Pulling his head back, his control threatening to slip, Rule stared down at her, his gaze narrowed on her sensually flushed features.
“I’ll be lucky if I make it to my suite,” he groaned. “You go to my head faster than liquor.”
...
She went to his head faster than liquor?
Gypsy could feel her blood racing through her body, pounding at her clit, in the sensitive tissue of her pussy, and wondered how a kiss would have a woman so ready, so hot and so eager to fuck for a man’s touch.
She didn’t want to wait. She wanted to take him here, now. She wanted his tongue against hers, pushing between her lips and making her even more delirious with pleasure as his hands pushed the material of her dress to her hips. She wanted him to drive that hard, heavy flesh rising between his thighs into the torturous ache between hers.
When his lips refused to kiss her hard enough, hot enough, her fingers speared into his hair, gripped the coarse strands and tried to hold him in place.
She needed so much more than he was giving her.
And it didn’t make sense.
This was too dangerous.
He might not kiss and tell—or whatever version of it they were about to do—but that didn’t mean the Unknown wouldn’t know. They were masters at knowing, especially the one she had made contact with.
Yet pulling away, denying him, was impossible.
She couldn’t taste him deep enough, couldn’t feel the power of his kiss sinking far enough into her and couldn’t make herself care about anything but needing more and more of him.
And that wasn’t like her.
But then, she hadn’t been herself since the night she had glanced across a bar and met his gaze so many weeks ago. As though she had been waiting for him all her life.
The ping of the elevator was only a distant sound, but the feel of Rule suddenly lifting her into his arms and striding from the cubicle was anything but distant. It was the most amazingly sensual act she had experienced to date.
“This is insane,” she whispered, burying her lips against his neck to test the tough flesh with her teeth before licking over the place where her teeth had bitten.
And he wasn’t protesting the feel of her sharp teeth at his neck either. If that rumbled little growl in his chest was anything to go by, he just might have enjoyed it.
She wondered if she could get him to bite her.
A shudder raced through her at the thought, the slide of moisture between her thighs further wetting her already saturated flesh.
“Good God, what were you just thinking?” he groaned as he set her on her feet next to the door of his suite. “Because your hot little pussy just went supernova on me.”
He swiped the security card through the reader, pushed open the door and took a second to test the air before he strode into the room.
The door locked behind them, enclosing them in a world of flickering candlelight and sensual warmth that filled the living area and the bedroom as well. It was like walking into the most romantic dream she could have conjured up. The preparations he had made gave the room a sultry, erotic feel, and a dreamlike quality that he only added to as he carried her to the bedroom.
He didn’t set her on her feet next to the bed. Instead, he laid her back on it, following her down as his hands began gathering the material of her dress and pushing it above her knees.
His lips were on her neck as he shed his jacket, tore at the tie and shirt until he had tossed them to the floor as well, then kicked his dress shoes to the floor. His lips began moving over the firm upper swells of her breasts, leaving a trail of fiery pleasure in the wake of his kisses.
He was moving so fast she couldn’t keep up. She couldn’t process the pleasure or the sensations, and the dizzying surges of them were making her feel overheated and rushed.
If he would just slow down . . .
Gypsy fought to pull in much-needed air as she panted beneath him, feeling him tense above her, his hands moving from where he’d been pushing her dress farther up her legs to clench in the blankets beneath her.
“You okay?” he suddenly growled, his lips at her neck, then her jaw, brushing against them at a much slower pace as she tried to pull her own senses back now.
“I’m okay.” At least, she thought she was.
Hesitantly, she lifted her hands to the hard abdomen straining above hers, her fingers curling as she allowed herself to stroke the tight, bunched muscles.
His skin wasn’t soft, it was tough and at first appeared completely free of any body hair. But it wasn’t, at least not completely. Beneath her palms she could feel the ultra soft sensation of tiny, almost invisible hairs beneath her touch.
And she loved the feel of it.
She stroked to his chest, his hard shoulders, then down again to the clenched abs to where he’d only managed to free the button that held his slacks closed.
Lifting his head from where his lips had been caressing the shell of her ear, Rule eased further above her, his weight held with unconscious strength on his powerful arms.
“Your pace,” he swore, though his voice was hard, tight. “I swear it, Gypsy. Anything, everything you want. All at your pace.”
All at her pace?
Anything, everything she wanted?
Did she even know exactly what she did want from him past this pleasure, his touch, the warmth of him—
He watched her as she stroked his shoulders again, then lifted her hand to brush over his lips.
She hadn’t seen him enjoying the small chocolate and peppermint hard candies tonight, but she had tasted the sweet essence of them in his kiss.
And she craved more of it.
She was going to do this.
Hunger and fear flashed through her, running side by side as a part of her mind watched in horror, unable to believe the wanton he was drawing out.
Her fingers found the zipper of his slacks and began to slide it free, loosening the material over the straining flesh of his cock.
She couldn’t believe she was doing this. Couldn’t believe she was actually throwing away her chance for redemption, for forgiveness—she was throwing it away for this Breed and a pleasure unlike anything she had known before.
“Gypsy, baby, do you know what you’re doing?” he asked as her fingers moved from the zipper to the heavy length of iron-hard flesh that rose from between his thighs.
“I told you, I haven’t done it before,” she whispered, stroking her fingers along the throbbing, heavily veined shaft.
From the wide, silken knob to the pulsing crest, then to the tightly drawn sac beneath. Every inch of him was so hard, heated and insistent for her touch.
She couldn’t encircle the heavy width with the fingers of one hand, so she contented herself with stroking him from base to tip, feeling the flesh clench and pound beneath her touch as she felt her entire body beginning to burn for his possession of her, for her possession of him.
She lifted her head and laid her lips against his chest, her tongue peeking out to taste. And she craved so much more.
Pulling back, her hands flattening against his chest as she pushed at him.
“I want to touch you.” That wasn’t her voice, so low and echoing with a pleasure that bordered pain.
“Gypsy, baby,” he groaned, but he moved.
Rising from the bed, he quickly discarded his pants and his socks before completely surprising her. Kneeling on the mattress with one knee, Rule wrapped his arms around her and lifted her to him, lowering the zipper of her dress as he stared intently into her eyes.
What had happened to her touching him? To him lying back for her? And why wasn’t she protesting?
He removed her dress slowly, satisfaction filling his expression as he pulled it from her, then tossed it carelessly over a nearby chair. Clad now in nothing but French-cut white lace panties and the black stockings with the iridescent emerald green thread sparkling within them, Gypsy felt the need burning inside her heating further.