Название: Secret Pleasure
Автор: Taryn Leigh Taylor
Издательство: HarperCollins
Жанр: Эротическая литература
Серия: The Business of Pleasure
isbn: 9781474071512
isbn:
She couldn’t remember wanting anyone so badly.
Leaning forward, she kissed her way along the ridges of his stomach as she tugged her ruffled panties down her thighs. They fell to the ground, and she licked her way back up to his clavicle.
The rough sound of his voice as he swore raised goose bumps across her chest.
She reached for the button on his jeans, undid it, and then gave his zipper a firm tug, reveling in the inadvertent brushes of her fingers against the evidence of his desire.
At some point he’d retrieved a condom from somewhere, and she tugged her borrowed skirt up her legs in preparation as he pulled himself free of his underwear. Jesus, he was beautiful. Long and thick. Kaylee watched in fascination as he fisted his cock, stroking the length of it twice before rolling on the condom with his other hand.
She was so turned on, desperate for him to ease the ache he’d built inside her. Everything went still for a moment, and then they were all over each other, and he was hoisting her up, the edge of the cold metal shelf pressing into her bare ass. Kaylee grabbed the shelf above her head as an anchor.
The thrill of wanting to touch him but not being able to heightened her pleasure as he buried his lips against her neck and pushed deep inside her. She was so wet, so primed for this, the culmination of this incredible night, and the hot, sweet friction didn’t disappoint. He growled with pleasure, nipping the sensitive skin of her neck before laving it with his tongue.
Oh God. This illicit tryst made her feel so damn sexy, like being onstage but more potent. More visceral. To be lusted after by this man she’d wanted for so long was everything. She locked her ankles together at the small of his back, glorying in his panting thrusts, loving everything about the moment. The clean, spicy smell of him, the rasp of his beard abrading her skin, the sound of his ragged breathing.
Aidan was fucking her in a dive-bar supply closet.
Aidan was fucking her like he meant it.
Aidan.
It was too much. Too much sensation. Too many feelings.
The tingling in her abdomen said she was close, even though it was way too soon.
Desperate to touch him, she let go of the shelf above her head and grabbed his face. His beard prickled the palms of her hands as she buried her fingers in his hair and dragged his lips to hers, gasping against his mouth as she came.
The orgasm hit her like a tidal wave, gathering force as it rolled through her before crashing in a burst of pleasure that put everything she’d ever accomplished with her showerhead to shame.
This was not what she was used to—staid, missionary sex with a long-term partner.
This was passion unleashed. Elemental.
This was a decade of wanting made real.
When he’d grabbed her hand and tugged her into a supply closet, Aidan had been expecting a quick, utilitarian fuck against the wall. He sure as hell hadn’t expected her to melt all over him after a couple of strokes, but she’d definitely come, gasping against his mouth before she’d kissed him into oblivion.
Sexy as fuck.
And yeah, it had been a while for him, sure, but that didn’t explain the way she was blowing his mind right now. There was something about this woman, something different that he didn’t understand at all.
He slid his hands up her torso until his thumbs made contact with the soft, sweat-slick undersides of her breasts, and he wondered what shade of pink her nipples might be under the sparkly pasties. Not knowing just made him want her more. He flexed the fingers of his left hand on her rib cage as though he might be able to feel the butterfly etched into her skin.
He was so goddamn close, but he wasn’t ready to lose this mindless pleasure quite yet, wasn’t ready for this to be over. And then, to his surprise, she tightened her legs around his waist and started undulating her hips. The way she was grinding and twisting herself against him and the sudden restlessness of her body, the soft noises she made in her throat, signaled she was going for round two.
Jesus. She was going to come again, and the realization made him so hot that it took everything in him to hold off the heat and desperation that was building in his balls, the unstoppable rocking of his hips.
He focused on the bite of her nails on his skin, doing his best to read the rhythm of her movements, granting her wordless requests as she brought herself to the brink again, falling over the edge with a sweet cry, and this time, he couldn’t help but follow.
His thighs shook as he twisted his hips as high inside her as he could get before he gave in to the inevitable, riding the contractions of her muscles to a climax that rocked through him with such force he had to grab the shelving unit to steady himself.
She was kissing him as she unlocked her ankles and slid down his body, a decadent, satiated kiss that felt like thank you and you’re welcome at the same time. When Aidan had recovered enough to open his eyes, it was to find her staring up at him, sexy and triumphant.
Which he understood. He felt like a fucking conqueror just then.
Aidan leaned down and kissed her again, lingering over her mouth before he pulled away. She smiled to herself as she tugged the skirt back down her thighs and reached for her discarded clothing. Aidan took care of the condom and zipped himself back into place before donning his T-shirt.
On a whim, he grabbed his leather jacket from the ground, pulling his phone and gloves from the pocket before he draped it over her bare shoulders. Startled, she looked up from fastening her corset, and something...familiar flashed through his chest, but he couldn’t quite place it. There’d been a flash of vulnerability, a glimpse of the woman behind the vixen, but he couldn’t get the pieces to fit.
“Take the jacket,” he told her, his voice sounding gruff, even to his own ears. It was too big on her, obviously, and there was no reason he should like seeing her in it, but he did. The realization made him uneasy.
He didn’t like the sudden shift in his chest. Meaning being assigned to what was nothing more than some great fucking in a supply closet. A momentary and mutual escape into pleasure. It was just a jacket, he assured himself as he turned away from her and pulled the door open a crack to check if the coast was clear.
It was, and he let her duck under his arm and slip through, awareness prickling all over his skin as she pressed into him more than necessary on her way out. Those electric-blue eyes snagged with his for a split second, a final farewell, and then she was gone.
Aidan closed the door behind her and wrestled his body, so recently sated, back under control before he, too, ducked out of the supply closet. He didn’t look for her again, just pushed out the side door, revved up his motorcycle, and took the long way home.