She came into his arms, her eyes locked with his, flashing with uncertainty and heat. Her skin was warm against his hands, against the sensitive flesh of his throbbing cock. He inhaled the smell of peaches and warmth and closed his eyes as he fought for control. Tonight. Tonight he would know if she had the strength to satisfy all his needs, or just the most immediate. God help him if she didn’t, because he had a feeling he needed her too much to ever let her go.
“What are you going to do, Brock?” She was trembling against him. Brock could feel the small, almost imperceptible shudders that racked her body.
“I’m going to love you, Sarah, the only way I know how,” he whispered against her hair as he drew her to the couch. Sitting down, he pulled her to his lap.
She curled into his arms, fitting him perfectly. Her head lay on his chest, her hair, still just a bit damp, caressing his flesh. He tangled one hand in the honey gold mass as the other smoothed gently from her knee to her ankle.
She didn’t question him, though Brock had expected her to. The fact that she wasn’t showed him the lingering fears she was holding. He had tonight to convince her that she could do what he needed.
“You’re so soft, Sarah.” He nudged at her chin. “So soft and warm. And all mine.”
Her face rose, her eyes dark and somber in the soft glow of the candles. Brock couldn’t resist kissing her. His head lowered, his lips settling on hers as they opened to admit the firm stroke of his tongue. He swallowed her low moan as she relaxed in his arms, turning to him, her tongue tangling with his.
She tasted as sweet as sugar, like nectar, fresh and dew kissed. He lowered her against the arm of the couch, her body stretched across his like an offering to some primeval god of lust. Her thighs shifted, parted as his hand swept up her leg. She was already wet for him, already soft and needy.
His lips sipped at hers slowly, his tongue washing over the gentle curves. He loved her mouth, had dreamed of it for years. He sucked lightly at the bottom curve, hearing her moan, his heavy lidded eyes watching the emotion and arousal that crossed her face. She was beautiful. So damned beautiful it hurt.
“Brock,” she whispered his name, her neck arching for the lips that trailed over it.
Skin so sweet, so soft he could devour her. Brock took a gentle nibble, then soothed the little bite with a lingering movement of his tongue. He felt her breath escalate, heard the hot entreaty in her keening moan. She arched in his arms, tilted her head to allow him greater access.
His lips moved across the expanse of skin, feeling the throb of blood beneath the living silk, pounding through her veins, rushing through her system. He could feel it echo in his own body, in the hard erection cushioned by her hip and the thump of his heart in h
is chest.
Brock’s lips went to her breasts; one hand cupped the full mound as she arched over his arm, his mouth covering the turgid tip. She twisted against him sensually, pushing against him harder as he licked and sucked with slow, light movements. She needed more, needed harder. She had a taste of the pleasure that came from a minute bite of sensual pain. He knew she wanted more.
Brock made her wait. Deliberate, hesitant licks of his tongue had her crying out in a fever of need. He wanted her like this. Arching and crying beneath him, begging for the pleasure he could give her.
“What do you want, Sarah?” he asked her as he ran his tongue around the flushed, reddening pucker of flesh. It tightened further, pouting out at him in need.
“Please, Brock.” Slender fingers clenched in his hair, trying to draw him closer, to make him give her what she needed.
“Tell me what you want, sugar.” He blew a whisper of breath across the damp flesh. Sarah trembled with a panting moan.
“Harder,” she begged him, her voice breathless. “Please, Brock. Harder.”
His head lowered again. He took the hard flesh into his mouth, suckling it deep as his teeth nipped and his tongue stroked. She nearly arched out of his arms as her back bowed, her hands pulling his head closer.
He nibbled at her, knowing the quick little flares of heat would drive her crazy. She cried out for him, her legs twisting, thighs tightening. Perspiration dotted her skin with a sexy glaze, making the slide of his hand over her stomach smooth and silky.
Sarah’s thighs fell open as he neared them, but Brock wasn’t ready to take her there yet. He wanted her hotter, wilder. He wanted her willing to do anything he asked, go to any lengths for the climax he could bring her. Brock kept his hand above the damp flesh, his fingers playing at her hips, her heaving abdomen, or plumping her firm breasts as he suckled first one, then the other, his teeth nipping at them, his tongue soothing the little ache.
“You are killing me,” she cried out, breathless, tormented. “Please Brock, please do something.”
He raised his head, staring into her eyes, feeling her nails biting into his shoulders and loving the little sting.
“What do you want me to do, Sarah?” he asked her as his thumb ran over her swollen lips. She had bit at them, fighting the need. The proof of it marked the reddened skin.
“Anything, Brock. Whatever you want.” She shook her head, her eyes wild as his hand smoothed to her hips once again.
“Anything, Sarah?” he asked her intently. “Anything I want?”
She hesitated, breathing roughly, knowledge and a very small measure of fear reflected in her eyes now. She knew he would push her. Knew it was time to face the demons that pushed him.
“Anything, Brock,” she said the words he had to hear. “Anything. Just please, do something.”
Brock nearly lost control in that single moment. He fought, baring his teeth as he gritted them harshly. His hands moved her, laying her back on the couch as he moved over her, his mouth taking hers fiercely as two fingers plowed into the tight heat of her cunt.