Edge Of Darkness

58

She was spinning. She was falling. It felt like gravity had ceased to exist and she was flying through space at a thousand miles an hour, with no oxygen, and nothing to grab onto but him.

He broke the kiss and lowered his mouth to her throat. She groaned as she felt the warm wetness of his mouth against her skin, his teeth pressing down just hard enough to sting. He sucked hard enough she was sure it would leave a mark, but it didn’t matter because she didn’t care about anything other than the feeling of his body against hers. She encircled his shoulders with her arms, threaded her fingers into his hair—thick and even softer than it looked—and arched against him, his name a whispered entreaty on her lips.

His hand slid up under her pajama top. His fingers brushed the underside of her breast, and Ember couldn’t help it. She ground her pelvis against his and moaned, “Yes, please.”

He cupped her breast in his hand, pinched her hard n****e, and chuckled when she jerked and whispered it again.

“My little firecracker has a short fuse, hmmm?” He stroked her n****e, his laughter dying when she dug her fingers into his scalp and pushed up into his hand, whimpering.

He whispered, “You’re so responsive, Ember. God, that’s hot.”

Then he pushed her top up and lowered his mouth to her n****e, and she gasped as he drew hard against it with a hint of teeth. The stinging pain relieved almost instantly when he gentled and stroked his tongue back and forth, around and around, hot and wet and wonderful—then pain again with another fierce tug, his other hand pinching her other n****e.

She writhed against him, teetering on a knife-edge precipice of surrender.

Beyond the door came a shouted, “Nine minutes!”

They broke apart, panting, and stared into one another’s eyes. Through gritted teeth, Christian muttered, “I am going to kill him.”

“No…it’s…he’s…” Ember couldn’t get her mouth to cooperate with her brain. Realizing she was about to do something her body very much wanted to do but her brain was not entirely on board with, she took a deep breath, put her hands against the hard muscles of Christian’s chest, and gave a little push.

He looked at her with a look that said, Please tell me you’re not telling me what I think you’re telling me.

She only nodded and gave him another little push.

His eyes closed briefly. He drew in an unsteady breath, then opened his eyes and said, “Okay. But I’ve still got one minute. And there’s something I’ve been wanting to do.”

Unable to answer, Ember just blinked at him.

Keeping his gaze on hers, he rolled off her so his weight was balanced on one elbow, then he slowly ran his hand down her ribcage, over her belly, and beneath the elastic waistband of her cotton pajamas. When his fingers slipped beneath the edge of her panties she gasped, but he softly ordered, “Stay still. And keep quiet.”

With her heart hammering against her breastbone, she pressed her lips together and nodded.

When his fingers stroked over that little swollen nub between her legs, she was glad he’d told her to be quiet, because the groan that rose in her throat would have been loud enough to wake the neighbors and send Asher crashing back into the room. She jerked against his hand.

“Shh,” he whispered, when her breath caught in her throat and a little noise escaped her as his fingers slid farther down, then slowly penetrated her. Her eyes slid shut, her back arched, and she had to bite her lip to keep quiet.

“You’re soaking wet, baby,” he whispered into her ear, his breath hot and his breathing irregular, two fingers sunk deep inside her and his thumb making slow circles over her c**t. “You’re so wet for me.”

She whispered his name, rocking against his hand, pleasure gathering to an exquisite bright peak inside her body. She never knew it could be anything like this, so fast, hard, and total, the sensation overwhelming. Every nerve and cell strained, focused on such a small, wonderful area. Her face and chest were flushed with heat, her breath was uneven, her fingers twisted into his hair, and all she could think was more, more, please, yes, more.

“I want to watch you come,” he whispered, his voice a rough heat at her ear, a blues singer’s mix of silk and sandpaper. His tongue flicked out and stroked her earlobe and she shuddered, arching higher into him, her breasts crushed against his chest. He lowered his head, suckled her n****e into his mouth, and she gasped as his fingers probed deeper.

He kept stroking and suckling, his body hot and hard against hers, his breath just as ragged as her own, his fingers and tongue demanding and relentless, until she moaned as the first convulsion rocked her. Then he kissed her, sucking hard on her tongue, stifling her moans with his mouth as every part of her trembled and thrummed. Lightning crackled through her blood, breaking her apart, and she felt as if she were drowning in him, in his scent and taste, in the sweetest, darkest, most powerful pleasure she’d ever known.