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Authors: Hazel Hunter
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palmed it.
Isabelle moaned into his mouth as he lightly squeezed the tender mound. Smooth and lush in his hand, he felt the dimpled center of her nipple stiffen. Gently, he molded the ripe flesh in his hand as her arms tightened around his waist and his arousal was pinned between them. The feel of her skin pressing along the length of him was nearly shocking, the engorged tip already sensitive. The entire shaft swelled now and his hips pulsed with the need to thrust. He immediately took her other breast, equally warm and soft, and cupped it.
Her mouth seemed to pause in shock and, as his tongue speared into her, he kneaded and stroked each breast simultaneously. He plumped them, squeezed them and let his hands explore their round fullness. Suddenly, she pressed herself to him, the swelling flesh thrusting into his hands, her hips doing a sensual gyration against his. His arousal throbbed in aching response and in the next moment, his hands had pushed her panties down and he was lowering her to the bed.
• • • • •
Isabelle didn’t bother stepping out of her shoes as the panties finally pulled free of them. Mac’s mouth on hers was like a drug: hypnotic and consuming, soft and yet possessive, owning hers to the point that her lungs screamed for air.
But his hands were just the opposite. When he finally released her breasts to guide her hips to the bed, her nipples instantly ached for his touch. Suddenly, his mouth released hers and her lungs heaved like a bellows, pulling in one lungful of air after another. Slowly, he lowered himself over her, the hard slabs of chest muscle grazing maddeningly across the stiffened peaks of her breasts. As she lay back, though, his hand found her again. Even as his hair roughened thighs squeezed between hers, spreading them, his lips found the skin behind her ear and his fingers delicately plucked one nipple.
“Yes,” she gasped as her back arched wildly in response.
Her hips tilted hard against his, his engorged arousal pressing at her entrance, as her nipple tightened in response. His thumb rode across it, rubbing it, as he bit gently into her neck. Her hips lifted to him and her abdomen contracted as the tug on her sensitive nub made the other nipple harden in empathy. And as Mac’s arousal nudged against her sweet spot, warmth flooded between her legs.
Her hands flew to his chest, her palms over his nipples, squeezing the thick pecs. Mac hissed into her neck, driving her to squeeze harder, but the material of her gloves frustrated her. She was dying to know what those nipples felt like, how the hair on his chest would feel running under her fingers, but the gloves would not permit that. Instead, she quickly slid her hands down his incredibly taut waist, onto his hips, and tugged them to her.
But as she tilted her hips up to his and pulled, Isabelle realized that was the last thing she needed to do. Mac’s thrusting arousal sank into her immediately, the hot distended flesh spreading her as he drove up inside. She’d wanted it, needed it, urged him on and yet the sudden fullness and stretch made her cry out involuntarily.
Mac suddenly freed her breast and raised up on both elbows. She opened her eyes to see his face just in front of hers, looking down at her. His blue-green eyes were fevered, his breathing hard, and his lips parted as though in question. But there was no answer that she could give. Instead, she let her legs and knees lift higher, her high heels riding along the outside of his hips. He glanced back at them, his chiseled torso twisting, the muscles rippling under the taut skin as he reached backward. Slowly his hand caressed the top of her foot. He smoothed his warm palm under her calf, outside her knee, and then up her thigh. The large hand was tender as he rubbed back down her thigh and then her knee. But at his hip, he paused. Gently, his fingers wound around her hand and slowly but firmly he raised it above her head. His weight
Isabelle moaned into his mouth as he lightly squeezed the tender mound. Smooth and lush in his hand, he felt the dimpled center of her nipple stiffen. Gently, he molded the ripe flesh in his hand as her arms tightened around his waist and his arousal was pinned between them. The feel of her skin pressing along the length of him was nearly shocking, the engorged tip already sensitive. The entire shaft swelled now and his hips pulsed with the need to thrust. He immediately took her other breast, equally warm and soft, and cupped it.
Her mouth seemed to pause in shock and, as his tongue speared into her, he kneaded and stroked each breast simultaneously. He plumped them, squeezed them and let his hands explore their round fullness. Suddenly, she pressed herself to him, the swelling flesh thrusting into his hands, her hips doing a sensual gyration against his. His arousal throbbed in aching response and in the next moment, his hands had pushed her panties down and he was lowering her to the bed.
• • • • •
Isabelle didn’t bother stepping out of her shoes as the panties finally pulled free of them. Mac’s mouth on hers was like a drug: hypnotic and consuming, soft and yet possessive, owning hers to the point that her lungs screamed for air.
But his hands were just the opposite. When he finally released her breasts to guide her hips to the bed, her nipples instantly ached for his touch. Suddenly, his mouth released hers and her lungs heaved like a bellows, pulling in one lungful of air after another. Slowly, he lowered himself over her, the hard slabs of chest muscle grazing maddeningly across the stiffened peaks of her breasts. As she lay back, though, his hand found her again. Even as his hair roughened thighs squeezed between hers, spreading them, his lips found the skin behind her ear and his fingers delicately plucked one nipple.
“Yes,” she gasped as her back arched wildly in response.
Her hips tilted hard against his, his engorged arousal pressing at her entrance, as her nipple tightened in response. His thumb rode across it, rubbing it, as he bit gently into her neck. Her hips lifted to him and her abdomen contracted as the tug on her sensitive nub made the other nipple harden in empathy. And as Mac’s arousal nudged against her sweet spot, warmth flooded between her legs.
Her hands flew to his chest, her palms over his nipples, squeezing the thick pecs. Mac hissed into her neck, driving her to squeeze harder, but the material of her gloves frustrated her. She was dying to know what those nipples felt like, how the hair on his chest would feel running under her fingers, but the gloves would not permit that. Instead, she quickly slid her hands down his incredibly taut waist, onto his hips, and tugged them to her.
But as she tilted her hips up to his and pulled, Isabelle realized that was the last thing she needed to do. Mac’s thrusting arousal sank into her immediately, the hot distended flesh spreading her as he drove up inside. She’d wanted it, needed it, urged him on and yet the sudden fullness and stretch made her cry out involuntarily.
Mac suddenly freed her breast and raised up on both elbows. She opened her eyes to see his face just in front of hers, looking down at her. His blue-green eyes were fevered, his breathing hard, and his lips parted as though in question. But there was no answer that she could give. Instead, she let her legs and knees lift higher, her high heels riding along the outside of his hips. He glanced back at them, his chiseled torso twisting, the muscles rippling under the taut skin as he reached backward. Slowly his hand caressed the top of her foot. He smoothed his warm palm under her calf, outside her knee, and then up her thigh. The large hand was tender as he rubbed back down her thigh and then her knee. But at his hip, he paused. Gently, his fingers wound around her hand and slowly but firmly he raised it above her head. His weight
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