Trace of Fever
Page 84

“I don’t want to miss anything.” He bent and kissed her navel. “You’re beautiful, Priss.”
“Matt did a good job.”
He smiled. “Agreed, but Matt has nothing to do with this.” He kissed her belly again. “Or this.” Stretching out beside her, he kissed her br**sts. “Or this.” He moved his fingers between her legs, parted her and, watching her face, pressed one finger in.
Her hips lifted. “No.” She sounded a little shrill. “Matt has nothing to do with any of that.”
“I’m glad.” Gently, Trace fingered her. When she gasped, he bent to her mouth and kissed her, slow, eating kisses that only made him want her more.
Having Priscilla Patterson naked on a bed in a private room, her green eyes heated, her long reddish hair in disarray around the pillows, her long legs open and her breath coming fast…that was as close to heaven as he’d ever get. And for that moment, he thought the rest of the world could damn well wait. He needed this. He needed her.
She gripped his shoulders and her nails, only recently manicured, sank into his skin.
He loved that, too. Damn, there wasn’t much Priss did that he didn’t love. Even her stubbornness turned him on.
“Oh, God,” she suddenly whispered as she put her head back, her body stiffening, trembling.
Trace realized she was close and it not only amazed him, it triggered his own lust. He crowded over her, teasing her ni**les with his teeth and tongue while keeping his finger in her, his thumb moving over her clitoris.
She tightened, gripping him, her body getting hotter, wetter. He couldn’t wait to taste her, but for now, this would do. He withdrew his finger, and worked two back in. Tight. So damn tight.
Bending one leg, Priss clenched, cried out, and then she was coming, her hips moving against his hand, heat pouring off her body. Trace took her mouth, swallowing down her moans and relishing every sound, every move.
Even after she quieted, he kept his hand between her legs, idly now, but unwilling to leave her.
“Oh, God,” she said again, lazily this time.
Trace knew she needed a little time, but he couldn’t accommodate her. Not yet. Not tonight.
He withdrew his hand and, watching her beautiful face, lifted his fingers to his mouth.
Through shallow breath, she whispered, “Trace?”
He kissed her parted lips, light and easy. Then her chin. He opened his mouth on her throat. Her br**sts.
He wanted to consume her.
Settling her hand in his hair, she said, “I think I need a minute.”
“Sorry.” Thunder roared in his ears; waiting even a second more was as impossible as not wanting her. He teased her navel with his tongue, put a soft love bite on her taut little belly, and dipped down lower.
“Trace.”
Nuzzling into her, he inhaled her spicy fragrance. Overwhelmed by her and what she made him feel, he pushed her thighs wider, parted her with his thumbs, and stroked his tongue into her.
Her recent climax had left her wet, and he loved it, but it wasn’t enough. He stroked in again, holding her still when her hips lifted off the bed and she moaned.
He wasn’t an inexperienced kid. He sure as hell wasn’t a virgin. He’d had his fair share of sexual experiences, ranging from awkward to kinky and everywhere in between.
But this all felt so new, because everything with Priss was different.
When he licked up and over her clitoris, she cried out, her thighs closing on his ears, her fingers tight in his hair. Such honest reactions, and so hot.
He drew her in, sucking gently, working her with his tongue, and within minutes she was coming again. Long, ragged groans told him how much she enjoyed this. He pressed his hips tight to the mattress and concentrated on not losing control. It wasn’t easy, not with her so wild. It went on and on, until she gave a soft sob.
“Trace, no more.” She inhaled shakily. “I can’t.”
Turning his face, Trace kissed the soft flesh of her inner thigh, lightly bit her again.
She moaned. “Will you please get naked?”
Yeah, he would. Pushing up and off the bed, Trace stripped off his pants and his boxers and left them there on the floor. Feeling Priss watch him with dazed eyes and curiosity, he grabbed for his wallet, and found a rubber. “Only one, damn it.”
“I have more.”
He looked at her in amazement, then shook his head and rolled on the condom. “I won’t ask.”
She gave his words back to him. “I figured we’d get together sooner or later, and I don’t take chances.”
Going along, Trace stole her sentiment, saying, “Responsible women are so sexy.” It amazed him that either of them could still think enough to banter. When he turned back to the bed, she opened her arms to him, and he was gone. “Very sexy.”
He didn’t think it was the effects of the drug anymore. Now it was all Priss, everything about her, that made him uncontrollable with need.
As he moved over her, she naturally parted her legs for him. They fit together perfectly, her tender thighs cradling his hips, her br**sts cushioning his chest, her mouth there for him.
“Like this, right?” Priss laced her arms around his neck, locked her ankles at the small of his back.
“Yeah.” Closing his eyes, Trace tried to go slow, to ease into her. But she was so wet, so hot, and she lifted against him, urging him on. “Yeah,” he said again, and pressed partially into her.
She caught her breath and tensed. He looked at her, but her eyes glittered with desire, not pain. Cupping a hand under her bottom, he lifted her more. Against her mouth, he said, “Tell me if I hurt you.”