Read Online The Art of Stealing Kisses (Stealing Hearts Book 2) by Stella London - Free Book Online Page A

“Do
you want to come back to my apartment?”
I whisper.
    “I’m
not sure I can wait that long.” He
kisses my ear lobe, plants lingering kisses on my neck, his lips warm
against my wet skin. “My
place is closer.” He
rubs his thumbs across my neckline, sending a shiver of longing that
spreads out and pools between my thighs.
    I
try to keep it together. “Sounds
good.”
    “Let’s
hail a cab.”
    We
make out the whole way to St. Clair’s
apartment, steaming up the back windows of the cab like a couple of
teenagers. When the cab pulls up to the entrance, St. Clair throws a
couple of twenty pound notes down. “Keep
the change.”
    He
hustles me inside, kissing me up against the wall before the door has
even closed behind us.
    “You’re
all wet,” he
murmurs, caressing my breasts through my wet clingy dress and the
lace of my bra.
    I
shiver against him, running my hands across his torso. I peel away
his shirt, stripping him down to his bare skin as I kiss along his
chest. I’m
so caught up in the moment, I’m
hardly able to stay on my feet. I should take a moment to calm down,
to think this through, but I don’t
want to.
    I
want to lose myself in him and never come up for air.
    St.
Clair takes my chin and tilts my face up toward his to claim my mouth
again, kissing me passionately. He reaches around to unzip my dress
and it slides to the floor. I let out a small moan, remembering the
last time he undressed me, the way his hot tongue traced the curves
of my body. I shudder in anticipation. He unclasps my bra and dips
his head to kiss my breasts. I moan again at the sensation, arching
against him, desperate for more. He teases my nipples, licking at
them until they’re
stiff with need, then taking each into his mouth in turn. He sucks
hard, and I cry out with pleasure, clinging to his broad shoulders to
keep from swooning to the floor. But I needn’t
worry – he
lifts me up then, sweeping me into his strong arms and carrying me
through the dark apartment to his bedroom.
    St.
Clair sets me gently on the bed. I gaze up at him as he slowly peels
off my panties, and suddenly I’m
laying naked and spread before him. His eyes devour every inch of me
in the dark.
    “God,
you’re
beautiful,” he
whispers, slowly undoing his belt and stripping off his pants. “I
could look at you forever.”
    My
heart sings, but as much as his words are a gift, I need more from
him; not just more: everything. When he’s
naked, I pull him down to me, covering my body with his. The feel of
him, skin to skin, is incredible. I can hardly believe it. And then I
feel the hot length of him, hard and rigid against me.
    Yes .
    I
lay back, spreading my thighs wider in welcome. “I
want you so much,” I
whisper, and St. Clair groans in answer. He reaches across to the
nightstand, and a moment later, settles between my hips. I feel his
fingers caress lightly between us, stroking my clit with perfect
pressure until I can’t
take the heat anymore. “ All of you.” I
reach for him, so big and hard, and guide him toward me, ready and
waiting. “God,
Charles…”
    He
enters me slowly, like he’s
savoring every inch of sensation. I press my head up against his
shoulders, it’s
such a rush. God, he feels so good.
    “Grace,”
his voice is
strained, and his usually calm expression is replaced with pure need.
He rocks deeper, thrusting harder, filling me completely. I gasp and
dig my teeth into his shoulder, my nails into his back. I wrap my
legs around his torso as he plunges in and out, deeper and faster,
and I feel a swell of sweet fire building, the throbbing pressure
rising like a tide. He squeezes my ass, holding me in place, and
bites at my neck, groaning low in his throat. This is everything I
need.
    My
hips rise to meet his and I throw my head back, reveling in the
sensation as his thrusts become quicker, harder, deeper, getting lost
in the hot build of our rhythm until the orgasm rips through me like
a tsunami, a beautiful wave of