“That’s not fair!” She stood a few feet from him, her hair tumbling down in a silken cascade. She was breathing heavily and both hands cupped her aching breasts.
“Open your shirt.”
“I’m not opening my shirt. It will only encourage your little breast fetish.”
His eyes were on her hands. She moved her palms over her nipples, trying to relieve the ache. He looked up at her face. She was intent on following the stroke of his hand, wrapped around his erection. Her tongue darted out and moistened her lower lip. His body took on a life of its own, nearly jumping out of his hand. “Come here, Dahlia,” he said again. “I need you.”
* * *
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
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Nicolas was pure temptation, a devil standing there with his sinful smile and his dark, mesmerizing eyes. How could she possibly resist him? His reaction to their little game was enormous. And enticing. She took a step toward him, drawn in spite of herself.
“Unbutton your shirt. I want to look at you.”
His voice was so husky, so raw with hunger, a shiver went down her spine. He wasn’t in a playful mood anymore, and it showed in the lines of passion etched so clearly into his face.
Dahlia slipped each button free and allowed the shirt to gape open so the sun could caress her breasts. She cupped the weight of them in her hand, feeling achy and tight and swollen. But her gaze remained on his enormous erection and the drop of moisture glistening in anticipation of her compliance. She took another step toward him.
“Take off your jeans.”
She swallowed a sudden spiraling fear, but slowly did as he ordered. She pushed the jeans from her hips and down her legs, stepping out of them. She wore nothing underneath. She watched his breath quicken. Saw his hand tighten, glide smoothly up and down once, twice, in an effort to get relief. Dahlia reached down with one hand and snagged her jeans as she walked to him. “What exactly do you want?”
She walked close enough that her hair slid over the sensitive head of his erection as she dropped the jeans at his feet.
“Take off your shirt. I want to see you.”
Without a word she allowed the shirt to slip to the ground. Her hands covered his, slid lower to cup and squeeze his tight sac gently. She allowed her palms to slide over his hips and thighs as she knelt on the jeans in front of him.
Nicolas felt his breath slam out of his lungs, leaving him burning for air. Her mouth slid over him, hot and moist and as tight as a fist. Her tongue danced along his ultrasensitive rim, sending shivers of excitement down his spine and flames burning through his bloodstream. She had taken his fantasy right out of his head, all his thoughts as he’d run behind her, and now she was putting them into action. Her mouth was a miracle of heat. He flung out a hand to find an anchor but could only bury his fingers deep in her hair, urging her on while his hips began to follow the rhythm she set.
His teeth clenched and every muscle tightened. His blood sang and his heart pounded. The bayou came alive around him, dancing with sparklers, tiny stars of brilliant colors, and the electricity zigzagged in an arc as the sexual energy gathered to them, amplifying their every sensation. His fingers skimmed the sides of her breasts, went back to her hair as she performed an amazing dance with her tongue and then suckled as if he were an addicting confection.
Nicolas had never felt such a combination of savagery and love at the same time. A part of him was aware the energy influenced him, but very little of his brain seemed to function. He could only feel—and need. He knew he was being rough when he dragged her closer to him, wanting her to take him deeper, but he couldn’t seem to stop. She tantalized and tormented him and the more she did, the more the terrible pressure built until he was certain every part of him would detonate.