“Are you hot for me?”
“Yes…Lance!”
“Let me feel.” He bent and dipped his finger into the spirals of dusky hair, finding her slick heat. Slowly, maddeningly, he rimmed the entrance to her body, circling, stroking her there with a leisurely, bewitching rhythm, till her breath shallowed and seemed to vanish. Then his finger entered her, impaling her lingeringly, thrusting unhurriedly within her.
A whimper dredged from her throat, Summer jerked and arched her hips, her inner muscles clenching instinctively around him. “Lance, please…” she panted.
“What do you want, princess?”
“I want you…please!”
He let her have what she wanted…partly. Clutching her hair with his free hand, he leaned close and kissed her in a hard, sensual caress, his lips moving roughly over hers while his fingers plied her throbbing depths. The combination left her half-dazed with hunger.
She had had enough of games, though, no matter how intoxicating. Nearly desperate, Summer reached blindly out to curve her moist fingers around his thrusting manhood. A flaring sense of excitement and triumph claimed her when she heard his sharp rasp of breath. Lance wasn’t nearly as cool and detached as he would have her believe. His body had gone rigid, while his eyes kindled like twin coals.
She could feel him pulsing and burning in her hand. Her heart hammering in her breast, Summer squeezed her fingers lightly, delicately, around his blatant erection. If he wouldn’t end his sensual torture, she would make certain he endured a similar agony.
Lance’s face twisted in a grimace of fierce pleasure at her startling touch. For an instant he thrust his throbbing shaft against her sheathing grasp, straining against the jolt of sensation so strong, it made him shudder. Yet he wouldn’t, couldn’t, allow her to do more.
Gritting his teeth against the surge of need, he abruptly pulled away, making her release him, knowing if he didn’t, he would go off like a sex-starved kid. He wanted to be the one in control tonight. He wanted Summer writhing for him. He wanted her trembling and hungry. He wanted to watch her go crazy in his arms, and when it was done, he wanted it to happen again.
Abruptly he pulled Summer to her feet. When she swayed dizzily, he held her rigid, his hands on the curves of her hips, staring down into her passion-hazed eyes. In a single smooth motion then, he lifted her onto the dressing table.
Instinctively her hands clutched at his shoulders, but her startlement quickly changed to acquiescence when she realized his intent. Pliantly, eagerly, she leaned back, her shoulders against the wall. Lance met no restraint when he spread her legs wide so that she lay open to him.
She was visibly shaking now, her arousal flame-hot, which was just how he wanted her. His hands braced on either side of her thighs, he lowered his head, breathing in her wonderful fragrance, her female heat. With deliberate speed, he planted a soft kiss on her woman’s mound, and Summer groaned out loud.
Lance smiled grimly, reveling in his own power. All he had to do was stroke her with his tongue and she would come apart. But he didn’t want her to come without him. He wanted to be inside her when she shattered, deep, deep inside her.
Sliding his hands beneath her buttocks, he lifted her hips onto his thighs and lowered her onto the throbbing erection pulsing against his stomach. Summer surged toward him, desperate to feel him inside her, to feel the wild beat of his heart match the wild beat of hers.
With a hard thrust of his hips, he crowded into her on one heavy stroke, impaling her to the hilt. Summer shrieked, and climaxed instantly, shuddering, quaking, her breath coming in panting moans.
When a staggering moment later she regained consciousness, it was to find herself draped limply against Lance, her arms, clinging to his neck, her face buried in his smooth, sweat-damp chest, his body’s heat and smell enveloping her. She had melted around him—and he was still huge and hard inside her.
He wasn’t moving at all, yet his breath was coarse in her ear, as if he were making a valiant effort at restraint.
Fighting off an exquisite languor, Summer experimentally moved her hips a fraction of an inch, and had to smile at the way every corded muscle in Lance’s body contracted involuntarily.
“Are you ready for me?” she murmured, her tone exhausted but smug.
“Shut up, witch,” Lance growled.
With the stiffness of rigid control he reached down and drew her legs around him, holding himself inside her shimmering heat. Lifting her in his arms, he turned and strode across the room to the bed, where he lowered them both to the mattress, still joined.
His black eyes held her gaze as his hands came up to roughly tangle in her hair, destroying the just-brushed neatness of her smooth, shining tresses. That was how he wanted her, with that regal image of hers shattered, with her emerald eyes soft and liquid with desire.
He began to move then, with an urgency as intensely primal as anything he had ever felt. Summer. His woman. He would never get his fill of her, the wild sweetness of her body, her lush, welcoming warmth.
Groaning in tender anguish, he took her, claiming, conquering, worshiping all at once. Soon she was responding with the same fierceness, her head thrown back in rapture. And when the flood came, all heat and light and motion, it held an intensity of pleasure as profound as pain.
His hard body buckled against hers, helpless in the throes of fulfillment. A
nd when the shuddering contractions at last faded, Lance shut his eyes, satisfaction and desperation warring in his heart. He loved her, this beautiful, fiery lady who could tie his insides into knots and make every breath feel like his first.
And somehow, someway, he had to make her love him in return.
Chapter 20