Read Online Be My Baby Tonight by Kasey Michaels - Free Book Online
Authors: Kasey Michaels
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him
closer, attempted to press her lower body even closer against his.
Slipped one bare leg through his, raised it slightly, pressed
again. Gloried in his arousal.
Shame, shame on... Oh, the hell with it.
They tumbled onto the bed together, his hands
everywhere, hers mimicking his as she skimmed his body, learned his
body, rejoiced in his body that fit so well with hers.
“You taste so good,” he said, then sluiced
his tongue between her breasts, sucked lightly on the side of her
throat. “And you smell good, too.”
She said something that disproved four
straight years of A’s in vocabulary. “Uh-huh.” And then she ran her
hands down his back, glorying in the ripple of his muscles as he
shifted above her, brought his mouth to her breast again.
All things considered, with her body singing,
her heart hammering, her breath catching in her throat, “Uh-huh”
was pretty damn articulate.
He moved his hand lower, slid it over the
flare of her hip, then concentrated for a moment on her navel,
circling it with one finger even as he pressed his palm flat
against her lower belly.
The pressure he created deep inside her made
her swallow down hard on the low moan that threatened to escape
her.
She moved her hips, raised them slightly as
she braced her bent legs against the mattress, wordlessly pleading
for more, more.
And then he was there, between her legs. His
hand, his fingers, touching her, opening her, stroking her, giving
all the proof she’d ever need that the man didn’t brag. He was more
than good. He was very, very good. A master of his craft.
Her hips went on autopilot, moving on their
own, pressing up against him each time he seemed to threaten to
leave her, stop what he was doing.
Heat, deep inside her. Building, building.
She clamped her teeth together hard, all her concentration on his
hand, on what he was doing to her. On his mouth, how it suckled on
her, how his tongue flicked at her nipple, sending wave after wild
wave of tingling awareness from her breasts to her belly, tying her
up in a huge knot that just had to be untied so that she could
break free. Soar.
And here it was, coming toward her as she
stood poised on the edge, waiting. Closer it came, that exquisite
tightness, that glorious pressure that built and built and built.
The hunger that consumed her.
A hunger she’d never known existed, until
Tim. Never even imagined.
She beat on his back with her fists, unable
to speak, unable to breathe, her heels digging into the mattress as
she thrust her hips high, then held them there for him. Open to
him, spread wide for him, eager for him.
More than eager.
Demanding.
No inhibitions, for he had teased them all
away.
No shame, because he wouldn’t allow
shame.
No second thoughts, because thinking was
something to save for another time, another place.
“Yes,” she breathed at last, as the tension
turned liquid. Turned blue and white behind her eyes. Flashed red,
and deep purple. The colors of passion, exploding all around her.
She was drowning in color, in sensation, in that tight coiling that
at the very last, frightened her.
His thumb on her, he slipped two fingers
inside her and drove them up, up.
“Yes!”
And it all came tumbling down, the mountain
of need, of want, that he’d built inside her. Tumbling, tumbling
down in a wild explosion of pulsing, rippling sensation.
She lowered her hips—her legs could no longer
hold her, because she had gone all soft and liquid. But the need
was still there, a different completion than he had given her, one
that included them both.
The want clogged in her throat, the need to give.
Dragging her fingers down his back, she urged
him with her body, pulled him toward her. Up and over her.
He sank between her legs, filling her even as
his mouth claimed hers again, his tongue mimicking the thrusts of
his lower body.
She broke free, gasping, biting on his ear.
“More, more,” she urged him, wanting nothing else in this life than
to give him
closer, attempted to press her lower body even closer against his.
Slipped one bare leg through his, raised it slightly, pressed
again. Gloried in his arousal.
Shame, shame on... Oh, the hell with it.
They tumbled onto the bed together, his hands
everywhere, hers mimicking his as she skimmed his body, learned his
body, rejoiced in his body that fit so well with hers.
“You taste so good,” he said, then sluiced
his tongue between her breasts, sucked lightly on the side of her
throat. “And you smell good, too.”
She said something that disproved four
straight years of A’s in vocabulary. “Uh-huh.” And then she ran her
hands down his back, glorying in the ripple of his muscles as he
shifted above her, brought his mouth to her breast again.
All things considered, with her body singing,
her heart hammering, her breath catching in her throat, “Uh-huh”
was pretty damn articulate.
He moved his hand lower, slid it over the
flare of her hip, then concentrated for a moment on her navel,
circling it with one finger even as he pressed his palm flat
against her lower belly.
The pressure he created deep inside her made
her swallow down hard on the low moan that threatened to escape
her.
She moved her hips, raised them slightly as
she braced her bent legs against the mattress, wordlessly pleading
for more, more.
And then he was there, between her legs. His
hand, his fingers, touching her, opening her, stroking her, giving
all the proof she’d ever need that the man didn’t brag. He was more
than good. He was very, very good. A master of his craft.
Her hips went on autopilot, moving on their
own, pressing up against him each time he seemed to threaten to
leave her, stop what he was doing.
Heat, deep inside her. Building, building.
She clamped her teeth together hard, all her concentration on his
hand, on what he was doing to her. On his mouth, how it suckled on
her, how his tongue flicked at her nipple, sending wave after wild
wave of tingling awareness from her breasts to her belly, tying her
up in a huge knot that just had to be untied so that she could
break free. Soar.
And here it was, coming toward her as she
stood poised on the edge, waiting. Closer it came, that exquisite
tightness, that glorious pressure that built and built and built.
The hunger that consumed her.
A hunger she’d never known existed, until
Tim. Never even imagined.
She beat on his back with her fists, unable
to speak, unable to breathe, her heels digging into the mattress as
she thrust her hips high, then held them there for him. Open to
him, spread wide for him, eager for him.
More than eager.
Demanding.
No inhibitions, for he had teased them all
away.
No shame, because he wouldn’t allow
shame.
No second thoughts, because thinking was
something to save for another time, another place.
“Yes,” she breathed at last, as the tension
turned liquid. Turned blue and white behind her eyes. Flashed red,
and deep purple. The colors of passion, exploding all around her.
She was drowning in color, in sensation, in that tight coiling that
at the very last, frightened her.
His thumb on her, he slipped two fingers
inside her and drove them up, up.
“Yes!”
And it all came tumbling down, the mountain
of need, of want, that he’d built inside her. Tumbling, tumbling
down in a wild explosion of pulsing, rippling sensation.
She lowered her hips—her legs could no longer
hold her, because she had gone all soft and liquid. But the need
was still there, a different completion than he had given her, one
that included them both.
The want clogged in her throat, the need to give.
Dragging her fingers down his back, she urged
him with her body, pulled him toward her. Up and over her.
He sank between her legs, filling her even as
his mouth claimed hers again, his tongue mimicking the thrusts of
his lower body.
She broke free, gasping, biting on his ear.
“More, more,” she urged him, wanting nothing else in this life than
to give him
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