A Taste Of Paradise. Leslie Kelly

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A Taste Of Paradise - Leslie Kelly Mills & Boon Blaze

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who are you pledging? Alpha Alpha Alpha?” she asked with a giggle, because the man was the definition of that word.

      “Very funny.”

      “Okay, okay. Just remind me—is football the one with the big, round, orange ball or the pointy triangular ball?”

      “You’re hopeless,” he said, running his fingers gently through her hair. He’d admitted that her red hair had caught his eye from across the casino the night they’d met, and that he’d been hoping she would cross his path. Funny that she’d ended up cheering on one of her friends at the craps table where Nate was laying bets much larger than her own. Funny...and lucky.

      “Sorry, the only sport I enjoy is croquet. I’d kick your ass in croquet.”

      “I don’t doubt it.”

      And she didn’t doubt him, not anymore. She’d been skeptical at first. After he’d told her who he was, laughing at her shocked expression when he admitted most of the rest of the world would have recognized him on sight, she’d checked him out on the internet. Yeah, he was a pretty big deal. Which just made her wonder even more why he’d spent the past three days glued at the hip to her.

      Of course, their hips did match up very nicely. As did all their other parts.

      She shivered with the thrill of the sensual memories. Noticing, he dropped a powerful arm across her waist, pulling her close, as if to warm her. But frankly, when Nate pulled her against his smoking body, she didn’t get warm—she got hot. Luckily, the opulent suite at one of the most exclusive five-star hotels on the strip was nicely air conditioned.

      “I’m becoming addicted to you,” he whispered as he leaned closer to scrape his lips along the edge of her ear. He nibbled on the lobe, breathing hotly down her neck.

      “I can’t move,” she said, groaning even as she laughed at how utterly relentless he was.

      “You don’t have to. Just lie there and enjoy.”

      Good lord. The man was insatiable. But when he began to kiss his way down her body, she certainly didn’t protest. Instead, as his warm mouth reached her breast and his lips covered her nipple to suck deeply, she merely groaned.

      “I love these,” he mumbled as he moved to suckle the other.

      “I’m so glad,” she purred, her strength returning as a different kind of energy began to pour through her.

      He continued to caress her breasts, squeezing lightly. The tension within her increased, the pleasure exponentially so, and she arched toward his strong, warm mouth. Her breasts had always been sensitive, and when he drew on them like that—oh, God, like that—she thought she might climax merely from the sensation of his lips and his masterful tongue on her skin.

      He kissed her between her breasts and then descended down her body, lavishing attention on her sensitive skin. She quivered beneath him, holding her breath as he explored her, inch by inch. She was almost crying by the time he stopped at her belly, dipping his tongue into the hollow, nibbling her hipbone, his very breaths hitting all her pleasure sensors.

      “Nate, please,” she cried, begging him to go further, to give her the kind of dizzying climax he could so easily provide. The man’s mouth was perfect for smiling, but even more perfect for oral sex, at which he’d already proved himself a master.

      “Please what?”

      “Please use your mouth on me.” She had no shame with him; he removed every thought in her head but the need to climb ever higher. “Make me come.”

      “Greedy girl.”

      She twisted beneath him, and finally he continued to move down. By the time his jaw brushed against the soft curls between her legs she was on fire, a live wire of sensation.

      She was greedy. With him she was a different woman. With this amazing stranger she was a completely sensual being, in tune with every ounce of pleasure she was capable of achieving.

      “Oh, God, yes,” she groaned when he moved his mouth right where she craved it and stroked her with his tongue.

      He groaned himself as he tasted her, eating her into a mindless frenzy. She’d had oral sex before, but never with someone who seemed to totally get off on giving it. Nate devoured her as if he was starving, his warm tongue licking into her, making love to her, before he returned to her clit and got serious about bringing her to orgasm. The intensity of the sensation was shocking, overwhelming, and she began to shudder, bucking up toward his mouth.

      And then the pressure erupted into a warm sea of waves that rolled through her, relentless as a tide, bringing utter satisfaction. She cried out, stunned by the power and perfection of her release. Nate moved up her body, kissing the sound right off her lips, before the pulsing delight had ceased. And then he was inside her, riding it out with her.

      “I can’t get enough of you,” he growled as he plunged deep. “The minute we stop, I fantasize about starting again.”

      “Ditto,” she muttered, shocked that he could have made her so wet, so ready for him again, when they’d made love more times in the past three days than she had in a year. But every inch of her was attuned to him, welcoming his massive cock, loving the heat of it, the thickness of it, the way he bored into her as if he was an explorer claiming her for his very own.

      She’d always viewed sex as a journey toward orgasm, not realizing quite how remarkable the trip itself could be.

      “I’ve never experienced anything like this.”

      “Neither have I,” she admitted.

      “Don’t leave tomorrow.”

      She tightened her legs around his hips, arching up to take his deep thrusts. “I have to.”

      “Why don’t you come to Miami with me?”

      She laughed, but the laughter melted into a helpless groan when he plunged again.

      “Come with me.”

      “I’m going to,” she said, deliberately misinterpreting. And a few moments later, when he reached his climax, angling his hips to give her just enough pressure where she required it most, she did exactly that. Heather let out a little scream as she fell off the ledge into pure sensory delight all over again.

      “Come with me,” he demanded, staying on top of her, kissing her jaw, her nose, her lips.

      She considered it. There was her shop—her employees were very reliable. Her schedule—she could always change Friday’s dentist appointment. Her houseplants...screw the houseplants. Her parents—they were so in love, they probably wouldn’t even notice she was gone. Her father was capable of taking care of her more-than-a-little-flighty, dreamy, irresponsible mother.

      “My place is right on the beach,” he told her as he brushed his stubbled cheek against hers. “You can walk out my door and be in the surf within a hundred steps.”

      Oooh, tempting. April in Vegas was very nice, but it definitely wasn’t a beach in Florida.

      “Give me a chance to think about it,” she said, sorely tempted to

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