Escaping Reality (The Secret Life of Amy Bensen #1)

I do not know what he means by “step one”, but his seductive purr on the word “baby” does funny things to my chest and his lips begin to trail over my jaw, teasing me with the promise of a kiss that I hope soon will follow. And it does. His mouth finds mine, a feather-light touch, a lick of his tongue, and I moan with the barely there, teasing taste of him.

“I do like those little sounds you make,” he murmurs, rewarding me with another brush of his tongue against mine. I moan again, unable to hold it back, ultra-sensitive to all this man does to me. I’m relieved when he deepens the kiss, when he takes me to that sweet spot where only he exists. This is what I want. To be lost in him, and I arch into him, needing him closer, craving that connection. Seeming to answer my plea, Liam inches forward, leaning me against the door and cradling me more fully on his lap, and his hands are all over me, teasing me, driving me wild. The need to touch him spirals through me, and I tug at my hands, but there is no escape.

There is only the growing ache of need inside me.

His lips leave mine, and I reach for his mouth, only to be denied. “Untie me. I need to touch you.”

He frames my face with his hands and I need them to be other places. Lots of other places. “You’re not ready to be untied.”

I laugh without humor. “Yes. Yes, I am.”

“What are you thinking about right now?”

“I…I don’t know.”

“The first thing that comes into your head. Don’t censor, just speak. Say it. Now. What are you thinking of now?”

“Your tattoo.”

“Anything else?”

“Touching you.”

“And?”

“Ripping the tie off my arms.”

He lowers his forehead to mine and his hands brush my br**sts, tease my ni**les. “And now?”

“How much I don’t want you to stop.”

“That’s the idea. Escape, baby. The lack of control i s control. When you’re hanging on each moment, anticipating what comes next, it leaves room for nothing else. That’s what I want to do for you.”

I think of his comment about sharks and the certainty there is more to his story than I know. “And who helps you escape, Liam?”

“We’re going to the same place, Amy. I’m not standing outside watching.” He dips his head low and his lips find my neck and then my ear. “I’m right here with you.”

I squeeze my eyes shut, lavishing in the deep stroke of his hand down my back and the seductive reply of his words in my mind. Right here with you. That phrase shimmers down my spine and settles deep inside me. Liam is with me. In a tiny window of time, he has slipped past every wall I’ve erected.

“Look at me, Amy.”

I pry my lashes open at his soft command and I feel a punch in my chest when my eyes meet his. I am going to fall hard for this man. I already have.

He leans in and kisses me, pressing my br**sts together before dragging to tease my ni**les, then dragging his mouth down my chin, to my neck and chest until his tongue laves one of my ni**les, fulfilling a wish I so desired. I suck in a breath at the rough, wet heat suckling me, moving from one swollen tip to the next, mercilessly licking, nipping, teasing, and I can take no more.

“Liam, enough. Please. I need—”

“What I say you need,” he finishes, his hands cupping my backside, lifting my belly to his mouth, dipping his tongue in my belly button, and then licking all the way to my hipbone.

Nipping the sensitive flesh, licking again.

“Liam, damn it,” I pant, and I never curse, but then I am never this undone. “You are making me insane.”

He smiles against my belly. “That’s the idea.”

My quaking body disagrees. “No. No, it’s not. Pleasure is the idea.”

“Pleasure,” he repeats, his eyes dancing with way too much male satisfaction for me to hope he’s done tormenting me. “I thought that’s what I was providing. Let’s see. How about this?” He lowers his head and licks my clit, and I gasp, then whimper as he swirls his tongue around me several times, then teasingly asks, “Is that pleasure?”

I squeeze my thighs around his shoulders. “Stop tormenting me.”

He blows on my clit. “It’s called foreplay.”

My lashes flutter but I manage to glare at him. “No, it’s—”

His mouth closes down on me, and waves of pleasure ripple through me. I tug at my hands, desperate to hold his head, to make sure he doesn’t stop this time. His fingers slide inside me, stretching me, caressing me. And his tongue, his amazing tongue, is both sandpaper and silk, stroking me to the edge, then masterfully soothing the ache. Over and over he licks me to the shadow of bliss, and pulls it back.

“Liam,” I gasp, unable to take it anymore. I am trembling with how close I am and how far at the same time. Needing him to give me relief, but he does not. His mouth leaves my cl*t and he slides up my body, shifting our h*ps and settling his c**k thickly between my thighs, his searing stare meeting mine. “We come together,” he says, and then presses inside me, stretching me, filling me, and I can barely breathe for the pleasure. I’d thought I’d wanted the sweet bliss his tongue had promised but in this moment, I know I did not. This is what I want. Together. He is where I need him but he does not move. He holds us there, his hands firmly on my hips, his shaft deep in my sex, and challenges me with, “What do you want, Amy?”