Addicted. Charlotte Featherstone

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СКАЧАТЬ and her womb was clenching in longing. Over and over he teased her with his thumbs, plucking at her nipples until little tremors raced down her back.

      “I want to feel you tremble like this when I’m buried deep inside you.” She met his gaze and he smiled slowly—sensually. “Let me make love to you.”

      “Yes,” she hissed as he ran his tongue along her nipple before slipping it between his lips. “Yes. I want this—so much.”

      Picking her up as if she were light as a feather, he carried her to the corner of the stable where bales of hay were stacked. He lowered her to stand beside him. Pulling his shirt from his shoulders he placed it atop their makeshift bed. Picking her up again, he placed her on the linen, which was damp from his sweat.

      They had ridden hard on their ride through the woods. Even now she could see the rivulets of perspiration trickling down his chest as the silver moonlight filtered through the window and reflected on his chest. She loved the masculine texture of his damp shirt beneath her and the scent of him—male and musky—surrounding her. She didn’t care that she was going to be tumbled on a bale of hay in a stable for her first time. She didn’t care, because this was Lindsay, this was his world—the world they had always shared together.

      Sitting back and resting on his heels, he studied her, all the time running his hands along her body. “So soft, so beautiful and pale,” he said, sounding awed. “I want to remember you like this, stretched out, waiting for me to take you for the first time.”

      Her thighs trembled. She shoved aside the awkwardness. Now was not the time to be gauche. Now was the time to indulge her deepest, most private fantasy—making love with Lindsay.

      He ran his hand over her nipples, then down her ribs till he reached her hip. He caressed and kneaded, watching her response, listening to her sounds of pleasure before he ran his fingertips along the inside of her thighs, eliciting a flush of gooseflesh along her skin. He played there for a while, touching her, heightening the anticipation until she was clutching at his shoulders and urging him down. She had liked his mouth between her thighs, and greedy as she was, she wanted it there again.

      He knew what she desired, and with a wicked smile that made her toes curl, he lowered his head and set his mouth against her sex. She arched at the intimacy, brushing her damp flesh against his cheek and lips. She heard his groan, a sound of approval and delight before he raked his tongue against her.

      She cried out his name as she felt his tongue part her folds and she covered her mouth with the back of her hand, silencing her wanton pleas. He only teased her more by flicking his tongue slowly up the length of her before circling the sensitive bud of flesh. She tensed and looked down, only to see him looking up at her as he slowly raked his tongue around the hood of her sex. That sinful visual was enough to stop her heart.

      “I’ve always wondered how you would taste coming in my mouth. Now I know.”

      Wicked, wicked man! But the words would not come, only the uncontrollable shaking of her body beneath him as she climaxed into his mouth. When she could utter a sound, it was in hushed, stuttering breaths, pleading with him to stop. He would not listen. He pushed her on. His tongue hungrily, forcefully licked her until she clutched at his head and raised herself on her elbows. She watched as he tormented her with his tongue.

      Her hips moved in time to his probing tongue. She heard him growl, watched as his gaze lowered to her breasts, which were swaying with her efforts as she climbed the hill to orgasm once again.

      Lindsay continued to study her breasts as she cupped one in her hand, stroking her nipple with her thumb, just as she did at night, hidden beneath her bedsheets, pretending that it was Lindsay doing all those wicked things to her body and not her own hands.

      “Little minx, you’ve done this before, haven’t you?”

      She smiled a slow half smile and continued to palm her breasts, teasing him, delighting in his husky growl when she rolled her nipple between her thumb and finger. “It was you that I dreamed of when I brought myself to orgasm, Lindsay. But it never felt like this. This intoxicating.”

      Sitting up, he pulled off his boots and tossed them down to the flagstone floor. He tore at the flaps of his breeches, pulling them along his hips, allowing her only a glimpse of black curls and his rampant erection before he pressed his hot, damp body on hers.

      Holding out her arms, she reached for him, allowing his chest to cover hers as he buried his face in her neck and the hair that spilled out over the hay. He pressed inside her, filling her so full that she could only slide up and away from the intrusion, but he reached for her hips and held them firm in his big hands.

      “I’m full of you,” she breathed, feeling the thick length of him still sinking farther into her. He groaned, still clutching her hips, holding her still so that he could surge up inside her.

      The pain she expected did not come. A brief, stinging sensation made her wince, but it was quickly soothed away by the exquisite sensation of Lindsay buried deep. They were one now. She could no longer tell where she left off and he began.

      He reached his hands around to her bottom, gripping her tight, stroking her deep, quickening his thrusts as he watched her breasts dance and sway. She arched her back, feeling the pressure building inside her once again. He kept thrusting until she felt his shoulders stiffen beneath her fingers.

      “Anais,” he groaned. “Angel.”

      She held his gaze steady as he thrust into her slowly at first, then steadily deeper and faster. My beautiful, beautiful Lindsay, how I love you…

      A draft crept in through the barn boards, caressing their naked bodies. Anais shivered, snuggling into Lindsay’s warmth. He reached up and pulled a woolen blanket down from an iron hook.

      “You don’t mind, do you?” he asked, covering them up with the tartan wool. “I know it’s not silk brocade, but I confess I’m not ready to let you up. I want to feel all this against me,” he murmured, running his hand over her body.

      She pressed up against him instead of slapping his probing hand away. In truth, she couldn’t get enough of his compliments, or the way his hands seemed to continuously stroke her body in the most reverent of ways.

      “How many more times do you expect to do this tonight?”

      He chuckled and pressed his chin against the top of her head. “I don’t know. I can’t get enough of you. I have a lifetime to make up for, you know. So many years of watching you. You don’t know the tortures you’ve put me through. Tonight in the salon, when I first saw you standing by the hearth, I nearly carried you off then, I wanted you so badly.”

      His fingers reached out, capturing a curl that lay over her shoulder. She watched as he studied the blond strands in the golden light. “I’m so bloody glad I finally got up the courage to take you to bed,” he murmured, before dropping her hair and smoothing his fingers down her shoulder.

      “So am I.” It was about time he saw her as a woman.

      He caught her hand and slowly entwined her fingers with his. “I don’t want this moment to end, but I suppose it’s getting late and I shall have to give you up. No doubt your mother and father are waiting to go back home. We’ve been riding,” he said with a grin, “for an inordinately long time.”

      She nodded, knowing he was right, but wishing he wasn’t. She didn’t want this moment СКАЧАТЬ