Tempting Fate by Kerrigan Byrne (trending books to read .txt) 📗

His hands fell to her nightdress with a moan of equal parts torment and titillation. He plotted a course he’d no map to, down the dramatic slope of her back into a narrow waist, and then flaring to hips widened by her posture, seated with open legs.

Christ, he’d yearned for so long.

A lifetime.

The scent of her, spices and sweetness, frayed what was left of his sanity.

And the feel of her nails scoring his scalp, then angling south to dip beneath the open collar of his shirt and nudge it down his shoulders, unraveled it completely.

His fingers fell upon the belt of her wrapper, releasing it so he could plunge his hands inside. Wishing his hands were steady, he smoothed them over the silk of her gown, down to the swell of her breasts. They each gasped as his knuckles grazed her nipples, pulling them impossibly tighter. He tested the insignificant weight of her breasts, marveling at the pliant abundance of flesh. Unwittingly, his lips followed the path his hands had forged, kissing over the fabric until his lips hovered above the twin protrusions.

He encircled the silk with his mouth, gently pressing the pebbled peak between his lips.

The resulting arch in her back, accompanied by her breathy sob, encouraged him onward. Both his languages deserted him as he felt the abrasion of the silk against the stubble on his jaw.

Fuck, but he wanted her naked. Exposed and open, draped in a bed of silks and satins and velvet and fur, rolling in every decadent sensation as their skin slid against one another.

As he slid inside of her.

Never had he been so hard. So out of his fucking mind with lust.

And yet, a reverence kept him from rending the gown from her body. Better she stay covered for now. That his first exploration should have boundaries.

Only when her legs opened wider, did he realize that his hands had fallen to her thighs. He’d been so focused on discovering her breasts… but now a different warmth beckoned.

Wanting to spare her the intensity of his visage, he couldn’t help but straighten to gaze down on her. To gauge her reluctance or her acceptance. To observe her reactions and assess her needs, as he had no knowledge or skill to draw upon.

For once, he couldn’t find a single hint of fear anywhere on her beautiful features.

Thank God.

It was the only thing that could have stopped him.

Both of his hands resting on her thighs, he used his thumbs to caress the quivering muscle beneath the gown, searching for the seam of undergarments.

He went as high on her thigh as he could, finding none.

No discovery ever made by a man had been so erotic. Of this, he was certain.

Their eyes locked as his thumb ventured forward, discovering the little thatch of soft hair against the silk.

Her mouth opened, but no sound escaped. Only increasingly short breaths.

How anyone could breathe at a time like this was beyond him.

Emboldened, he found the seam to her sex and ventured forward, sliding through the folds. The silk beneath the pad of his thumb became instantly damp and slick, and the whimper she emitted froze him in place.

He whispered her name. A plea. A prayer. A request for permission.

Her eyes were wide behind her spectacles, but she rolled her hips forward, pressing the sweet outline of her sex against his finger as she lifted her face in search of a reassuring kiss.

Barely able to focus on what his lips and fingers were doing in tandem, he closed his eyes and gave in to pure instinct. Delving with his tongue. With his thumb.

Until she let out a little cry into his mouth.

When he would have pulled back, her hand went to his, imprisoning him there.

There.

“There,” she gasped. “Oh. Oh my.”

The wondrous pleasure in her voice elicited a surge of masculine elation. He’d found something. Something she wanted. Something she liked. A turgid little nub just below the peak of her soft mound.

He thrummed it over the wet silk with the pad of his thumb. Once. Twice. Eliciting hitches of breath from her each time.

“Yes.” She answered the question he didn’t ask. “Yes. Like that. It… it feels like… like…”

Words seemed to abandon her as he dared to press a little deeper, to stroke a little faster. Her thighs twitched beneath his hands, clenching and releasing in demanding little bursts. She clutched at his shoulders and tossed back her head, exposing the vulnerable skin of her throat.

Unable to stop himself, he pressed his lips beneath her jaw and tasted the rich flavor of her skin. Soap and salt and something sweeter. Something undeniably Felicity.

In that moment, Gabriel knew he had to taste all of her before he would ever be satisfied.

Every inch.

He didn’t know what he expected to find between her thighs, but these pleats of moist heat were better than anything his imagination conjured. To press his cock here, to locate the source of the wetness—

Felicity’s fingers became gentle claws, scoring their way over the quivering ridges of his abdomen only to stop at the barrier of his waistband.

Every thought he had deserted him like a flock of scattered birds at the shot of a rifle.

She slipped a finger beneath his waistband, pulling his hips closer, drawing his body against hers as she arched up for another kiss.

Those curious, devious hands ventured down the placket of buttons, finding the turgid ridge of his sex aching to reach her.

At her first caress, his palms slammed to the shelf on both sides of her, holding the weight that his knees could no longer support.

“It’s… so thick,” she marveled in his ear.

Her testing of the length and girth of him only produced strangled, desperate sounds from his throat, as he fought not to unman himself right there.

“Am I hurting you?” she fretted.

He shook his head, and that seemed to embolden her to attempt to grip him.

“Christ. Jesus. Fuck.”

He should be ashamed of his blasphemy in her presence, but it exploded from him in helpless bursts.

“What does