Page 87 of If the Slipper Fits
He nibbled his way to her ear, then nipped at her earlobe.
His soft mouth, his hot breath, his sharp teeth, had her wriggling in unfathomable excitement.
“You squirming is driving me mad,” he murmured, not sounding the least bit annoyed.
His fingertips cruised down her neck, over her décolleté, to cup one breast.
The heat from his palm seared her skin through her nightshift. He squeezed lightly then his fingers found her nipple to toy with it through the thin fabric. A delicious shock of pleasure rippled through her with every gentle pull.
His hair tickled her nose as he lowered his head. When his teeth clamped softly over her other nipple, an inarticulate sound of awe escaped her. He suckled her through her gown, gently, reverently.
She closed her eyes and gave herself over to the wondrous, drugging sensations. Each pull of his mouth tightened her insides in a conflagration of heat, and nameless need. For Caden. Only Caden. It had onlyever been Caden. Her nails scored his nape and she arched upward inviting the delicious torture.
“More, minx?” He blew on the damp fabric.
She couldn’t speak. She shoved at his robe, baring his neck and back to her touch.
Abruptly, he propped himself onto his knees, tore off his robe, and flung it to the ground. The dying firelight reflected the blue heat swirling in his gaze as he stared down at her like a starving man eyeing a feast.
Wherever his gaze landed, his hands followed.
With maddening gentleness he traced a path down her center, from her breastbone to her belly button, as if she were naked before him rather than clothed in a prim white nightgown.
The area between her legs thrummed as if he’d touched her there. She wanted him to touch her there. She felt brazen and wicked, and didn’t care a jot.
“Mm,” he murmured, his hand cruising lower to cup her sex, depressing the fabric to burrow his fingers between the hot petals guarding her secrets.
She drew in a sharp breath at the unspeakable pleasure.
He dropped onto one elbow and stared down at her.
Biting her lip, she stared back, captivated by the desperation in his eyes.
Never shifting his gaze, his hand gripped fistfuls of her nightdress, bunching the material upward, ever upward. Cold night air brushed her calfs, then her knees, then her thighs. She shivered as goosebumps sprouted over her flesh, despite the red-hot flames of need licking at her insides.
“What have we here?” His gaze raked over her bared flesh, his fingertips tracing up her naked thigh, over her hip.
Uncontrollable tremors wracked her. She reached for him, cupping his nape to pull him toward her.
He acceded to her wordless demand, his mouth taking hers, his tongue slipping past her parted lips as his fingers explored—her belly, her curls, and finally,finallythe aching flesh between her legs.
She moaned, enraptured by the molten thrill of his touch.
“Darling…darling,” he breathed, swallowing her choked pleas as his fingers found and lingered over one particularly sensitive spot.
She clutched at him, arching into the most intoxicating sensation she’d ever known. “Caden. Oh, Caden.”
“You like this?” he whispered gruffly, his clever fingers playing over her.
Her insides went taut, like a spring coiled dangerously tight. She crooned, desperate, wordlessly begging for…she didn’t know.
But Caden knew. He drove her closer. Closer. So close she could almost taste it—and then she crested a rolling wave, crying out as she rode it higher, higher, finally reaching the pinacle where glorious glittering sensation exploded within her.
He swallowed her cries with his mouth, his fingers coaxing every last bit of pleasure from her body, until she lay limp and utterly replete.
She had no notion of Caden removing his trousers or easing atop her. She only knew the weight of him pressing her into the mattress felt right, his manhood nudging her opening righter still.
He shuddered, his face a rigid mask of, she’d swear, pain. The thick tip of his erection pulsed against her sensitive flesh. “Anna,” he choked.
