Page 8 of Thorns of Desire
The woman standing before the window, her fingers resting against the glass as she looked over the city spread out beneath her, rivaled the seventeen-thousand-dollar-per-night view from my hotel’s top suite, no questions asked.
“Would you like something to drink?” I offered. After all, I didn’t want to be the heathen intent on rutting into her beyond all else, even though it was the only thing on my mind at the moment.
Her eyes darted to me for a moment, and she said, “No, I’m good, thanks,” before glancing back at the city’s twinkling lights.
I studied her petite frame with that narrow waist and beautiful curvy hips while visions of her bent over the back of the couch and our sweat-slicked bodies moving together played in my mind.
I loosened my tie, thumbing the silky material as I imagined wrapping it around her wrists, holding them above her head, and thrusting into her tight heat. But I had to deliver on my promise first.
I came to stand behind her, my painfully hard cock brushing against her round ass. She inhaled sharply, then looked over her shoulder at me. She didn’t turn around, just waited, and it was such a fucking turn-on.
I pulled the zipper of her dress down, the sound, mixed with her soft breaths, sending a seductive echo through the room. It dropped silently to the floor while my attention zeroed in on an angry scar on her left shoulder blade.
I traced my finger over it lightly, careful not to hurt her, the texture rough. She stiffened but didn’t move away.
“What’s this?” I asked her.
She glanced over her shoulder. “A burn mark.”
Bending my head down, I pressed a kiss against it. “How did it happen?”
Inhaling deeply, she slowly released her breath. “Fire,” she muttered. “I’m not fond of them.” Then she turned her face away from me. “Now, are we going to talk or get busy?”
I let out a sardonic breath. “Which would you prefer?”
Her answer was demonstrative. Her lacy bra and panties joined her dress on the floor, leaving her in nothing but her strappy heels.
With one hand, I tilted her head to the side and brushed my lips against the soft skin of her neck, tracing my tongue over her fluttering pulse. I couldn’t help but bite gently, needing to mark her somehow, the impulse foreign.
“Turn around,” I ordered, my voice gravelly.
As she faced me, my eyes were immediately drawn to her full breasts as they rose and fell, her pink nipples forming hard little points and begging me for attention.
I reached up and cupped one full breast in the palm of my hand, bending my head to take the tight peak into my mouth. She arched her back, her head falling against the window and her hands coming up to clutch my hair. I swirled my tongue around her nipple and was rewarded with a moan.
I moved my attention to her other breast, nipping and biting at her tender tip and then easing the sting with a light brush of my tongue.
“Manuel,” she gasped as I grazed my teeth against it. “I need… more.”
I straightened, releasing her nipple with a soft pop, and met her half-lidded gaze. She stood there naked, the night sky as her backdrop, snaking her hand down her stomach, down between her thighs, and brushing her fingers against her slick entrance.
Fuck, she was perfect.
The fact she didn’t feign shyness was so incredibly sexy, I couldn’t resist unzipping my pants to pull out my aching shaft. Athena’s eyes widened, fixating on my cock.
“Fuck, you’re big,” she breathed, working herself faster. I wrapped my fingers around it and started to pump myself. “Are you going to fuck me?”
Dio, she was gorgeous.
I tightened my grip on my cock at the clear invitation in her voice. “No,amorina. First I’m going to eat your dripping wet pussy.”
I released my shaft and gripped her wrist, stopping her frantic movements as she worked her clit.
“No,” she whimpered, arousal trickling down her inner thighs and perfuming the air. Fuck, she smelled like honeydew in the spring. She squirmed, her fingers reaching for her clit, then letting out a pouty protest. “Manuel, I’m so close.”
I reached down with one hand, running it up her thigh, then watched her face as I brushed my fingers over her wet folds. Her lips parted and her eyes went glassy as my thumb pressed against her damp, swollen spot. Her hips bucked and a whispered moan dropped from her lips.
“You’ll come with my mouth on your pussy,” I growled, my lips traveling down until they hovered just over hers before licking her bottom lip sensually. Pressing deeper, I slid my finger into her slick heat. My throat went dry. Eager to replace my fingers with my mouth, I murmured, “I’m going to fuck your cunt with my fingers and get you ready to take every inch of my cock.”
