Page 15 of The Tycoon's Pet

I let my gaze rake over her again, hungry for the sight of her. Her flowery scent teases my nose, heightening the savage lust burning in my veins. A snarl of obscenity escapes my lips at the sight of one taut nipple peeking out from between strands of red curls, her breasts rising with each rapid breath. I didn't think it was possible to want a woman this badly, to truly want her, to want to please her. Somehow it heightens my need for her, but it also leaves me feeling something I haven't felt for a long time—nerves.

I'd laugh if anyone ever told me I'd be anxious about sex but then again, I've never had sex with a virgin, or someone I love.

What if I disappoint her or, worse, hurt her?

Fuck!

"Come here." Heart hammering in my chest, I tuck a finger beneath her chin, duck down, and brush my lips over hers, gratified by the little shivers that passed through her. I'll take this slowly, giving her body and her mind all the time she needs to adjust and truly enjoy it. And then… I'll have her.

I fight back the desire to kiss her, instead letting her anticipation build as I trail my mouth over her shoulder, tasting the honey-sweet skin of her throat. I suck her earlobe, teasing the whorl of her ear with my tongue. Only when she begins to shake in my arms do I bring my lips back to hers. I kiss the corners of her mouth, nip her lower lip, tracing the outline of her lips with my tongue. Then, at last, I kiss her, inhaling her whimper as our tongues meet.

She seems to melt in my arms, every soft, sweet inch of her pressed against me, the feminine feel of her making my body tense, a bolt of heat searing through my gut. She kisses me back with all the fire in her soul, matching me stroke for stroke, her timid exploration of my mouth blowing whatever was left of my mind. I'm lost in her, lost in the scent and feel of her, need for her thrumming in my veins.

I lift my head, pin her arms above her head with one hand, then reach down with the other to cup her breasts, teasing her petal-soft nipples into tight hard buds. I tug them with my fingers and flick them with my thumbs. She gasps, then moans, a sound of unmistakable female arousal.

“God, I love your tits,” I moan gruffly. They're soft, yielding to my hand as I cup and plump them, their tips so sensitive that the merest flick of my thumb makes her shiver. Then I duck down, flicking my tongue over each puckered peak, then I close my mouth over her right nipple and suck.

She cries out, whimpers, arching her back, offering herself to me, her arms still pinned above her head.

“Oh, Paul…”

Driven by the plea in her voice and my own desperate hunger, I tug on her nipple with my lips, flick it with my tongue, and suckle it, cupping her other breast with my free hand, my thumb tracing circles on the sensitive underside.

God, she's so responsive!

Her breathing comes in shudders, her body trembling, her eyes squeezed shut, a look of torment on her sweet face. I shift my mouth to her other nipple, grazing her skin with the edge of his teeth, then sucking hard. I want to please her, want so goddamned badly to please her. I want to make her burn for me the way I burn for her.

"Paul, please!" She squirms against him, her hips lifting off the bed, seeking relief. I raise my head and release her wrists, feeling her fingers clench in my hair.

I flick a nipple with my tongue, teasing her. “Please what, Butterfly? Want me to stop?”

She gives a frustrated moan. “Please don't stop!”

Only too happy to oblige her, I lower my mouth to a wet nipple, sucking and nipping her as I nudge my hand between her thighs, lift her right leg, and drape it over my hip, spreading her wide. I slide my hand over the sensitive skin of her inner thighs, teasing her, working my way slowly upward.

Christ, I can feel her heat.

It radiates from within her. Her sultry, musky scent pervades my head, igniting every drop of testosterone in my blood. She whimpers my name, her nails digging into my scalp, her hips rising each time my hand draws near, then twisting in frustration when I draw my hand away again. When I’m certain I have her on the edge, I cup her damp curls—and ease a finger

inside her.

She lets out a breathy moan, her hot, slick vagina gripping my finger tight. I hear myself growl like some kind of damned animal, my hips flexing as if my cock is buried inside her instead of thrusting against her thigh.

Slow down, Carlton.

Forcing breath into my lungs, I try to relax. I stroke her, sliding a second finger inside her, stretching her.

“In a few minutes, my cock is going to be inside you, stroking you just like this,” I say, looking into her eyes, hoping she understands what I mean.

She shivers, then tenses up, and I know she finds the idea both arousing and maybe a little frightening. And that was okay, because so do I. I don't want to hurt her, but dammit, I don’t know if I can hold back much longer.

I gather her body's moisture, then withdraw my fingers and rub the silky wetness over her clit, the little pink bud swelling at my touch. Then I penetrate her again, sliding my fingers in and out, taking care to catch her clit with each deep stroke.

Her breath keeps coming out in ragged pants as I continue to stroke her, her face turned against my chest, her eyes squeezed shut, her body wracked with tension that seemed to arc through her and into me, shooting straight to my groin.

"I want you, Kayla." My words came out in urgent whispers as I flick her nipples with my tongue, unable to keep my mouth off her, my cock so hard it

aches. “I want to fuck you so bad it hurts.”

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