Page 41 of Auctioned for Her Blood
My breath shudders against his lips as my body pulses, and I’ve never felt anything so wonderful. And we’ve barely started—I hope.
I want this part to go on forever, his lips kissing, his hands exploring, the ecstasy of the feelings it all ignites inside me, but as much as I love this, my body craves more. The intense internal waves of contraction have slowed now, but the rest of me—it continues to move under his touch.
Out of my conscious control, I slide and press against him, as hungry for his skin as his hands seem to be for mine.
A hand nudges the back of my thigh, and I lift my leg without thinking. Clearly my sex is making the decisions now, fighting to get closer to his hard body.
My action’s rewarded, and he pulls me in tight against his leather trousers, his thigh even more rigid than I expect.
I moan against his lips as the new pressure sends even more pleasure coursing through me, tightening parts deep inside and sending sparks to the outer universe of my being.
My hips pulse against his leg, and his hand grabs my ass to press me in harder and I realize the ridge I’m feeling against my needy softness is…
“Ah!” I throw back my head and cry out, unable to contain the pleasure as I realize that it’s his erection rubbing my sex, stroking me with only leather and the thin strip of my thong between us.
My body is completely flooded with desire now, and I tense for a moment, wondering if he can tell how wet I am, wondering if I’m soaking his trousers with my dampness.
He pulls his hips back and lowers my foot to the floor, but before I can process my disappointment, he encases my skull in one large, strong hand and kisses me again, while his other hand slides under my dress to caress my upper thighs.
I miss the strong pressure of his sex on mine, but this, this soft stroking so close to where I’m on fire, is divine—better than divine—and then my vocabulary utterly fails me as his fingers stray higher, teasing the junction that joins my legs to my torso, tickling my pubic hair and stroking softly over the thin silk covering my mound.
My breathing accelerates as my dress drops off my shoulders, and then, not breaking our kiss, he adjusts our bodies to let my gown drop to the carpet.
His thumbs hook into the elastic at the top of my thong, and he crouches as he pulls the flimsy garment down to my ankles. I lean onto his shoulders as he carefully helps me lift one foot then the other, to step out of the panties.
Rising again to tower above me, he guides me forward, hands grazing over my butt, the backs of my thighs, and I step past my discarded clothing. I’m fully naked before him now, but not cold; my skin blasted by an internal furnace and the heat of his hands.
I close my eyes as we kiss, and we start moving. It’s not toward the bedroom, but I trust him to guide me; I’m not even sure I’d be able to see if my eyes were open. Then he turns me, and my back touches something hard and cold.
Opening my eyes, I find I’m naked against the window.
He breaks our kiss, and I’m about to object, but then his mouth distracts me, drifting lower and lingering against my throat. There, his teeth scrape my skin again and his lips latch onto my throat. He sucks gently as his tongue flicks against my pulse.
He groans, so deeply I can feel it travel through his lips and into my body, but then he breaks his seal with my throat, and moves lower, kissing my shoulders, my neck, my collarbones, my chest. And then his fingers and lips find my breasts.
Softly kneading my breasts, he tugs gently on my nipples, which tighten to impossibly hard points under his touch, and his increasingly sharp tweaks on my nipples tighten something deep in my belly, as if the nerves in my breasts and sex are connected. Perhaps they are.
Looking into my eyes, he flicks his finger over the tip of my nipple, and I’ve never felt or seen anything more intense.
His other hand slides between my legs.
My head snaps back against the window and he strokes over my curls, dampened with my sweat and desire. Embarrassment flickers, and I look back into his eyes. If he minds the dampness, he doesn’t show it.
Instead, he bends over, latches onto one of my nipples and sucks while his fingers sweep along the seam of my folds. My body shudders, more like convulses, in a spasm completely outside my control.
His lips release my breast. “You okay?” His finger strokes my damp seam, and my hips won’t stop moving. I’ve never felt so sensitive, like every nerve in my body is sparking at once.
“Yessss,” I say. “Very okay.”
He grins, and then his finger slides deeper, splitting my folds to drag through my most intimate place. His finger pad grazes my opening, and I gasp as new sparks of pleasure pulsate through me.
“You’re so wet,” he says, his voice deep. “So fucking ready.” His finger continues to slide, forward and back, forward and back, dividing me over and over, and making me gasp each time he hits somewhere new down there.
He claims that I’m ready. But am I? The thought of that hard ridge I felt—so massive and thick—is terrifying.
But I want this, I want it so badly. I want to lose my virginity and I want to lose it tonight—to Ryker—yet at the same time I’m afraid, unable to imagine the reality of his huge hardness forcing its way inside me. Maybe it isn’t as thick as it felt through his pants?
“Yessss.” My word comes out on a shuddery exhale as his finger grazes my opening, and he moans in response.
