Page 46 of Brant
Putting her glass down, she removed the tray from between them and made a split second decision.
"What?"
"I think I know a better way to celebrate your new status."
"And that would be... Oh!" He put his glass down before it could crash to the floor and watched as she removed the only layer covering her lush curves.
His mouth went completely dry and he wondered fleetingly if he should take another sip of the wine to quench his sudden thirst.
Before he could do anything, she was straddling him and removing his shirt. He had not bothered with underwear, and it was painfully evident that he was as hard as steel.
"I see you're way ahead of me," she murmured, hands sliding up and down his ribcage.
"Always," he managed. He could feel the familiar madness taking over and his control slowly disintegrating. The fire crackled inside the hearth and the snow pinged softly on the glass. The accelerated sound of their breathing could be heard in the otherwise silent room.
"Take it off," she told him breathlessly. "I want to feel you deep inside me."
The sound of her voice, the feel and sight of her naked curves was proving to be more than he could bear. Easing up carefully so as not to upend her, he dragged off the sweats and kicked them away. Fortunately for him, they landed a few inches away from the grate covering the hearth. He didn't think he would notice if the place caught on fire. He did not notice anything except that she was sheathing him like a tight glove or the fact that she was moist. Did he mention tight? Yes, he did.
She was pulling him in, wrapped around him and making him swell even more. And dear Christ! Her breasts and thoseenticingly seductive nipples. They were beckoning to him like a moth to a flame and he had to taste. The minute he did that, he gorged. He couldn't help himself. As soon as his mouth took hold of her nipple, he was completely lost.
He was like a man who had been starving for months. No, dammit, for weeks! He was now faced with a banquet that was fit for a bloody king. His mind was mush. She was undulating on top of him, taking him deeper with each movement and driving him clear out of his mind.
All his expertise in lovemaking, the years of experience, had gone from him. His hands were all over her, his body surging into hers with a desperation that was undeniable. He could not get enough of her. Belatedly realizing that he had to take over, he reached between them to tease her swollen flesh.
When she exploded, her body jerking, he tore his mouth from her sore nipple and seized her lips, swallowing her moans. With his fingers digging into her buttocks, he drove upwards. He could swear he felt her womb, and he exploded with her. The climax was shattering, causing him to dig his fingers painfully into her back and then her hips as he spilled himself into her. Flopping back on the cushions, he cradled her shivering body against his own sweat-slickened one and fought desperately to regain control.
Indigo curled her fingers into the springy hairs on his chest, a smile touching her lips when she felt the thundering of his heart beneath her palm.
"How about some hot chocolate?" she suggested after a few minutes.
"What?" His brain was still trying to surface from the fog and start its normal function.
"Hot chocolate." Lifting her head, she studied his handsome face that was still slack from passion. His tawny eyes were still smoldering. "You know, the preferred beverage for weather like this."
"I detest hot chocolate." He said it with a growl.
"How is that possible?" she asked in genuine puzzlement.
"Anything is possible. Coffee, only coffee." His hands roamed up and down her back. "There's still half a bottle of wine left. Why don't we finish it?" he countered.
"Okay, fine," she huffed. "I cannot believe you do not like hot chocolate."
He grinned at her, his world righting itself. "Believe it." Easing her to the side, he rose to get the wine. His original plan of making love to her on the blankets in front of the fire was still fresh in his mind. He had lost control several minutes ago when she took the initiative, but he was determined to get it back. Walking over to the comfortable leather sofa, he grabbed the soft gold and white blankets and started spreading them out on the floor. Next he heaped some cushions on the top, before pouring the wine.
Reaching for her hand, he drew her up and helped her down, before handing her the glass. "I thought we would enjoy the fire more like this."
"This is wonderful," she murmured, feeling comfortable and contented when he took his position behind her. Leaning back against his solid chest, she closed her eyes and sighed.
"You were right. This is amazing. And it's still snowing."
"Hmm."
He waited until she had finished the wine before he began. He was going to labor over her lush curves until they were both going up in flames. Taking the glass from her, he put it aside along with his and started at her neck.
"Brant."
"Ssssh," he murmured. This time he was going to use all the expertise under his belt to have her whimpering and then crying out his name. Shifting, he laid her back on the cushions and started at her forehead. Taking his time, he used his hands and mouth to wring cries of surrender from her. He wasn't in a hurry and even when she started to writhe, her fingers desperately gripping his shoulders to hasten him along, he ignored her attempts.
