Page 50 of (Not) The One
‘I want your thighs trembling around me.’ I draw her earlobe into my mouth, testing it with my teeth and causing her to shudder a little more. ‘I want you squirming all over my face again, and your hands pulling at my hair like you’re not sure if you want me closer or if you want to push me away. Do you remember?’
‘Yes . . .’ Her answer is a breath of air. ‘Yes, I remember.’
I wonder if she remembers as acutely as I have. As I do.
‘I want to be inside you, darling. I can’t wait any longer.’
She makes no protest as I push her forward, her palms connecting with the top of the console table with a slap.
And then this is happening.
Pale, pale skin.
The dips and sacred valleys of her.
The shake in my hand as I gather her hair, twisting her head to meet mine in a kiss.
‘James.’ Her voice is a rasp and her mouth a temptation. ‘Please, please just fuck me.’
I slide my wallet from my back pocket, slapping it down on the walnut tabletop and using one hand to pull a condom free. I notice she’s watching, all avid expression, so I take her chin in my fingers and twist her head to meet mine. The small kiss turns instantly savage—teeth and tongue and passion—before I pull away, fumbling with my belt.
She whimpers, rolling her lips in as though to mute the sound caught between desperation and need as I reach for the condom and tear it open. Like the biggest fucking tease, she watches from under her lashes, her head turned over her shoulder, her dark eyes glued to the sight of my cock in my hand.
The muscles in my abs tense with raw need as I sheath myself and move to position, changing my mind instead. I drop to my heels like a devotee, sliding my tongue against her glistening pussy, that sweet temptation, that slick ribbon of pink flesh. With a cry, Miranda falls forward onto her forearms, the space suddenly echoing with the sound of her desperate cries.
And my God, the taste of her. The way she rocks back against me, the sound of my name on her lips. It all drives me wild, my hands tight on her pale flesh, my tongue coated in her slickness, I’m neither able to taste enough or touch enough—feel enough.The knot in my belly tightens, a tremble in hers as I splay my hand there. The wetness coats her thighs as I lick her again and again, and they begin to tremble. But this isn’t enough for me, helpless to the chemicals rushing through my bloodstream.
‘Don’t come.’ I sound as if I’ve been running, my voice husky as I wipe the back of my hand across my face. ‘Not yet.’
‘Please.’ One whispered word. A plea as I wrap my hands around her hips and stand. ‘Please, not again.’
‘I want to see you when you come. Watch you. Turn around, darling.’
She whimpers as I turn her, depositing her on the tabletop. A copper bowl spins and clatters on the parquet floor, though it barely registers, other detritus scattering as I wrap my hand around her shoulder to push her back.
‘You were so close.’ My lips ghost from her navel to her lips, my tongue paying tribute to the pebble of her nipples on the way. ‘I could feel it.’ Desired it almost as much as she did, perhaps.
‘You’re so cruel,’ she whimpers, confliction playing across her face.
‘And you’re so lovely, even when you’re pouting.’
‘That’s not an answer,’ she whispers, her pout a little more exaggerated as she arches into my touch.
‘Do you think you’re ready?’
‘God, yes.’ Her answer is pure carnality.
‘You’re ready to accept you don’t need to be anyone else?’ Her body stills under my fingertips, but she doesn’t speak. ‘Because a goddess never relinquishes her power. She revels in it.’
‘I don’t feel very powerful sometimes.’ Her voice is little more than a whisper as she tips her head back, her eyes no longer on mine.
‘Look at me,’ I command, her gaze meeting me once again. ‘Look at the power you have over me.’ My words drain away as I run my hand down over my abs to where my cock stands swollen and proud. At this not so subtle hint, she spreads her legs. Like a magnet, my thumb slips between her folds, drawn to touch the soft rise of her clit. ‘Tell me what you want, Miranda. What you need.’
‘Oh, God,’ she whimpers, arching into my touch. ‘I need you inside me.’
Were more beautiful words ever said?
She sighs softly as, holding my cock, I swipe it though her wetness, a soft sigh thatcounters my grunt as she replaces my hand with her own, continuing the torture.
