Joy Ride by Desiree Holt (bill gates best books TXT) 📗

Marc’s laugh was laced with frustration. “I’m not saying you’re doing a bad job. The problem is you’re doing a damn good one. But I need you to stop before I lose control.”

He urged her head back and his cock slid from her lips. Gently, he helped her to stand.

“You don’t know how good you make me feel. Jesus. It was incredible.” He threaded his fingers through her hair, pushing it back from her face.

“Then why—?”

He touched a finger to her lips. “First of all—and this is not a slam in any way—I’m guessing you haven’t done this a lot. You have to work up to it, babe. To learn how to angle your head and let me slide down the back of your throat.” He feathered a kiss over her lips. “And I’m going to teach you, because no way are we crossing this off the list. But right now I want you on your back on the bed and me between your legs.”

He lifted her, bent enough to pull back the covers, and placed her carefully on the sheet. He stood looking at her for a long moment, hunger flashing in his eyes, before climbing onto the mattress and kneeling between her thighs.

Emma had never been so aroused in her entire life.

Marc made himself stop and take a deep breath. What was it about this woman that the moment he touched her, his control always frayed? He’d never wanted a woman the way he wanted her. And it wasn’t just sex. If that were the case after the first couple of nights, the edge would be off. He’d have settled down into a pattern with her, and it wouldn’t be every time he saw her. He wanted this to go forward, but hell! She wouldn’t even tell him her name. Yet deep inside, he knew they had something pretty special. He just didn’t know what to do about it.

He took a long time with her body, trailing slow wet kisses starting at the sensitive spot behind her ear, over the slope of her breasts, down her tummy, pausing to swirl the tip of his tongue in the indentation of her navel. He licked the seam where each thigh and hip joined, a light touch that skimmed her flesh before moving down the length of each leg. He paid special attention to her knees and ankles, even the arches of her feminine, graceful feet. He couldn’t seem to get enough of tasting her. He wondered if he ever would.

At last, when she was trembling beneath his hands, he spread the lips of her pussy with his thumbs and allowed himself a long, slow lap of pleasure. Her taste was intoxicating, sweet and tart at the same time, the flavor of it surging through his system. He flicked the nub of her clit back and forth, the bundle of nerves swelling beneath his touch. Her sensual little whimpers made his cock throb and his entire body tighten.

Stiffening his tongue, he thrust it inside her, tiny spasms in the walls of her cunt flexing against the intrusion. It was one of the most erotic things he’d ever experienced. Each time he sensed her closing in on an orgasm he backed off, soothing her then arousing her again.

He was so close to his own release now, the memory of her soft mouth on him an incredible aphrodisiac. He needed her to catch up because he sensed his control fast unraveling. Fucking her with his tongue, he stroked her clit again and again. Rub, rub, rub. He drove her up to a precipice, pushing her there, and when he could tell she was hanging by a thread, he sheathed himself with a shaky hand and drove into her with one fluid movement.

He tensed for a long moment, steadying himself, enjoying the feel of her around him like a tight, wet fist. Then he let himself go, pumping into her as she shattered around him, shouting “Music Lady” as he poured himself into her. At last he collapsed forward, exhausted, physically drained but filled with an emotion he dared not give a name to.

Emma couldn’t ever remember being so thoroughly exhausted yet so filled with pleasure at the same time. She hadn’t thought it possible for sex to be mystical, but with Marc that’s exactly what it had become. Every part of her body sang as if touched by some enchanted fog drifting over it and surrounding her. For a fleeting moment, she wished the rest of the world would disappear, and there would be nothing and no one except for her and Marc.

Too bad such a thing wasn’t possible.

Dragging more air into his lungs, he shifted position to pull her into his arms and gave her a gentle kiss. She could taste herself on his lips, an exotic awareness that flooded her senses. Lifting her hands, she smoothed her fingers through his hair, moist with the perspiration of exertion and inhaled his scent, a combination of musk and something earthy. She was sure the outdoors would forever be sexy and intoxicating.

He molded her to his body, her head cradled against his shoulder, one of her hands resting against the damp matte of his chest hair. His hands idly stroked her down the length of her back and the slope of her buttocks.

“You okay?” he asked when his breathing had evened out.

“More than okay. Much, much more.”

“Good. That’s good. So. Favorite television show.”

She frowned. “What?”

“You know. Twenty Questions. I ask, you give me an answer, then it’s your turn.”

“I answered a bunch the other night. Why do you want to know this stuff, anyway?” A tiny knot formed in the pit of her stomach. She couldn’t give away too much information to him. Sure, it was great they were learning more about each other, but what if she slipped and gave him clues she didn’t want him to follow? She was torn between sharing intimacy that went beyond sex