Maverick (Elite Ops 2)

He did? Oh God, was this really pleasure? Could she bear much more of it if it was?

“Easy,” he whispered. “Soft and easy.”

Soft and easy. His lips settled against hers as they parted, a whimper of surging hunger escaping her throat as his head tilted, his hand tightening at her neck as her lashes fluttered closed and she let the waves of pleasure wash through her.

His tongue licked at her lips, then slid past them, just a little as he teased the tip of hers. Her lips parted further for him, her tongue reaching out as she trembled in his grasp.

Oh God, what was he doing to her? Her heart was thundering in her chest, but his was racing just as hard beneath her hands. A hard pounding rhythm that sank into her palms and filled her with wonder.

It was incredible. This kiss. His lips were heated and dominant, determined. They mastered hers, led her through a sexy, sultry dance that had her lifting to her tiptoes to get closer, to sink into him, to sate herself against the hunger surging inside her now.

Her hands slid up his chest, around his neck. Her head fell against his arm and she let the sensations inside her surge over her.

Lips and tongues met and meshed. Liquid fire raced through her veins, pounded into her sex. Her clit was throbbing with such aching need that she found herself pressing into him desperately, rubbing herself against the hard ridge of his cock as his hands tightened on her hips, pulling her closer.

Mewling cries of need were barely forced back. Many slipped free. She was a pleading mess of sensations that she had no idea how to handle.

She fought to breathe and couldn’t, and didn’t care. She tried to lift closer, to press her nipples tighter into the warmth of his chest, to grind her clit harder against his erection. She didn’t know if she could stand the rapidly whirling sensations tearing through her now. They were unlike anything she had ever known; even that distant memory of flames burning her from the inside out didn’t compare to this.

“Micah.” She tore her lips from his, only to have his hand move to the side of her neck once more to hold her still. His lips were back on hers, his kiss as hungry and desperate as the sensual needs pouring through her body.

“Easy,” he groaned, finally tearing his lips from hers, his big body tense and suddenly harder than ever before. “Hell, Risa, you make a man lose his head.”

She did?

Her eyes opened, and for a second she almost believed him. His face was flushed from lust, his eyes gleaming back at her in hunger.

He wanted her. He couldn’t fake this. This wasn’t anger or depravity. It was simple hunger, for her.

Her hands fumbled at his shoulders before pushing beneath the edge of his jacket and pushing.

Surprise sparked in his eyes, but he let her push the material from his shoulders.

She licked her lips slowly, wanting his kiss again, but wanting something more as well.

Her hands slid back to his chest and moved to the buttons of his shirt. The first one fell free before she lifted her gaze to his.

“Whatever you want.” His voice was thick, rough.

She wanted his shirt off. She pushed the second button free as his head lowered, his lips moving along her shoulder to the sensitive line of her neck.

Risa trembled at the pleasure. The scrape of his teeth sent tremors tearing down her spine and sensation to attack her womb, convulsing it violently as she gasped in surprise.

It must be natural. He didn’t pause. His hands caressed her hips now, stroking the silk of her dress against her flesh and making her long for the touch of his hands.

She worked on the buttons, fingers fumbling, trembling, her neck arched, and she strained closer to the touch of his mouth against her shoulders.

“Take the shirt off and I get to take your dress off,” he warned her, and he meant it. She could hear the determination, the hunger, in his voice.

She wanted her dress off. She wanted to rub against him, feel his skin against hers. She wanted to know what it was like. How much more pleasure could she bear? How much of his touch could she stand without melting to the floor with the heat rising inside her.

Her fingers reached the band of his slacks and her fingers formed fists in the material to drag his shirt out of his pants. It was open now, falling away from his surprisingly broad chest. Soft, silky chest hairs were scattered over it and arrowed down his taut stomach.

Her fingers touched the silky stuff, curled, and ran down that dark line until they met his pants once again.

She could do as she wished, he’d said.

His head lifted from her shoulder as hers straightened, and she stared back at him as her fingers touched the buckle of his belt.