Be My Bride. Natalie Anderson
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In a second her shirt was over her head and had landed somewhere on the floor. She wasn’t wearing a bra—often didn’t at home. So now her painfully tight nipples were bared and screaming out for his touch.
He’d frozen—staring at her. She put her hands to the fastening of her shorts—that got him moving.
‘No.’ He put one hand over hers and pushed them out of the way.
He undid the button and slipped her shorts down. Then, so slowly, he slipped her thin knickers down too.
She stepped out of them both. For a fleeting moment she was surprised she wasn’t more self-conscious. But how could she be when he was on his knees looking up at her like that? He reached out, putting strong hands on her legs—one just above each knee. She stilled, her legs parted.
‘You’re even more beautiful than—’ He stopped, suddenly pressing close, his tongue swiping over her. She cried out and bent forward to put her hands on his shoulders for balance. Instinctively she pressed her hips close to him again.
It wouldn’t take much for her to orgasm. Another touch? It was crazy how close she was just from being stripped by him. But suddenly she didn’t want that—to come in a nanosecond. He was right to want to take this slow—to savour it. To indulge fully and finally complete what had been started so long ago. But she wouldn’t feel as if it was complete until—unless—he was right there with her, every step of the way.
She wanted him to feel this as strongly as she was.
‘I want to come when you’re inside me,’ she said in a quavery voice. ‘When you come too.’
His hands tightened on her legs as he lifted his chin, kissing her right there again. But then he stood, wrapping his arms around her and drawing her close.
‘I’m not entering you until you’ve come.’
She blinked. ‘What?’
‘You heard.’
She snapped her spine and tilted her chin to look into his eyes. ‘Well, I’m not coming until you’re in me and on your way yourself.’
A smile stretched across his face. ‘Gonna be a fun night, isn’t it?’
She rose onto tiptoe and kissed him—openmouthed, wet, demanding. He shifted, widening his stance so he could keep them upright as she thrust against him, pushing her weight onto him. She could feel his erection slammed against her belly. She felt the way he kissed her back—as hot, as hungry, his hands sliding over her body, touching every part of her.
She smiled. So much for slow.
He lifted his head; his own smile was wicked. He kissed her again and his hands went to her breasts. She gasped at the touch. He didn’t dive straight for her nipples, instead he cupped the full weight of her breasts, gently pushing, fingers circling. She felt the tug deep inside as he kissed her again. The guy had the most incredible sense of rhythm—sweet, carnal torment.
Suddenly she couldn’t stand any more. Literally. He caught her as her knees sagged and he lifted her to her hideously narrow bed. She breathed out in relief, her legs parting, holding her arms out to him as he knelt over her.
But he didn’t put his weight on her, didn’t line up his pelvis with hers the way she really wanted. Instead he put his mouth and hands to work in tandem again—repeatedly, rhythmically sweeping over her until she was hot and writhing and so ready. She arched her hips, thrusting them against him again and again.
‘Liam,’ she begged. ‘Please.’
He leaned back on his arms to look into her face. ‘I’ve always wanted you,’ he said, his expression strained. ‘Always wanted this.’
‘Me too,’ she confessed shamelessly. ‘Please, please, please get on with it.’
To her immense relief, he left her, efficiently scooping his trousers from the floor and pulling a new pack of condoms from his pocket. A minute later she heard the snap as he sheathed himself.
She lay back on the bed and spread her legs in welcome. But he wrapped a hand around her ankle and started all over again—kissing from her toes, all the way up the length of her leg. It was torture. But it was bliss.
Why had she thought this wouldn’t be a good idea? This was the best idea she’d ever had. She writhed beneath him, almost in tears, almost laughing, and totally furious that he could still hold back from plunging into her. She rolled, deciding to take matters into her own hands—to mount him and initiate the ride herself.
He let her on top—but he didn’t let her slide onto him. Instead he laughed and caught her hips, using his insane, superior strength to keep her in place just above him. But still he didn’t penetrate.
‘Tease,’ she groaned.
‘Not ’til you come first.’
She closed her eyes. ‘Not without you inside me.’
He laughed. ‘Then we’re at a stalemate.’ He bent his knees and slid down the bed while lifting her so she remained in place—now higher above him.
‘You know how much I like to win,’ he muttered, lifting his hands to palm her breasts again. ‘I’ll do whatever it takes to win.’
He shifted a little more so he could kiss her right where she needed him to. His tongue swept into her.
She cried out, her head falling back at the extreme intimacy. ‘Liam.’
‘Come on me,’ he muttered. He licked again and then fastened his lips around her clitoris and sucked.
Her thighs quivered and she pressed her fists onto her knees. He reached up, filling his hands with her breasts. She breathed hard, knowing there was no way she could beat him at this.
‘If I come…’ she panted.
‘Yes.’ He broke the rhythm of his tongue for only a split second to answer.
‘If…’ She couldn’t get it out. ‘Yes.’ He manipulated her breasts more—perfectly in time to the sweeps of his lips and tongue.
‘I…’
‘Yes.’
‘Oh—yes!’ She shuddered as the orgasm hit. Unstoppable. Delightful. Her prolonged groan escaped through gritted teeth.
A satisfied sound rumbled from his throat as he kept tormenting her, so the waves of pleasure kept rippling through her in intense contractions.
She gasped, panting for breath. ‘Please.’
He released her and she slid, bumping her head on the wall as she tumbled to the side of him.
‘Careful.’ He pulled her into his arms, moving to slide her beneath him, but her stupid bed was too small.
They