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

and lazy explorations, watching her every expression so intently, she thought she might die from the tenderness he evoked in her chest.

From the agonizing ache he conjured in her core.

They both learned her pleasure was found if teased around the nub, skipping over it with whisper-soft strokes and shivering thrums.

Felicity felt as if she’d become intoxicated, the world spinning behind her eyes when they closed, drowning in the heat and pure liquid pleasure of the moment.

She’d read about le petite mort. The little death. The culmination of sexual pleasure he’d only just found in her hands. And still, as something potent and powerful spun toward her like a whirlwind, threatening to drag her away from herself, she was ashamed to find she panicked a little.

Gripping his shoulders, she gasped his name, which escaped as a question.

“I’m here, mon amour,” he murmured, nuzzling at her, pressing gentle, tender kisses against her mouth as she writhed and ground against his hand.

He kissed down her neck, her chest, and found her bare breasts with an appreciative groan, reveled there for a moment, dragging his tongue around the puckered flesh of her areola, doing his utmost to keep his stubble from abrading the sensitive nerves.

“Who is your God, Felicity? You are too fucking beautiful to be made of the same clay and dust as the rest of us.” His blasphemy was beautiful, and it sang in her bones as he closed his hot mouth around her nipple and laved it with his tongue.

A moan hummed from between her lips as her thighs fell wider of their own accord. His fingers had found the perfect rhythm, and pulled the pinnacle of pleasure from the deepest parts of her.

The spasms engulfed her in wonderous waves of delight, culminating in her core and then spreading through her veins in sparkling surges. Very far away, someone made the most pathetic of noises, mewls and pants and pleas. She barely heard them as the glorious sensations intensified. Her body bowed and arched, pulsing with a pleasure so acute, she worried her muscles might strain to the point of snapping.

Eventually, her body became one raw nerve, and she collapsed, folding her knees up, seeking escape from an abundance of ecstasy.

Only when she returned to herself, did she realize those sounds had been ripped from her own throat.

Feeling more than a little vulnerable, she reared up to tug at him, needing warmth and weight and comfort.

He complied, immediately, cautiously rolling to cover her with agonizing deliberation, draping himself over her, but never settling his weight fully.

Beneath him she melted like a candle that’d spent its entire wick, a puddle of pliant warmth.

It was too easy to luxuriate in his tender care of her as he stroked her hair, dropping featherlight kisses on her brow, her eyelids, her nose. Her cheekbones. The corners of her mouth.

She loved this. Being spread beneath him, her thighs obliged wider to accept his bulk.

And every part that’d been relaxed and released went instantly rigid as the hot brand of his hard sex pressed against her.

He was ready… again.

* * *

Everything that made Gabriel a man rippled beneath his skin at the electrifying contact of his sex and hers. He squeezed his eyes shut in half a wince and half an expression of wonder.

To spend in her hand had been a blessing, as she’d not only released a torrent of the most powerful pleasure he’d yet known, but she’d also released the hold his overwhelming lust had on his brain and body.

But when she’d parted her lovely slim thighs, unveiling the secrets of her body to him, his cock had become painfully full again.

Felicity wasn’t the first woman he’d seen in the nude. So much of his business had been done in crude places and alleys where ladies exposed themselves for money, or serviced a man outside with only the shadows to conceal them.

It was good, he supposed, not for the sake of comparison, but because if he’d not had at least a general idea of what existed beneath a woman’s dress, the sight of her bare ass when he’d walked into the room might have killed him.

Let alone the rest of her. The alabaster perfection of her peach-tipped breasts. The flush of her smooth skin…

Her sex. Pink, pretty flesh nestled in a feather dusting of dark gold curls.

If he did nothing in his life to be proud of, her pleasure was enough to make him feel like a god. The arch of her sinuous body, the lithe movements of her hips as she rode the waves of her climax.

A climax he’d provided.

He’d meant to keep the evidence of his desire away from her, but his body betrayed him, seeking the warmth only she could provide.

Their gazes clashed when the barrel of his cock settled against the heat of her core. He could still feel the little pulses of her pleasure throbbing in time to the increasing heartbeat surging through his shaft.

Not daring to move, he schooled the need out of his features. He could think of nothing other than drilling into her like the base and perverse animal he was, but the need was tempered by his regard for her.

His love.

Her eyes had gone heavy and sleepy after she’d come, and her need for his closeness broke his heart into tender shards.

If this was all they did tonight, he was satisfied.

Well… satisfied was too strong a word. But he recognized with unquestionable thoroughness just how bloody fortunate he was to have done what they did.

It would never be enough.

Felicity slid her hands around to his back and scorched little paths of fire over the thick bands of muscle. Muscle he was glad he possessed if only to use it in service of her. To keep and protect her. To perform the labor she physically could not, and have the strength and stamina to provide her pleasure.

To keep from crushing her now as her hips pressed gently upward, pressing his cock against that marvelous, pliant