Beth Kery - Since I Saw You

“I’ve been wanting to do that since I first laid eyes on you,” he said roughly next to her lips a moment later. “Your mouth is downright indecent.” He pulled her closer to him so that he could close the door. He shut and locked it, his piercing stare never leaving her face. Her sex clenched tight at the sensation of his large, lean, solid body pressed against her own.

“Use that mouth right now,” he demanded hoarsely. “Use it to tell me you want me.”

“You really need me to tell you that?” she asked, touching his face experimentally. She liked the sensation of his whiskers abrading her fingertips so well, she opened her other hand along his jaw.

“I think it’d help to make this whole night seem a little more believable,” he muttered, leaning down and nipping at her lips with his. She joined him in a barely restrained, blistering kiss.

“Go on,” he said in a gravelly voice after a mind-hazing moment.

“I want you. I must , to be doing something so crazy,” she whispered, meeting his stare and arching her back, rubbing her breasts against his ribs. He growled appreciatively and ducked his head, greedily taking her lower lip between his scraping teeth. A hand came up and cupped her left breast, squeezing it firmly, molding her flesh to his, testing her texture. She moaned as liquid heat rushed through her, the sharpness of her arousal a fresh cause for amazement. His groan sounded every bit as appreciative.

She’d never had a man sweep her into his arms before. Somehow, it didn’t surprise her in the least that Kam did it without blinking an eye.

He was unknowingly stroking a narrow, sweet spot in her being without even trying. She wanted him just a little less than her next breath. She craved him just enough to relinquish her typical rigid control. That kind of desire left room for little else, let alone rational thought.

He held her stare as he carried her down the dim hallway.

“There,” she said breathlessly, waving at the master bedroom suite.

He kicked lightly at the partially open door to widen it. She looked up at him as he set her at the foot of the bed, a thrilling combination of lust, wariness, anxiety, and electrical excitement beginning to simmer in her blood.

He couldn’t take his eyes off her face. Later, he’d realize that if asked what her condominium looked like an hour after being there, he wouldn’t be able to supply even a sketchy description. That’s how rapt he was with Lin Soong. That lush, rosebud mouth was his to touch, lick . . . ravage, the smooth skin his to caress and kiss, the sweet, thrusting breasts his to drown in, to coax to a full response with his mouth, lips, and tongue . . .

. . . for a little while, anyway.

Without a word, he began to undress her, sweeping her coat off and tossing it carelessly on a chair, raising the thin sweater over her shoulders and head and discarding it on the mattress. His actions mussed her hair even further. He delved his fingers into the gathered mass at the back of her head, finding three long, smooth wooden hair sticks and removing them. He tossed them. The pins flew several feet where they landed with clicks on a bedside table, rolled and came to a rest. He never took his eyes off her. A midnight mass of hair whispered around her white shoulders. He clutched at it with both hands, burying his fingers in the curls. Gently, he arranged it around her back and upper arms.

“I’ve never seen an Asian woman with curly hair. It’s beautiful,” he muttered, distracted by the sensation of it coiling around his fingers. Her hair was a lighter weight than he would have thought considering the mass at the back of her head, but there was tons of it. The fragrance of the liberated tendrils reached his nose—fruit and flowers, musky and sensual. It whisked next to his calloused fingers, feeling like silk and air combined.

“It’s not that common. The humidity makes it worse,” she said huskily, staring up at him with a solemn, dark-eyed gaze.

His jaw tightened as he reached to unfasten her bra, the anticipation cutting at him. He could tell by her shape in the clinging bra she was going to be lovely. After he’d removed the bra, he just stared for a moment, lust and something sharp and unexpected tightening his throat and cock. When air finally escaped his lungs, it did so on a rough, uncontrollable groan.

“Lin,” he said as he opened his hands along her rib cage, feeling the delicate lines of her carriage, her rapidly beating heart, her softness, her heat. He went lower, encircling her waist. He’d been right. He could nearly encompass her in his grasp. He scooted her farther up the bedcover and came down over her. Their mouths fused, hot and voracious from the first. He’d realized earlier that although her figure was slender and her features small, she was tall for a woman. Their fit was ideal. He rested one hip on the bed, but she curved against him like a heat-seeking kitten, cupping his aching cock between her thighs. The evidence of her returned ardor inflamed him further.

He rolled on top of her, pressing her down into the mattress and ravening her mouth, suddenly too hungry to be polite.

“Ah God,” she whispered when he raised his head a moment later and flexed, his straining cock pressing against the juncture of her thighs. She gyrated her hips, and he saw red. His lips found her cheek and her ear. He kissed the opening and she squirmed beneath him, gasping. He bit gently at the shell and brought her earlobe into his mouth, laving both skin and the smooth pearl inserted in the flesh, licking at the succulent contrast of smooth hardness and tender softness. The feeling of her sleek body writhing beneath him almost made him go berserk. Only his single-minded desire to taste more of her stopped him from driving into her then and there, from discovering firsthand if she was as soft and warm on the inside as she was on the surface.

Her neck was fragrant, her trapped cries delicious against his lips and gently scraping teeth. She craned her head up, trying to find his mouth again. Her hands moved frantically over his back, scooping his light jacket and the material of his shirt with them. He lifted his head and hissed when her fingernails scraped against bare skin and a shiver of sharp sensation rippled through him.

Their stares met briefly as he shifted on top of her, gathering her hands. He held her wrists and pressed them to the pillow above her head. He waited two heartbeats . . . three, but she didn’t protest at his restraint.

Instead, she arched her back in an offering.

Lust tore at him, undeniable. Feral. She’d exceeded his expectations. Her breasts were mouthwateringly beautiful. They had the thrusting firmness of small breasts, but they weren’t small. They were fleshy and ripe, and the way they stood out from her narrow, delicate rib cage drove him mad. He transferred her wrists to one hand and used the other to shape a breast, plumping the tender, extremely firm flesh.

“C’est si bon,” he muttered before he went lower. Her skin was so flawless, so transparent, that he could see the delicate blue veins beneath it. He slipped a crown between his lips and laved the pebbled flesh against his tongue, drinking in her moans of pleasure, becoming drunk by her softness and scent, by her responsiveness. When he drew on her more forcefully, she bucked her hips and moaned her approval. Her pussy rubbed against his heavy erection, beckoning him . . . taunting.

He snarled in barely leashed restraint and secured his hold on her wrists. He transferred to her other sweet breast, keeping her immobile for his ravening mouth by cupping her rib cage with one hand and pressing her wrists down into the pillow. After he’d sucked and laved at her nipple until it grew tight and distended and her desperate cries told him how sensitive the flesh had become, he transferred his mouth to the sides of her heaving ribs.