Page 81 of The Chase
“This one is already patented I’m afraid,” he said huskily. “But I’ll let you use it.”
“That’s very generous of you.”
His hand pressed me back onto him, his fingers curling in my hair and forcing the pace. “What you do to me, Leighton.”
“Call me Zara, or I’ll stop.” A flick of my tongue teased around his head, running up and down the veins and worshipping every inch of him.
“Zara, Zara, Zara.” He lifted his hips. “Oh, that’s good, baby. Suck harder. That’s it.”
Taking him all the way back into my throat, I massaged him with my tongue and lips, from hilt to tip, his breathing now ragged, his stomach muscles tensing.
Knowing I was sending him into a frenzy like this, just how he’d done to me, made my pride soar.
“My sweet Zara,” he whispered.
With my hand working him, my mouth lowered to suckle his balls, swirling my tongue around the delicate ridges, taking my own arousal to a fever pitch. My mouth now returned to the length of him, and took him all the way to the back of my throat, dragging my lips up to the tip and firmly down again, sucking in my cheeks as my hands cupped him gently.
“We need a condom,” he said in a rush.
“I might have one.”
“Might?” He sat up, half amused, half a man possessed as he gestured to me. “Hurry.” He undressed quickly, removing his shirt and trousers in record time.
Scrambling, I dragged open the side table drawer and felt around for the packet. When he snatched it out of my hand with a devilish smirk, I squealed with laugher.
God, his cock looked beautifully erect as he rolled on the clear sheath, shiny now and rock hard, an unnerving extension of his powerful physique rearing majestically out of dark blond curls. A pure statement of power.
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Rising and falling, my heart swelled as my body brushed against his.
Rising and falling, riding him swiftly, shuddering in ecstasy as I slammed down on him. His hips thrust to match my strikes with force, his face reading mine as though gauging my tolerance to the fiercest fucking.
Arching my back when he met my G-spot, my hair tumbling behind me, my fingers trailed over my breasts, only to be eased away by his hands. He took over pleasuring my sensitive nipples, blasting raw pleasure into them, bursting outward and downward and reaching all the way to my sex.
“Don’t want it to end.” I wanted to come again and again.
Just like I’d done half an hour ago when he’d pounced on me and pummeled me into a state of immovable bliss.
“We fit together perfectly, baby,” he crooned. “Do you feel that?”
“Yes.”
“Your skin feels like silk. I can’t stop touching you.” His hand reached between my thighs and his thumb circled, keeping his pounding inside me precise, revving me closer to the edge.
“Oh God,” I said, “I love it when you play with my clit!”
“Jesus,” he bit out.
Never had I felt so erotic, so feminine, and each time I caught wonderment as his gaze roamed over my curves.
“Titian would have killed to have painted you!” he whispered.
My gaze roamed over his sculptured torso and I knew I was making love to a sex god, a virile specimen of perfection, a sculptured art form who was breathtaking and talking and saying the kind of words I’d been starved of.
“I’m close, Zara.” His jaw muscles tightened, his focus proven by that line of perspiration trickling down his brow. “I need you to come.”
Unable to hold back anymore, my inner muscles milking him, my body crashing down hard to fill myself with him completely—
