Terms Of Their Costa Rican Temptation

The feel of it, of him, between her legs was indescribable. Her head fell back in pleasure as he continued to kiss, suck, lick, bite his way across her shoulder. His free arm came up in between them, his hand angling her head back so that he could lavish attention on her body. His fingers traced downwards, finding the central notch with his index finger, then her sternum, following the motion with his tongue until he veered off as his fingers found one nipple and his mouth the other.

She cried out. She couldn’t help it. Never had she felt so utterly devoured and sure. Sure that there was even more pleasure to be had. An impatience was building within her, a need that she couldn’t control. She curved into the hardness of his arousal and he growled against her breast, clenching the hand now fisting her bottom.

Nothing. She’d felt nothing like this before. Thoughts flitted through her mind at lightning speed. Benoit’s dark glare...showering outside in the garden...swimming in the pool beneath the waterfall... Benoit hauling himself out onto the rocky outcrop...

You don’t behave as if someone has given you pleasure.

Standing between his legs as he tore the linen trousers...

I want you to embrace who you are.

Jumping off the cliff...

Each thought merged with the way he touched her, the way he pulled desire and cries of pleasure from her soul. He pursed his lips around her nipple and she bucked away from the pleasure, pressing back against the glass. At the release of her breast she looked up and met eyes that were glistening like freshly formed frost beneath the moon. Intent, dark and devastating, he didn’t take his eyes from her once as he tore at the button of the shorts and thrust them down her thighs. He was daring her, challenging her to stop him.

In that moment she knew she never would.

Still without taking his eyes from hers, he hooked his thumb beneath the waistband of her briefs, giving her a chance to stop him every step of the way. The power that hummed beneath her skin, the complete assurance that she was in control, that she could stop this at any point, the knowledge that he would stop, was intoxicating.

He seemed angry that she didn’t. A look of resignation crossed his features for a second before desire blotted out everything and, finally, he broke their gaze as he turned his attention to where his thumb was pulling down the thin material of her briefs.

Benoit cursed. He cursed himself, cursed her, and cursed the fact that she looked, smelt, felt, tasted like everything he’d ever wanted. Slowly, inch by inch, he removed her panties, teasing her, teasing himself, he just didn’t know any more.

You don’t behave as if someone has given you pleasure.

He wished he’d never said it to her, because now it was all he could think of—giving her so much pleasure it overflowed. The delicate cross-hatching of curls at the apex of her legs was perfect to him and he anchored his hands at her hips, coming down onto his knees. She wriggled in his grasp and he couldn’t help the spike of pleasure that flared, knowing that she was just as affected by this as he was—affected, tested, delighted. There were such fine lines between the range of feelings surging through him.

He brought his hands down around the curve of her bottom, cupping and tilting her pelvis, causing her legs to splay slightly—enough. Enough for him to bend his head, to press his mouth to her core. He ran his tongue the entire length of her, loving the way she parted for him, thrilled by the taste of her, delighted by the sobs of sheer pleasure that fell from her mouth into the air about them.

He found the soft nub of her clitoris and she trembled in his hands, her pleasure heightening his to an ache, throbbing and hardening and roaring for release. The shakes cascading through her body edged her closer and then further from his mouth. And it wasn’t enough. He wanted her completely at his mercy, just as he felt at hers.

He released one hand from the back of her thigh, bringing it round to lift just behind her knee and place it over his shoulder, giving him greater access. His tongue fastened against her clitoris, he pressed a finger to her core and heard the sound of her back hitting the glass; faster and faster he heard her inhale, filling her lungs with air as he continued to fill her with his hands and mouth.

Until that moment—the moment where everything stopped...breath, thought, heartbeat...and he felt her come apart against his fingers and tongue. He consumed it all, everything she had to give and more. He held her through it all.

When the trembling in her body finally stopped, he picked her up and took her to the bed, laying her gently down on the mattress, her skin flushed and eyes closed.

‘You were right,’ she whispered. He wouldn’t do her the disservice of asking what she meant. He knew. No one had given her pleasure before.

He stayed at the end of the bed, looking down on her. No matter how much he wanted to move, to lean over her, to touch her everywhere, to taste, to fill her completely, he wouldn’t move until he was completely sure.

‘We can stop now,’ he said, even though he knew what her answer would be.

‘More.’

‘What?’ He wasn’t sure he’d heard the word that had escaped her mouth; her eyes were still closed in bliss.

She slowly opened them, leant back on her elbows, levelled him with a stare and said, ‘More.’ Her voice was strong and clear, her cheeks were flushed; he could tell that it took a lot for her to say it, but he knew she meant it.

Skye watched him climb onto the bed, over her, surrounding her completely, with an anticipation that rivalled any she’d ever experienced. Her heart was still beating a wild tattoo from an orgasm that had felt as if it had been trapped within her for years. Benoit came so far up the bed she had to crane her neck to look back at him, arching her back, feeling utterly surrounded by him. He smiled down at her, but it was one of pure wickedness and she loved it.

He leaned back on his haunches, bringing his lips to hers and kissed her like she’d never been kissed before. It wasn’t forceful, desperate or even lazy; it was...consuming. Her hands went to his head, to hold him there, but he reached for them and pushed them above her head, holding them there with his free hand while the other trailed an open palm down her neck, sternum and over her breast.

‘If you keep touching me, Skye, I won’t last,’ he said but, rather than sounding weak, it only made her feel strong. She moaned into his mouth and he took it. He took everything.

His hand dipped lower, around her hip and to her inner thigh, gently moving it so that he could come between them. He broke the kiss and locked his eyes with hers. There was no challenge this time, no warning, no anger. This time she felt...assurance. Once again he was giving her power, only this time it felt as if he were trusting her with it.

He entered her slowly and she gasped for air as the length and width of him gently