Looking Inside

He reached for her. He gathered her naked body to him, and her feet left the carpet. The romper slipped past her boots and fell to the floor. He swung her into his arms, muscles flexing hard, and she was reminded of his sexual boldness and displays of raw strength. But now, she was the focus of it. The room flew past the periphery of her vision. His face eclipsed her entire awareness.

“You’re going to be all mine,” he told her.

I already am, she thought wildly. She dug her fingers into his hair and brought him to her mouth for a kiss, forcing him to halt in a long, dim hallway. He made a rough sound in his throat, accepting her invitation. Their tongues tangled. He was delicious. She was reminded she must get her fill now.

This could be her one and only night with him.

The thought amplified her hunger. She deepened the kiss, pulling him tighter to her. He dropped her legs and her boots hit the floor with a clunking sound. She found herself pressed between Trey and the wall. He leaned down over her, a dark, demanding shadow, feeding from her with a single-minded fury that she loved. The noise of her heartbeat pounding in her ears mingled with their moans. His hands moved along her sides, owning her nakedness, stroking the curves of her hips, the indentation of her waist, her ribs and the sensitive sides of her breasts.

Suddenly, it struck her as unbearable that he could touch her nude body at will while he still wore his clothing. She wrenched her hands between their pressing torsos, her fingers frantically searching for the buttons of his shirt. She found one and yanked it through the opening, but suddenly his hands were on her wrists. He spread her arms in a wide V-shape and pressed them against the wall. He wasn’t rough with her, but he was firm. She couldn’t move.

“Not now. You’re about to make me come in my jeans,” he muttered tensely against her lips. Her heart soared at his words, and then his mouth was tracing a molten path down her neck, pausing to flick his tongue over her pulse. Eleanor moaned, her desperation mounting. He bent to kiss and lick at the skin of her chest. Pinned against the wall like she was, she stared down

at him, helplessly aroused. His lips brushed against the top curve of her breast. Her nipples pulled so tight they hurt.

“Trey,” she entreated.

He slicked his warm, wet tongue over a nipple, and her legs almost gave way. Maybe he sensed her trembling, because he let go of her wrists and grasped her rib cage, holding her firmly against the wall for his erotic assault. His mouth closed over a nipple, encasing her in his heat. She gasped. Her head banged softly against the wall. His mouth felt velvety warm. Firm. Insistent.

He sucked on her, then laved her nipple with his tongue. She felt his fire, knew his honest, pure hunger firsthand. She grabbed at his head, her hips shifting restlessly, needy for pressure against her sex. His hands moved to the sides of her breasts. He pushed the mounds together as he released her nipple. He pressed his face between her breasts and made a thrilling, feral growling sound. His hands were so matter-of-fact on her, shaping her flesh masterfully, any way he wanted it. He dipped his head, sucking the other protruding nipple into his hot mouth, drawing on her with a single-minded purpose that knocked the wind out of her lungs.

In that moment, Eleanor knew for certain that she’d been foolish in teasing Trey Riordan. But even that misgiving thrilled her to the core.

His hands went to her hips, lifting her effortlessly again. This time, he carried her with her front pressed to his, high up on his body, so that her gaze matched his. She dipped her head, his mouth calling to her.

“Don’t, Eleanor. You’re making me fucking crazy. At this rate, I’ll never make it to the bed,” he said sharply, and she stilled herself. Then he was lowering her, and the back of her thighs and ass hit a mattress.

At last, she was in Trey’s bed.

“Lie back,” he said, his tone grim. She looked up at him, half in trepidation, half in lust.

Now she was going to have to face the consequences of torturing him.

—

A flash of guilt went through him when he saw her flinch slightly at his harsh demand. He couldn’t help it. He’d never been this primed for a woman. There was something about her that went beyond her firm, svelte curves, exotic features and eyes he could drown himself in. She was so fresh. So unexpectedly honest in her passion.

And her taste—he’d like to see how long he could survive subsisting solely on her, three meals a day, afternoon and midnight snacks . . . maybe he’d never stop eating—

A loud roar started in his ears at his erotic thoughts while staring down at Eleanor lying on his bed, naked, save for those sexy stockings and boots. The curtains were open, allowing in enough light from the city for him to see the paleness of her skin against the dark blue of his bedspread and her high, full breasts rising and falling so enticingly, such delicate, mouthwatering prey. He lunged toward the bedside table and flipped on the lamp to a dim setting. There was no way in hell he was going to miss any detail of this.

Her nipples were dark pink in color. They glistened from his mouth. The areolas puckered incredibly tight. She was extremely responsive. They’d been so hard and distended beneath his tongue. He resisted an urge to fall on her like a wild animal.

“There’s no one in your condo who can look over and watch while I have you, is there?” he asked her sardonically. He tore his stare off the intensely erotic vision of her naked, flushed labia. She’d strike him dead from an overdose of lust. He forced himself to attend to the mechanics of undressing.

He realized she looked confused by his statement.

“The curtains are open,” he clarified. Even the rote task of undressing was nearly impossible with her lying there, her naked skin gleaming, breasts heaving slightly as she panted, her large eyes shining with excitement. She leaned up on her elbows, dragging her gaze off him, and glanced over her shoulder at the window. All was dark in her condo across the way.

“Oh . . . no.” She faced him. “I live alone.”

“That’s good to hear,” he muttered dryly.

He discarded his shirt, feeling her gaze move down over him. He grit his teeth, annoyed at the response he had to her eyes on his naked skin. One of his shoes skidded several feet under the bed, he’d kicked it off so forcefully. He lifted a foot and ripped off one sock, then the other, tripping slightly on the second one because he couldn’t take his stare off her.

His cock plagued him. He couldn’t think about anything else but finding blissful relief in that sweet little pussy. He watched her, gritting his teeth as he tore open the button fly of his jeans and jerked them off his body. By the time he drew the waistband of his boxer brief out and over his erection, he was wincing in agony.

His freed cock fell forward, heavy and hurting.