He kneaded her breasts with sure, strong fingers, the calloused texture of his hands scratching on the silk of her bra. It was a minute detail, a tiny sensory recognition in an ocean of stimulation and pleasure. She could hear the roughness of his palms catching the material every time he raked his hands over her breasts and it aroused her even more. That his hands were roughened by a life of hard manual work, that his fingers were calloused from roping cattle and riding horses… The sheer masculinity of his touch sent waves of raw need through her and she succumbed. Willingly let herself get lost in every sensation.

“Oh yes, Dylan,” she murmured, fisting her hands in his hair. “That feels so good.”

In response, he drew harder on her nipple, laving its tip as he did so, soaking her bra. She closed her eyes and pushed her hips high, her pussy pulsing with urgent demand.

His hands rasped over her skin, down to her hip. They dipped beneath the waistline of her panties and cupped her ass. Her heart rate quickened, tripping over a beat when the tips of his fingertips brushed the clenching ring of her anus.

A soft gasp escaped her and Dylan lifted his head, his green gaze an inferno of desire. “I won’t touch you there if you don’t want me to, love.”

The low words stroked over Monet like a caress. She shivered. There were many things she’d done in her sex life. She wasn’t a prude, but her ass had always been off-limits. There were other parts of her body that enjoyed being touched, sucked, licked and fucked, thank you very much. Other orifices. But when Dylan’s fingers feathered over her puckered hole…

Another shiver rippled through her and she shifted in his cupping hands. Heat filled her cheeks and she caught her bottom lip with her teeth. “I…I’m not…”

Dylan shook his head. “Shhh. When,if, you’re ready, you tell me. Otherwise it’s a no-go zone. Promise.”

I’m ready.

The words almost slipped from her lips. There wasn’t a molecule in her body that didn’t trust Dylan. That didn’t want to go with him to whatever plane of pleasure he took her to.

She studied his face, her pulse wild in her throat, her mouth dry, her pussy a hot throb, and nodded. “When I’m ready,” she said, her voice a husky whisper.

Dylan’s nostrils flared. “Until then, there’s always this.” He smoothed one hand between her thighs and dipped two fingers into her folds.

Shards of wicked sensation sank into Monet’s very center. She whimpered, lifting one leg to hook it around Dylan’s back. Deeper. She wanted his fingers deeper.

No, that wasn’t right. She wantedallof him. Now.

“Dylan,” she murmured, sliding her heel up his back as she tried to draw his cock closer to her sex. “Inside me. I want…” His fingers wriggled within her heat and she released a shaky moan. “Please fuck me. I can’t wait…any longer.”

“Yes you can.” His lips grazed the cleft between her breasts, up her throat to her earlobe. “I want you so fucking much, love, but I’m not rushing.” His lips nipped at her earlobe. “I’m going to take this slow. Make you come over and over again. With my fingers…” He stroked her g-spot with two purposeful swipes and, as if to prove his point, liquid heat unfurled through her cunt. “With my mouth, my tongue.”

He nibbled on her neck, each gentle bite sending fresh moisture to her pussy.

“Oh God.” She couldn’t stop her moan.

He explored her neck with his lips, all the while seeking the sweet spot within her sex time and again with his fingers. Just when she didn’t think she could survive much longer, when the orgasm building in her core threatened to detonate, he withdrew his hand and eased down her body.

Dylan stripped her jeans and panties completely off with excruciating slowness before, with a low groan, he captured her clit with his mouth.

She cried out, the abrupt change in stimulation providing a wicked jolt of electric sensations. He continued to work her body that way, building her climax to an exquisite crest with his mouth and then swapping to his fingers, letting her orgasm ebb to a thrumming need before returning to her pussy, her clit, with his mouth and tongue again. Over and over, layering pleasure upon pleasure. Building tension upon unbearable tension until even the slight kiss of his breath fanning her inner thighs was enough to almost make her scream with release.

And all the while, she begged for more. Begged for fulfillment. Pleaded with him to bury himself to the root in her cunt and fuck her.

She’d never used such words before, but the raw want Dylan had awoken, the utter craving for his turgid cock and the completion it would bring pushed her there. She scraped at his shoulders with her nails, a distant part of her mind recognizing he was still fully dressed.

It didn’t detract from the rapture claiming her. He had reduced her to a being of pure want. A creature who existed for one reason only—to be pleasured by him. When he hauled her roughly to his face, her knees draped over his shoulders, his tongue lapping and rolling over her clit, it was all she could do not to drown in elemental need. She fisted her hands in the duvet, stared blankly at the ceiling of her bedroom and hung on, just hung on until, toes curling, a keening sound tearing from her throat, her climax smashed into her. Pummeled her. Made her cry out and buck against his face.

He lashed at her sodden pussy and swollen clit with his tongue, blunt nails digging into her hips. She closed her eyes, wordless pleas of mercy falling from her parted lips, her breath shallow and rapid.

He gave it to her. A reprieve from the mastery of his touch.

A brief reprieve.

Before the throbbing pulses of her orgasm could begin to fade, he slid up her body and covered her with his weight, his thumb on her clit, his flesh on hers.

Flesh. Skin on skin. At some point he’d removed his shirt and Monet’s mind detonated with the velvet perfection of his warmth sliding over her. His chest was finely dusted with hair, the strands tickling her nipples through the thin barrier of her bra.

“Do you have any fucking clue how good you feel against my body?” The question left him on a growl, his lips working the sensitive area of her collarbone, her shoulder.