Page 52 of Beyond the Cut
He yanked her dress up higher, revealing her garter belt and the thin strip of matching lace panties. “A naughty angel.”
Cade traced his finger along the edge of her garter belt. God, he loved the lingerie women wore. Light and filmy, smooth and sexy, lace and leather, and ribbons that he wanted to pull, unwrapping the treasures just visible beneath. Did women have any idea what it did to a man to get a peek at something he shouldn’t see?
But Dawn… in this… So fucking sexy he could barely breathe.
He lifted her and settled her on the desk, parting her legs with his hips to give him better access.
“You’re hurt…”
He cut off her protest with two hands around her heart-shaped face, tilting her head back so he could ravage her mouth some more.
“Cade…”
Even as she kissed him, even as her hands smoothed over his shoulders and her fingernails dug into his skin, he heard the hesitation in her voice. Desperation seized him. He wanted her to want him as much as he wanted her. He wanted her to need him as he needed her. He wanted her to know him as he was now, consumed by her, and not the Cade that went from bed to bed looking for what now trembled in his arms.
So he threaded his hand through her hair and tugged her head back because he knew she loved it.
So he slid his lips down her neck, to that sensitive spot on her shoulder that made her moan.
So he yanked the dress over her head, baring her to him, knowing his dominance aroused her.
But he wasn’t prepared for what lay beneath. Creamy, voluptuous breasts nestled in a froth of white lace. A pure, lush, decadent feast. A bride. And he was a bastard because he was going to take her here on a hard desk in a filthy office, instead of a nice soft bed in a fancy hotel room, and there was fuck-all he could do about it. He’d never felt want as he felt it now: pulsing, throbbing, pounding want.
“Dawn, babe. You are so beautiful you could make a priest sin.”
“Good thing then I already have a Sinner.”
When his palm cupped the smooth perfection of her breast, and his thumb brushed gently over her taut, rosy nipple, he couldn’t hold back. With a groan, he eased her back on the desk, wrapping her legs around his hips.
“Touch me,” she whispered.
“What my old lady wants, my old lady gets.” He smoothed his hands along her inner thighs, his fingers brushing over the lace tops of her stockings and along the garter elastics, until he reached her lace panties. She liked lace. He remembered tearing lace panties off her before, the soft rend of material as erotic a sound as her whimper when he stroked her wet pussy.
“More, Cade. Don’t tease.”
His body shook like it was his first time, like he had at the age of fourteen when he discovered he could lose himself in a woman’s embrace and the shouting and crying and screaming he heard at home would fade away beneath moans and whimpers of desire. He couldn’t stop the pain, but at least he could give pleasure.
He cupped her breast in his hand, tugging down her bra to take her nipple in his mouth.
“Oh God.” Dawn arched off the desk, offering him more. Her hands slid over his chest, sending wave after wave of heat down to his cock. Unable to stop himself, he ground his erection against the curve of her sex until he was on the verge of spilling himself like a teenage boy.
Her hips rocked against him, her heels digging into his back. With her head thrown back, her hair spread around her in a golden wave, she was a goddess, devastatingly beautiful, irresistibly wanton… and his.
Mine. Overwhelmed with a need to claim her, he grasped the edge of her panties and eased them over her hips, sliding them over her lean legs and off. Too pretty to tear away.
He heard her gasp, and if he hadn’t been so wound up, he would have savored her, licked the salty sweetness from her skin, and teased her nipples until she writhed beneath him. But that was for another time. Another place. A night when they weren’t the guests of honor at their own party and everyone would be wondering where they were. Now was about sex. Rough and raw. Pure and primal. Now was about making her truly his.
“Are you wet for me, babe?” His hand dropped to his belt and he worked at the buckle.
“So wet.”
“Are you hot?” The buckle gave way and he tore open his fly.
“So hot.”
“Legs on my shoulders.” He pulled a condom from his pocket and ripped it open with his teeth, then sheathed himself as she positioned herself, calves on his shoulders, her glistening pussy wet and inviting.
“Now,” she demanded.
