Read Online Two Weeks in Geneva: Book Two by Lydia Rowan - Free Book Online

room glinting off the moisture that clung beaded at his slit. How many times in these past months had she imagined this, longed for him, and now he was here, as if ripped from a dream.
    The fabric of the couch felt rough against her sensitive skin, and as Alexander put one hand on each of her inner thighs, urging her legs farther apart, the brush of the cooler air of the room against her heated clit had her squirming and moisture seeping from her. Alexander leaned forward and feathered a kiss at the juncture of her thigh, before licking that same crease. She cried out, the barrage of sensation making her reel while leaving her desperate for more, desperate for him to move his tongue just an inch or two, right to that spot…
    “I missed this, Quinn,” he said, his voice thick with arousal, his puffs of breath making her squirm harder as they hit her clit. “I dreamed of you, your scent”—he rasped his tongue over her clit, eliciting a strangled cry that ended in a whimper—“your taste. And now I have it, have you, again…”
    He trailed off as he dove his tongue between her lips, slicking up one side and then the other, his breath still tickling her clit, which stood prominent and practically begging for his attention. Which he denied, instead circling her opening with his tongue and then retreating to swipe her sex again and again. Even without the touch to her clit that she craved, she was on the edge, the tension of his presence, the longing she’d felt in his absence, all combining into an explosive bundle of energy that had her muscles locked tight, limbs thrumming with the need for release.
    And then he touched her, circled her clit with his tongue before swiping over the bundle of nerves and pressing down, the pressure shooting through her womb and into her gut, triggering her release. The orgasm hit hard and fast; there were no gentle waves, no stars behind her eyes. This pleasure was rough, jerky, made her fear that she’d come out of her skin with the intensity of it. She couldn’t scream, couldn’t moan; she could only lie there as the pleasure racked her body, spiking so high that it was threaded through with hints of pain. Through it all, he was there, holding her, arm latched across her waist, licking at the juices that flowed freely from her now.
    As the intensity ebbed, leaving her sapped in its wake, she noticed that he was kissing his way up her stomach, grazing her nipples with his teeth before he stopped at her lips. Before she could speak, her captured her mouth in a kiss, and her flavor exploded across her tongue as he stroked it in and out of her mouth, the motion making her ache with the need to feel his cock inside her. On instinct, she widened her legs and then felt his cock press against her opening, the first time he’d touched her skin against skin in such an intimate way. She reveled in the contact, at the thought of him plunging inside her, filling her.
    And then she froze, the realization hitting her like a lightning strike. He stilled and pulled back, breaking the kiss.
    “Look at me, Quinn,” he commanded.
    She opened her eyes and was immediately caught in his gaze.
    “Trust me,” he said, his voice low, yet fervent, the deeper meaning underscoring his words.
    She hesitated a single moment and then nodded.
    His smile, as bright as it was brief, broke and was replaced with his heated gaze in the blink of an eye.
    And then he thrust.
    But, rather than the expected—and desired—invasion, the head of his cock brushed against her clit, and his shaft nestled between her labia. With each move, she felt her juices coat his shaft, the smooth glide of his skin against hers, the slap of his sac hitting against her ass as he moved floating up to her ears and blending with their increasingly pitched moans to create a symphony of passion. He continued to thrust, his cock now fully coated with a mixture of her cream and his precum, and with each movement, the head of his cocked bumped