something else entirely, cradled in his hands. They ached, itched, tingled—they seemed to have a life of their own, demanding that she turn and rub them against his skin.
Unable to stop, she arched her back, shoving her flesh against his roughly callused palms. “Ahhh,” the groan of pleasure escaped her lips before she could suppress it.
Heat flared in her belly. He cupped her flesh in his large hands and whispered in her ear, “Pretty.” He lifted each one and squeezed the plump mounds intimately. “I want to taste these."
Taste—God yes, I want him to taste them. Struggling to control her responses didn't help, because he was everywhere. She backed away from the merciless hands cupping her breasts, but her thighs and rump bumped and ground against his male length. The tactile assault confused her.
He nibbled and bit at her ear, her neck, her shoulder, under her jaw. All the time he murmured, sometimes in words she understood, sometimes in a language foreign to her. She had no time to protest or refuse, swept along on the tide of his passion.
And the feelings that he stirred in her had never been roused before. She didn't know the correct behavior. Her woman's book of etiquette and decorous behavior had never discussed this . Cooking plentiful meals, sewing ruffled curtains, pouring afternoon tea ... but not the feel of a man's hands on breasts, as his mouth sucked hard on the crease between neck and shoulder.
She was certain that no mention had ever been made of the frustrated feelings, almost anger, that swamped her and made her fierce. She wrenched free and turned violently on his lap, “You will listen to me now,” she exhorted him fiercely, straddling him, her knees bent on either side of his narrow hips, her breasts heaving her protests and outrage. But words would not come.
"Thank you,” he closed his lips around the pointing nub of her nipple, milking it erotically, teeth scoring the swollen button before sucking it into his mouth, cheeks concave from the pull.
"Oh, my God, now what are you doing to me?” Her words spilled out as a moan instead of a protest. He didn't stop what he was doing, and instead, put his hand back on her other breast, teasing that nipple in time to the pull of his lips. Naomi clutched his shoulders, holding onto him, back arched into the pleasure he gave.
The solid erection she'd touched before was stiffly reaching for her and determinedly nudging against her cleft. He dropped his hand to her hip, and she knew it hadn't been accidental.
Charlie Wolf held her, but this time his shaft prodded her until her nether lips parted and he rubbed against her tender folds. Startled out of her sexual haze, she froze.
"Let's see what happens when we do this,” he murmured. Her eyes followed the trail of his hand as he slid it down her ribs until it rested on her stomach.
With his other hand, he rubbed his shaft against the slick flesh inside her folds, sliding it against the sensitive nub at her apex. She jerked, feeling as though a flash of fire had jolted through her. He seemed pleased at her uncontrolled response and grinned, “Like that, do you?"
She was fascinated by the smile on his face. He looked nothing like the stern bounty hunter who had ridden into town leading a string of dead men. He continued brushing back and forth across the spot that tingled, until she pushed back, needing more.
"That's it,” he directed her. “Give yourself to me. Let me in."
Let him in? This is going to be a “he's too big, won't fit, this is going to be a disaster” in. Naomi stared into his eyes. Deliberately, holding her gaze, he pressed his hand on her stomach, moving the other to her hip.
"Nowww,” he growled at her, pressing downward at the same time he thrust his hips upward. She felt the tip of his engorged flesh breach the opening to her body and in took on a whole new meaning.
He used his chin to scrape aside the wet hair from her shoulder. She was embarrassed at the way
Unable to stop, she arched her back, shoving her flesh against his roughly callused palms. “Ahhh,” the groan of pleasure escaped her lips before she could suppress it.
Heat flared in her belly. He cupped her flesh in his large hands and whispered in her ear, “Pretty.” He lifted each one and squeezed the plump mounds intimately. “I want to taste these."
Taste—God yes, I want him to taste them. Struggling to control her responses didn't help, because he was everywhere. She backed away from the merciless hands cupping her breasts, but her thighs and rump bumped and ground against his male length. The tactile assault confused her.
He nibbled and bit at her ear, her neck, her shoulder, under her jaw. All the time he murmured, sometimes in words she understood, sometimes in a language foreign to her. She had no time to protest or refuse, swept along on the tide of his passion.
And the feelings that he stirred in her had never been roused before. She didn't know the correct behavior. Her woman's book of etiquette and decorous behavior had never discussed this . Cooking plentiful meals, sewing ruffled curtains, pouring afternoon tea ... but not the feel of a man's hands on breasts, as his mouth sucked hard on the crease between neck and shoulder.
She was certain that no mention had ever been made of the frustrated feelings, almost anger, that swamped her and made her fierce. She wrenched free and turned violently on his lap, “You will listen to me now,” she exhorted him fiercely, straddling him, her knees bent on either side of his narrow hips, her breasts heaving her protests and outrage. But words would not come.
"Thank you,” he closed his lips around the pointing nub of her nipple, milking it erotically, teeth scoring the swollen button before sucking it into his mouth, cheeks concave from the pull.
"Oh, my God, now what are you doing to me?” Her words spilled out as a moan instead of a protest. He didn't stop what he was doing, and instead, put his hand back on her other breast, teasing that nipple in time to the pull of his lips. Naomi clutched his shoulders, holding onto him, back arched into the pleasure he gave.
The solid erection she'd touched before was stiffly reaching for her and determinedly nudging against her cleft. He dropped his hand to her hip, and she knew it hadn't been accidental.
Charlie Wolf held her, but this time his shaft prodded her until her nether lips parted and he rubbed against her tender folds. Startled out of her sexual haze, she froze.
"Let's see what happens when we do this,” he murmured. Her eyes followed the trail of his hand as he slid it down her ribs until it rested on her stomach.
With his other hand, he rubbed his shaft against the slick flesh inside her folds, sliding it against the sensitive nub at her apex. She jerked, feeling as though a flash of fire had jolted through her. He seemed pleased at her uncontrolled response and grinned, “Like that, do you?"
She was fascinated by the smile on his face. He looked nothing like the stern bounty hunter who had ridden into town leading a string of dead men. He continued brushing back and forth across the spot that tingled, until she pushed back, needing more.
"That's it,” he directed her. “Give yourself to me. Let me in."
Let him in? This is going to be a “he's too big, won't fit, this is going to be a disaster” in. Naomi stared into his eyes. Deliberately, holding her gaze, he pressed his hand on her stomach, moving the other to her hip.
"Nowww,” he growled at her, pressing downward at the same time he thrust his hips upward. She felt the tip of his engorged flesh breach the opening to her body and in took on a whole new meaning.
He used his chin to scrape aside the wet hair from her shoulder. She was embarrassed at the way
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