of chocolate syrup and a spoon.
“Ohmigod. Are you—?”
He nodded. “When I tell you I’m going to eat you, I really mean it, chere. ”
He dribbled the thick sauce down the valley between her breasts before returning to paint her nipples with the sweet confection. She felt his tongue again, wet and hot against her skin. She clenched her fists to control herself as he slowly cleaned every bit of the syrup from her breasts then sucked the nipples one last time.
She wanted to tell him how badly she needed him inside her, but again he seemed determined to torture her, to go at his own pace. The line of syrup he dripped down to her navel and farther to the top of her mound was a thick, heated liquid caress. The walls of her pussy vibrated with need, convulsing with tremors as Marc again made a slow, methodical journey following the line of the syrup. She had the sensation of being cocooned in a cloud of heat, with tiny little vibrators attached to every sensitive point on her skin. Marc’s tongue was an instrument of the devil, erotically talented as he licked up every bit of the dark confection.
At the exact moment she was sure she would implode from the sensations battering her, he lifted her legs to rest on his shoulders and thrust two fingers inside her. That was all it took. As soon as he slid inside her, she detonated, the walls of her pussy clamping down and rippling again and again. The air was redolent with the scents of strawberries and chocolate and pure unadulterated sex.
Marc rode her through the climax, dragging his fingers across her sweet spot and murmuring softly to her in Cajun French. She was so hot, so wet, so sweet. The way her body responded to him created a savage need inside him that he hadn’t even known he had. He loved the way her cunt clamped around his fingers, and he couldn’t wait to feel it around his cock again. And her skin. Dieu! It turned such a sweet shade of pink when she was aroused, accented by the deep rose of her nipples and the glint of light on the two rows of neatly trimmed hair that accented her mound. He could bury himself inside her and stay there forever.
What the hell was this all about, anyway? Had she bewitched him? Marc Doucet was known as a passionate man who was always in control. With Daisy Karr, those threads frayed and snapped, and everything else disappeared. It had been totally out of character for him to suggest they continue to see each other in New York. He’d sworn for years he didn’t want the complication of a relationship in his life, but it seemed when one showed up—a real one—he didn’t have much choice. He’d just need to get this damn assignment over with and convince her they could move forward.
At last the tremors subsided, and Daisy lay panting, eyes closed, trying to regain some semblance of balance. Marc slid his fingers from her wet grasp, pausing to lick her delicious essence from them. Dieu! It is better than any fine liquor I’ve ever had. He watched as Daisy opened her eyes, her gaze slumberous, a satisfied look on her face. He moved over her, looking directly into her eyes, smiling at what he saw there.
“That feel good, darlin’?”
She choked out a little laugh. “Good doesn’t even describe it.” She reached up a hand and stroked his cheek. “But I want my turn at bat, too.”
He laughed, a low, rough sound. “I thought you just had it.”
“I mean a different kind of turn.” She patted the bed. “Get up here beside me.”
Marc wasn’t sure he could take much of her “turn.” He was already pushing the boundaries of his fraying control and his need to feel his cock inside her erotic wet heat. But he rolled over, legs dangling at the edge of the bed, and watched through heavy-lidded eyes as she pulled herself to her knees. The feel of her slim fingers around his dick make him suck in an involuntary breath. Jesus! She was going to kill him.
“Better be careful there,” he warned. “Eating you with
“Ohmigod. Are you—?”
He nodded. “When I tell you I’m going to eat you, I really mean it, chere. ”
He dribbled the thick sauce down the valley between her breasts before returning to paint her nipples with the sweet confection. She felt his tongue again, wet and hot against her skin. She clenched her fists to control herself as he slowly cleaned every bit of the syrup from her breasts then sucked the nipples one last time.
She wanted to tell him how badly she needed him inside her, but again he seemed determined to torture her, to go at his own pace. The line of syrup he dripped down to her navel and farther to the top of her mound was a thick, heated liquid caress. The walls of her pussy vibrated with need, convulsing with tremors as Marc again made a slow, methodical journey following the line of the syrup. She had the sensation of being cocooned in a cloud of heat, with tiny little vibrators attached to every sensitive point on her skin. Marc’s tongue was an instrument of the devil, erotically talented as he licked up every bit of the dark confection.
At the exact moment she was sure she would implode from the sensations battering her, he lifted her legs to rest on his shoulders and thrust two fingers inside her. That was all it took. As soon as he slid inside her, she detonated, the walls of her pussy clamping down and rippling again and again. The air was redolent with the scents of strawberries and chocolate and pure unadulterated sex.
Marc rode her through the climax, dragging his fingers across her sweet spot and murmuring softly to her in Cajun French. She was so hot, so wet, so sweet. The way her body responded to him created a savage need inside him that he hadn’t even known he had. He loved the way her cunt clamped around his fingers, and he couldn’t wait to feel it around his cock again. And her skin. Dieu! It turned such a sweet shade of pink when she was aroused, accented by the deep rose of her nipples and the glint of light on the two rows of neatly trimmed hair that accented her mound. He could bury himself inside her and stay there forever.
What the hell was this all about, anyway? Had she bewitched him? Marc Doucet was known as a passionate man who was always in control. With Daisy Karr, those threads frayed and snapped, and everything else disappeared. It had been totally out of character for him to suggest they continue to see each other in New York. He’d sworn for years he didn’t want the complication of a relationship in his life, but it seemed when one showed up—a real one—he didn’t have much choice. He’d just need to get this damn assignment over with and convince her they could move forward.
At last the tremors subsided, and Daisy lay panting, eyes closed, trying to regain some semblance of balance. Marc slid his fingers from her wet grasp, pausing to lick her delicious essence from them. Dieu! It is better than any fine liquor I’ve ever had. He watched as Daisy opened her eyes, her gaze slumberous, a satisfied look on her face. He moved over her, looking directly into her eyes, smiling at what he saw there.
“That feel good, darlin’?”
She choked out a little laugh. “Good doesn’t even describe it.” She reached up a hand and stroked his cheek. “But I want my turn at bat, too.”
He laughed, a low, rough sound. “I thought you just had it.”
“I mean a different kind of turn.” She patted the bed. “Get up here beside me.”
Marc wasn’t sure he could take much of her “turn.” He was already pushing the boundaries of his fraying control and his need to feel his cock inside her erotic wet heat. But he rolled over, legs dangling at the edge of the bed, and watched through heavy-lidded eyes as she pulled herself to her knees. The feel of her slim fingers around his dick make him suck in an involuntary breath. Jesus! She was going to kill him.
“Better be careful there,” he warned. “Eating you with
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