Sweetest Taboo (SIN 3)

He bends and kisses me, sweet and gentle and so full of emotion that it makes me gasp. Makes my heart constrict.

He breaks the kiss and meets my eyes, and though I know him almost as well as I know myself, I can't read what I see there. I start to ask, but his finger on my lips silences me.

He takes my towel away, then eases me back so that I am stretched out on the bed. Slowly, he kisses me down my body, and I slip into a state of bliss, my head on the soft feather pillow, my body floating in space as his lips and hands trail gently over my breasts, my belly, my thighs.

I shift, parting my legs, not even trying to be coy about where I want those kisses next, but that touch doesn't come. Instead, I feel the cool brush of material moving up my body.

With a frown, I open my eyes and see that he is pulling up the crumpled sheet to cover me.

"You need rest," he says in response to the astonishment that surely covers my face.

"The hell with that. I need you."

"You have me. Always. I can't believe there was a time when we fought it, because I can't live without you."

The intensity of his voice breaks through me, and my throat feels suddenly thick with tears. "Me neither." I may have walked away from him before the attack, but I could never have stayed away. We're bound, he and I. We're inevitable. And despite the taboo, those binds between us don't feel like chains, but like a gift. Because how many people actually find the one person in all the universe with whom they can fully share themselves?

"Then sleep," he says as he sits on the edge of the bed beside me and strokes my hair. "I'm not going anywhere. Let me take care of you."

"Then do it. Take care of me." I take his hand and guide it beneath the sheet to my breast, then arch back against his palm. I want him so bad I am aching. And while I know that he feels like he needs to coddle me, right now I need more.

"Letting me sleep isn't helping me," I insist. "Letting me sleep is ignoring me. Dallas, please. Please," I repeat as I slowly guide his hand down over my ribs, my belly.

His eyes are on mine, all dark heat and wild desire. But there's something else, too. He's still holding back, still second-guessing what he thinks is best for me.

"This," I say as I spread my legs and guide him lower, trailing his fingers over my smooth pubic bone and then lower still to cup my sex. "Touch me," I say. "Fuck me," I beg.

Electricity shoot

s through me, and I quiver, closing my eyes as I arch up and manipulate his fingers to tease my clit.

"Oh, Christ, baby." His words are low and hard, almost a growl, and I know that I have him.

"Bye-bye sleep," I murmur as he eases two fingers inside me even as he bends forward to take my breast in his mouth.

He moves over me and lowers his mouth to my breast. His teeth graze my nipple, and I cry out, bucking against him as he nips and bites, then kisses his way down my body. He pauses at my pubic bone, then tilts his head up to look at me. "Is this what you want? My mouth on your pussy? My tongue teasing your clit while I thrust my fingers deep inside you?"

My body clenches in response to his words, and I manage a garbled sound that is reasonably close to a yes.

"I'm going to take you to the edge, baby. Right to the edge, but not over. Not yet."

I whimper, then almost beg, but his tongue flicking over my clit silences me, and I arch up, the pleasure almost too much to bear. But he won't let me escape any of the delights with which he torments me. Instead, he holds my hips firmly in place as his tongue works a wild magic on me. I'm close, so close, and my breath is shallow as I focus on that one spot, that one place where all the pleasure in the world seems to be trapped, and Dallas is so close to releasing it, and if he would just--

But then he stops, and I'm left on the precipice. I cry out in frustration, but as I do, he releases my hips and thrusts his fingers inside me. My body clenches around him and I almost cry with relief.

I need this so much. No, not this. Him. I've missed him. Hell, I've missed us. And the feeling of him inside me is like coming home. "More," I whisper. "Dallas, please, more. Everything. You."

I'm not even coherent, but I know he understands.

Even so, he backs away from me, and I'm about to call him every dirty name I know, when I realize that he's not leaving. On the contrary, he's stripping, peeling off the damp jeans and then tossing his shirt across the room. He stands there for a moment, naked and perfect, his cock hard and ready. Just seeing him makes my body respond, my pussy clenching in anticipation of him filling me. He's mine. And right now, I want him inside me.

More than that, I want it hard. Fast. I want the wildness of being claimed. The surrender of being filled. And I'm completely shameless when I beg him, "Please, please, please, just fuck me." The words rush out of me without thought, and it's only after their echo has lingered that I think how wonderful it is that I can make that demand. For so long, Dallas hadn't been able to penetrate a woman, and I'd feared I'd never feel him inside me again.

But we're mostly past that now. Not one hundred percent, but pretty damn close.

Right now, though, he's not inside me, even though he's moved back to the bed. And I'm starting to realize that unless he's changed his approach to sex, he's totally not going in that direction.

"Dammit, Dallas, what are you doing?" I ask when he lifts his head from between my legs and aims a slow, sexy smile at me. "Or rather, what is your tongue doing and your cock not doing?"