and lifted himself on all fours to hover over her. He started to crawl forward, pausing only long enough to close his teeth on the stem of the cherry in her navel and carry it with him to her mouth. Her lips were already parted, her lungs still straining for oxygen.
“No. No more,” she panted, letting her eyes fall closed. “I can’t take any more.”
“Sure you can.” His words were slightly muted as he talked through his teeth, still holding the cherry by its stem. “Open.”
With a sigh that was part exhaustion, part reluctant anticipation, she opened her mouth and let him drop the cherry inside.
“Now close.”
She did, and he tugged, breaking the stem away from the plump, sweet fruit.
“Chew,” he ordered.
Maraschino cherries were one of her favorites and she gave a little moan of enjoyment as the tart juices played over her taste buds and ran down her throat.
In a much softer, huskier voice, Chase said, “Now open again.”
When she did, he meshed his mouth with hers, kissing her deeply, passionately, thoroughly. To her great surprise she found her strength coming back and her arms snaking up to wrap around his shoulders.
He pulled back slightly, his lips curled up at the corners as he hummed with pleasure. “That is the best hot fudge sundae I’ve ever tasted. I never want to eat one with just a spoon again.”
Elena gave a shuddery chuckle. She didn’t know if she could live through another session like that, but she was absolutely sure she would never see sundaes in quite the same way. She would never be able to look at one without remembering this night and the wicked things Chase Ramsey could do with a bit of whipped cream, chocolate sauce and his tongue.
Oh, that tongue!
“But we aren’t finished yet,” he said.
Scraping his teeth along her jaw and biting her earlobe, he reached into the nightstand drawer for a condom. He tore open the packet and sheathed himself, all without taking his focus from her neck and shoulder. Settling more fully into the cradle of her thighs, he found her feminine opening and sank inside in one long, sleek movement.
She was already wet and more than ready for his entry. Only moments ago, she’d thought herself ruined for ever again experiencing an ounce of pleasure. But she’d underestimated the power of Chase’s mode of persuasion.
He was ruthless, taking no prisoners. There was no slow buildup this time around, no teasing or tantalizing. He filled her to overflowing and began to pound into her like a piston.
His fingers dug into the flesh of her buttocks, pulling her closer to meet him on each thrust.
Harder, faster, he drove the air from her lungs, his own breaths coming rapidly. She tightened her legs around his waist, her nails raking his sweat-slick back.
“Chase,” she moaned.
“Elena,” he groaned in return before burying his face in the curve of her neck and biting gently on the taut line of muscle that ran across to her shoulder.
The orgasm, when it came, rocked her, made the room feel like it was spinning around them and spilled through her like a tidal wave. She gasped … then stopped breathing altogether. Above her, Chase gave one deep, final thrust and shouted with completion.
A second later, he collapsed, his weight pressing her into the mattress. Instead of being uncomfortable, she smiled at the boneless, total relaxation taking over his body. She could feel his heart racing in his chest, in tandem with her own, his breath stirring her hair.
Sooner than she’d have liked, he groaned and rolled away. He lay flat on his back, arms and legs spread wide, while he continued to breathe heavily.
“You’ll be the death of me, Elena,” he said with a heartfelt sigh, rolling his head to the side so he could look at her. He grinned. “But I’ll die a happy man.”
Before she could respond, he pushed up from the bed and walked stark naked to the bathroom, closing the door behind him. Suddenly conscious of her blatant nudity and the fact that she was sprawled like a rag doll in a less-than-attractive position, she hopped up and hurried to the dresser for a nightgown.
Slipping it on, she glanced at her reflection in the mirror. Her cheeks were rosy, the rest of her skin aglow. Her lips looked puffy, reminding her of that old term, “bee-stung.”
She’d never had bee-stung lips before. But then, she’d never been kissed quite as senseless, quite as passionately before, either.
Since her hair was a tousled mess, she ran her fingers through to untangle the long strands, turning just as the bathroom door opened. Chase stood there, still blessedly naked, his hands braced on either side of the doorjamb. Just the sight of him made her pulse pick up and the slippery fabric of the nightie feel rough against her bare skin.
“You didn’t have to get dressed on my account,” he quipped.
She smiled somewhat nervously, curling her painted toes into the soft, thick carpeting. “I’m not used to lying around in the altogether.”
“Too bad,” he said, striding forward and stopping directly in front of her. Using the knuckle of his index finger, he tipped her head up until she had no choice but to meet his crystal blue eyes. “That’s something I’d pay money to see. Besides, we weren’t entirely finished with our dessert. We still have champagne and quite a few strawberries to get through.”
“Well …” she said slowly, butterflies flapping sensuously in her belly, her courage growing in direct proportion to the longing heating up his gaze. Hooking her thumbs under the thin spaghetti straps at her shoulders, she slowly began to peel them down her arms. “It’s just a teeny, tiny scrap of satin. You could get it off again in no time, if you really wanted to.”
Desire flashed across his face, followed by the wicked lift of one dark brow. “Really?”
He replaced her thumbs with his own fingers and finished the job of sliding the top of the nightgown down, uncovering her chest, then her breasts and ribcage. As soon as the straps were free of her arms, he released them, letting the garment drop to the floor where it pooled around her feet.
“Well, will you look at that,” he murmured in mock astonishment. “You’re naked again. Just the way I like you.”
She squealed in surprise when he wrapped his hands around her waist and bent slightly to lift her onto one shoulder.
“Chase! What are you doing?”
“Turning caveman,” he responded without apology.
Stalking to the bed, he flipped her over and dropped her unceremoniously in the middle of the king-size mattress. She bounced on the tight springs and giggled as she couldn’t remember doing since she was a little girl.
Taking two steps to the side, Chase grabbed the bottle of Cristal by its long neck and then hopped on top of her, pinning her in place.
“This time,” he said, his tone leaving no question of his intent, “I want to see how champagne tastes when I sip it
