Page 79 of Dearest Beast
It was not an elegant kiss by any stretch of the imagination. Lips and teeth collided in a near-animalistic, as she’d once quipped, convocation.
With a moan, she could do little more than surrender to the potent hunger that seemed to envelop them both. Not that she wanted to fight it. Or him. No, even if it was wrong, this was the only place she wanted to be.
“Like this,” he panted only to break the kiss and search her face once more.
“Please,” she whimpered.
“Say it,” he commanded, his voice nearly a growl. “My name,” he demanded. “Not my surname, the one my family took when it reclaimed our Jewishness, the other one,” he prompted, his fingers tightening their grip on the wood, as if he was holding himself back. That he was controlling something deep and dark and powerful. Something that thrilled her even if it should not.
For it to be hers, all she needed to do was say a single word. The one that made him an individual, not merely part of an entity. With that, he could be released.
They both could.
“Roger,” she said, raising her chin, her voice firm and clear. “I need you, Roger,” she repeated.
His eyes glowed in the dim light.
“Good, Red,” he murmured as he lifted and deposited her on the bed. Though, instead of falling upon her body as she wished, he stepped back, looming above her as liquid heat poured through her body.
“Rebecca,” she breathed as he bunched up her nightdress. “Call me by my name as well,” she moaned as he spread her legs.
His lip curled into that obnoxious smirk that she used to hate but now made her entire being yearn.
“Good god, Rebecca,” he whispered, so reverently that tears swarmed. Even if she never cried.
Not even permitting her to ponder the odd burst of emotion, he reached down and ripped her chemise down the center, cool air flooding her already overheated body.
“I’ll buy you another one” was all he said in response to her undoubtedly shocked expression. He parted her legs farther, placing one on each shoulder, settling between them.
His tongue barely touched her clitoris before she began to writhe. Soon he was relentlessly stroking the already sensitive bud.
“Roger,” she screamed while he moved a finger inside her, curling it slightly so it made contact with a small, sensitive spot that sent her soaring into oblivion. Back arching, she gripped the sheets, shudders overtaking her body.
But he was not finished with her. Again and again, he brought her over the peak, wringing orgasm after orgasm from her until shewas not sure if she could remember her own name, let alone survive another.
Finally, when she was so spent that she wondered if her bones still existed, as illogical as the thought was, he withdrew, pausing for a moment before planting a single, small, nearly sweet kiss upon her forehead.
“God, I’ve missed you,” he said, laying himself down next to her.
Spinning onto her side, she propped herself up on an elbow. “It’s been less than a day.”
With the grace of a panther, the man sprang up, pinning her arms above her head, caging her body with his.
“I don’t care.” He stroked a hand between her legs, his thumb circling her clitoris, gliding down and dipping into her once again wet channel. “I need to be here,” he whispered, leaning down to nip her ear. “Now.”
“Yes” was all she could moan as her back arched nearly of its own accord. She forced herself to pause as a thought occurred to her. “Though…”
The man halted. “What is it?” he asked, concerned now etched on his handsome face.
She glanced at the bedside table. “I didn’t prepare a condom.”
“Bad Rebecca,” he joked, giving her bare bottom a playful swat then pouncing on her, kissing her once more, this time on the lips, softly but deeply. Achingly so, and something tight and hard formed within Rebecca’s chest.
Something like need.
But not for this.
For something else.
