeah, like that. Now you look ready for me.’
Stripped to his boxers, which bulged with promise, he did a few limbering up moves and pushed his hand through his hair.
‘Warming up?’ asked Jenna.
‘Too right. Got quite a workout ahead of me. OK. As they say on the cop shows – spread ’em.’
Jenna parted her thighs, filled with wonder at this man’s astonishing sexual confidence. He didn’t doubt for a moment that she wanted him, and would do anything to have him. It must be quite a gift, to be able to know that. Even at the peak of her fame, with her clothes, hair and make-up dissected and fawned over in every celebrity magazine, she had never felt that the men who chased after her really desired her. They wanted something else, something that was nothing to do with who she was and what she had to give. They wanted a trophy.
They had never given her what Leonardo was giving her now – genuine, eyes-on-stalks, salivating lust for her. Being bared to his gaze was almost frightening – he looked as if he might eat her up. She consoled herself with the knowledge that she was the tasting menu at one of Heston Blumenthal’s restaurants rather than the two-gulps-and-gone burger. If he was going to devour her, at least he would take his time.
He shuffled himself, on his knees, between her legs and took hold of her hips.
‘Nice and slow,’ he said, nudging his hardness against her softness, the double layer of cloth doing little to soften its impact. She gasped at the contact, then he lowered his upper body over her so he was crouching, ready to pounce, his palms flat on either side of her head. ‘I want to feel your skin.’ He let himself down little by little. When her bare nipples were brushed by the hair on his chest, it was electric and she squirmed into his erection, longing for friction.
He held himself just there for the duration of a dirty, animal kiss, tickling her nipples with his dark, wiry hairs while she tried to rub her legs up and down and clamp them over his thighs.
‘You’re hungry,’ he said, breaking off, and giving her that first glorious taste of skin against skin. He had the kind of body she most liked – a spare frame, not over-muscled but certainly not flabby either. Heavy enough to cause a crushing feeling behind her ribs, which she found oddly comforting. Trapped underneath his pinion weight, she was secure and endangered at the same time.
He soon rose again, before her breath became too short, kissed her ears and neck and moved his mouth back down to her breasts. One hand held her still at her hip while the other slid underneath her, to take a handful of her bottom.
The stroking and squeezing drove her to gasps – this part of her had always been sensitive. When he snapped her knicker elastic against the top of her thigh, it didn’t hurt, but it did make her desperate for him to get them off.
‘It’s all happening down here, isn’t it?’ he said, cupping her aching, soaking sex. He held his palm there and watched her push herself into it. ‘Someone wants to come.’
‘Oh, please,’ she said, her eyes shut, all her pride having leaked away or been transformed into need.
‘Let’s take a look at you, then.’