Unwrap Me. Susan Lyons

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СКАЧАТЬ It was amazing.

      First his lips brushed hers as softly and as lightly as a butterfly’s wings, and then they came back a little more firmly. Eagerly she pressed against them, trying to hold him in place. But he moved again, sucking her bottom lip between his, darting his tongue against the burning flesh.

      She licked out, running her tongue over his top lip, tracing its full curves.

      He nipped gently and then settled his mouth fully against hers. His hand slipped through her hair to caress the back of her head. Running up and down through the roots of her thick hair, he circled in a motion that was almost massage. Soothing and arousing at the same time.

      Leaning close, she put her hands on his shoulders, feeling the heated strength of his muscles through the flannel of his red shirt. At work, the men she met were white-collar. If they had muscles at all, they’d been built in a gym. Nick’s were the real thing. These were shoulders that carried people out of burning buildings.

      A sexy thought. A sexy man.

      Now his tongue was in her mouth, invading and caressing in a leisurely, seductive way that hardened her nipples and dampened her panties.

      It might have been a long time since she’d had sex, but her body definitely remembered. It was ripe and aching to be given. To be taken.

      Nick was gorgeous and sexy and nice. Why should she hold back?

      Hungrily she tried to press against him, but it was too awkward with her legs curled up on the couch.

      He made an impatient sound, then tore his mouth from hers. “There’s a better way.”

      In a moment he’d grabbed her by the hips and then they were lying side by side on the couch. Their bodies adjusted to each other in a series of small movements until all the pieces were interlocked just right. “Mmmm, feels good,” she murmured. Yes, she remembered what this was like.

      Except Nick’s body was harder and stronger than any she’d ever cuddled against, and the fit was even better. He was so overwhelmingly male, and his kiss, the touch of his hand as he cupped a breast through her T-shirt, were sure. But gentle, too. Caressing. Seductive. Making her want to give him everything he asked for. And more.

      Impatiently she hooked her fingers in the hem of her shirt and struggled to pull it up her body. His hands took over, skimming the garment over her head. Her undies were at-home ones, plain cotton in a tan color that almost matched her skin. No silk or lace, yet his eyes glittered with heat as he ran a finger along the top edge of her bra. “Man, you’re gorgeous, Jude.”

      His touch stole her breath, but she managed to say, “Even in this boring bra?”

      “Even in a turtlenecked T-shirt. I bet you’re even gorgeous in sweats.”

      She didn’t own any, but she had half a dozen pairs of flannel PJs. Nights were cold when a girl slept alone.

      Nick lowered his head, and his lips took her swollen nipple through the cloth of her bra.

      Nights wouldn’t be cold with Nick in her bed. In fact, right now her blood felt as hot and thick and sweet as the Grand Marnier syrup she made to go with crepes. Just waiting for a dash of brandy and a match to ignite it.

      Deft hands reached behind her and unfastened her bra, and then his lips were on her bare nipple. She gasped, body arching toward him. Her nipples had always been sensitive, and too intense a touch hurt, but Nick’s mouth was perfect as he laved and sucked gently.

      Amazing that one pearled nipple not much bigger than a bead was almost as sensitive, as responsive, as her clit. In fact, it seemed directly linked to that other pearly bud, and both fed directly to the pleasure center that ruled orgasms. His jean-clad thigh was between her legs and, as need mounted inside her, she pressed shamelessly against it as two layers of denim rubbed the soft cotton that covered her crotch.

      Her hand found his erection, steely hard behind the fly of his jeans. Denim, more denim, too damned much denim. She fumbled to undo the button and lower the zipper, then she reached past denim and cotton to grip that strong shaft.

      Nick made a sound that was half groan, half growl, and turned his attention to her other breast as she fondled him.

      He was so perfect in her hand. Big and hot and hard with a crown that was soft as silk and damp from his own arousal. Sliding her hand up and down his shaft, she imagined him inside her. Stroking back and forth, in and out. Pressing against the walls of her vagina, reaching deep into her secret places, each stroke stimulating her clit.

      Aching with need, she moaned, writhed. Realized that somehow Nick’s hand was inside her jeans, his finger on her clit as deft and as gentle as his mouth on her breast. No pain, only pure, aching pleasure.

      Building, growing, making her gasp and press against him as he rubbed and teased her.

      Then—oh, god—cresting, peaking, flooding through her in waves of pure, amazing sensation that made her cry out.

      As her breathing gradually slowed, she drifted back to reality. She’d never climaxed so easily before. Was it all the months of abstinence, or was it Nick?

      Nick, who was easing his hand out of her pants.

      Nick, whose swollen cock she still gripped.

      She couldn’t meet his eye, not after coming apart under his touch. Instead she slid her hand up to the crown of his erection, finding beads of moisture and swirling them. “Your turn.”

      His hand closed over hers. “Not that way. Inside you.”

      Inside her. Pumping in and out the way she’d imagined. Her pussy clenched, telling her one orgasm wasn’t enough. Not tonight with this man.

      “Jude? Is that okay?”

      She darted a glance at his face, at the flush on his cheeks, the heated intensity in his eyes. Oh, yeah, she wanted him inside her giving her everything he had. “Yes,” she breathed. “If, uh…do you have protection?” The last thing she’d been expecting was sex, and tonight it had arrived and found her hot and needy but unprepared.

      “Yup. What say we get rid of these clothes?” He climbed off the couch, unbuttoning his shirt. In less than a minute, he’d stripped and stood in the firelight, naked.

      Naked, utterly male, a total hottie. Broad shoulders rippling with muscle, firm pecs sprinkled with glossy curls of black hair, lean hips, sculpted legs—and, most of all, that bold jut of erect cock. No man had a right to look so good, but Jude wasn’t about to complain.

      If he’d given her a moment, she would have felt self-conscious about her own body, but she had no time to think. His hands were gently but efficiently divesting her of her clothes. Then somehow the two of them were back on the couch, lying together with her on the bottom and his body covering her. Touching her all over. His chest hair tickling her breasts, making them tingle. His sheathed erection heavy against her stomach. One of his hands reaching between them, touching that sensitive bud still swollen from climax.

      That first orgasm had been a great appetizer. Now her blood clamored for more, and she wasn’t going to be bashful about asking for what he so clearly was ready to give. She gripped his firm butt in both hands and squeezed. “Now, Nick.” Her voice came out throaty and demanding.

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