Read Online She Woke Up Married by Suzanne Macpherson - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Suzanne Macpherson
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fingertips and his throbbing, hot erection. She cried out and begged him. He reached up with his mouth and drew her breast into the heat of his mouth again. As she screamed with pleasure, he moved her gently into place and finallyslid himself into her. She stroked her hands across his powerful chest, and he pulled her down into a kiss that made her shiver as he again consumed her with his desire.
Paris thought she would faint. She had never, ever felt anything like Turner. The care and emotion behind his touches, his movements—the slow, pressing, burning movements that brought her to the edge again, so easily, so lovingly. This must be what being made love to was really like. She lost her senses and slipped into the throbbing motion of her own body, screaming in pleasure.
Turner moved Paris under him with one quick motion and let her wrap herself around him. He moved her up against the headboard of her bed so he could touch her better and put his mouth on hers and feel her wanting him. She had reached out to him—not so much for lust but for comforting. He felt that from her with all his senses. It gave him a rare and precious door into her deeper side.
Turner knew she was a sensual, sexual woman, because every part of her showed that right out loud. The way she dressed, her wild red hair, her beautiful lips, her flashing green eyes. But the touches she craved right now were more than that. He could tell by the way she responded to being held and stroked. She was an amazing lover, but Paris ate up love with huge bites—like a starving wild animal.
She also gave back. She was so tender inside her passion that his heart ached as he made love to her. Here was a woman, complex and difficult, but hidden deep inside her was another side—a woman with a huge capacity for love. She’d probably been storing that up her whole life, with no one to give it to, no one to take it.
Turner was so moved that he made love to her with the utmost tenderness and caring possible. Each time he touched her he wanted her to feel what he felt—that he knew her secret. Her eyes told her secret, and he let his body respond to her with his heart and soul.
The heat inside her gathered and exploded around him like a thousand-degree tornado. It made him lose his mind completely. He held her so close that he could feel her heart beating as his own orgasm tore him apart with pleasure. Her fingers dug into his shoulders, and she cried out his name…his name—he heard it like a sob. She didn’t claw him but held so tight they were one moment as one, not two.
When the time drifted down quietly to where he felt the room around him again, felt the soft light, and the sheets, and her head resting on his shoulder, he pulled her into a soft embrace. He kissed her forehead and across her temple, holding her until finally she drifted back into a gentler sleep.
What dreams were those that had made Pariscry out so badly earlier? Dreams so bad that she would surrender enough to let him make love to her like this? Turner felt her rapid heartbeat subside to a calmer level under his hand, which she now held clutched to her chest. He rested his cheek against her hair. Her scent was a tangle of her special Paris perfume, her shampoo, their lovemaking, and…Twinkies.
She was such a vibrant, sensual woman. He wanted to make love to her all over again. Having her tonight had left him hungry for more. But not just hungry for more lovemaking. He’d touched a side of her he’d suspected was there, buried under the pain of her early memories.
Would she ever come to him again? Or would she lock the door behind her after this time?
He listened to the night sounds of the city around them as he lay beside her. Through the large window the light was beginning to change from ink blue to yellow streaks.
He missed the beauty of the islands of his childhood at times like this. Many mornings he’d wake so early that he’d race the dawn across the beaches, running on
Paris thought she would faint. She had never, ever felt anything like Turner. The care and emotion behind his touches, his movements—the slow, pressing, burning movements that brought her to the edge again, so easily, so lovingly. This must be what being made love to was really like. She lost her senses and slipped into the throbbing motion of her own body, screaming in pleasure.
Turner moved Paris under him with one quick motion and let her wrap herself around him. He moved her up against the headboard of her bed so he could touch her better and put his mouth on hers and feel her wanting him. She had reached out to him—not so much for lust but for comforting. He felt that from her with all his senses. It gave him a rare and precious door into her deeper side.
Turner knew she was a sensual, sexual woman, because every part of her showed that right out loud. The way she dressed, her wild red hair, her beautiful lips, her flashing green eyes. But the touches she craved right now were more than that. He could tell by the way she responded to being held and stroked. She was an amazing lover, but Paris ate up love with huge bites—like a starving wild animal.
She also gave back. She was so tender inside her passion that his heart ached as he made love to her. Here was a woman, complex and difficult, but hidden deep inside her was another side—a woman with a huge capacity for love. She’d probably been storing that up her whole life, with no one to give it to, no one to take it.
Turner was so moved that he made love to her with the utmost tenderness and caring possible. Each time he touched her he wanted her to feel what he felt—that he knew her secret. Her eyes told her secret, and he let his body respond to her with his heart and soul.
The heat inside her gathered and exploded around him like a thousand-degree tornado. It made him lose his mind completely. He held her so close that he could feel her heart beating as his own orgasm tore him apart with pleasure. Her fingers dug into his shoulders, and she cried out his name…his name—he heard it like a sob. She didn’t claw him but held so tight they were one moment as one, not two.
When the time drifted down quietly to where he felt the room around him again, felt the soft light, and the sheets, and her head resting on his shoulder, he pulled her into a soft embrace. He kissed her forehead and across her temple, holding her until finally she drifted back into a gentler sleep.
What dreams were those that had made Pariscry out so badly earlier? Dreams so bad that she would surrender enough to let him make love to her like this? Turner felt her rapid heartbeat subside to a calmer level under his hand, which she now held clutched to her chest. He rested his cheek against her hair. Her scent was a tangle of her special Paris perfume, her shampoo, their lovemaking, and…Twinkies.
She was such a vibrant, sensual woman. He wanted to make love to her all over again. Having her tonight had left him hungry for more. But not just hungry for more lovemaking. He’d touched a side of her he’d suspected was there, buried under the pain of her early memories.
Would she ever come to him again? Or would she lock the door behind her after this time?
He listened to the night sounds of the city around them as he lay beside her. Through the large window the light was beginning to change from ink blue to yellow streaks.
He missed the beauty of the islands of his childhood at times like this. Many mornings he’d wake so early that he’d race the dawn across the beaches, running on
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