Enticed (3 page)

Who the hell
cares?
bounced inside my head. Because I was ready. More than
fucking ready. Ready for what
I
wanted.

For a half
beat, my fingers cinched tighter around her waist, but I gave a
quiet growl and released my hold on her. Stepping back from the bed
a foot, I stared down at her from there.

The lace at the
front of her crotch had been small. The string at the back was
almost nonexistent. I swallowed the saliva gathering in my throat
and forced my gaze back up, to where Shelley peered at me over her
shoulder, a slight smile on her lips.

“Had your
fill?” she asked.

My eyes
automatically skimmed along her narrow back again. “Not even
close.”

I grabbed the
hem of my shirt and yanked it over my head, reaching for the laces
of my trainers before the shirt had even hit the floor. Not once
did I take my attention off my target. Not fucking once. Stamping
down on the heels eventually got my shoes off, and I kicked them
aside.

Too impatient
to deal with my jeans, I shoved a knee next to Shelley’s and sank
my chest to her back. The fabric of her corset scratched my nipples
as I braced a hand next to hers and skimmed the other around to her
stomach to haul her back against me, and my lips found the fleshy
warmth of her shoulder.

Teeth scraping
the surface, I worked my way inward, smiling at the slight
hastening of Shelley’s breaths, until my nose burrowed into the
soft strands of hair feathering around her ears. “Whose birthday is
it again?”

She shivered
against my mouth. “If you give me a chance, I’ll make it
yours.”

My lips curved.
“Oh, it’s definitely mine.”

Shoving away, I
dropped my knees to the carpet at the foot of the bed—bringing my
eyes level with exactly what I wanted.

A tremor
rippled along Shelley’s thighs when I leaned in. Wrapping a hand
around each leg, I slid them apart a little, moving closer
still.

Before my nose
even nudged where the raspberry lace disappeared out of sight, the
scent of female arousal blasted me in the face. I groaned, pressing
my cheek to her hide as I drank in a head full, my eyes closing as
the effects washed straight through to my dick.

Lids fluttering
open again, I brushed a hand up her thigh, over stocking and skin,
not stopping until my thumb met her underwear, and the first hum of
a growl brewed—as much at the quiet whimper from Shelley as at the
dampness there. Leaving my thumb where it was, I kissed just to the
side, my lips parting for a taste of flesh before brushing across
the downy softness. I kissed her again, my tongue peeking out for
another sample before retreating.

A shiver had
Shelley twitching, her breath catching like a tune of anticipation
to my ears, and I pressed my lips there again, my mouth and tongue
working up a sensual massage of warmth. First across one side of
her butt, then across to the other, circling the spot pumping out
her scent, but never touching. That would come. Just had to have
patience.

Sweeping too
close got me an erotic invitation to the face, and my lips curled
back, my teeth itching to sink into the flesh there, to sink into
any part of her flesh, but I could only allow play biting. No more
than that. The second Shelley gasped and pushed back against me, I
reined it in.

The mating
instinct in me, where Shelley was concerned, had been too intense
from the very first time we made love. To begin, it had scared the
shit out of me—the wanting to bite, the need to make her mine
whether she fucking wanted it or not. I’d learned to control it
without having to clamp my mouth shut every damn time—and to ignore
whatever the hell it might truly mean.

Bringing my
other hand up, I cupped the tops of both of her thighs, my thumbs
brushing a little higher, parting her. Nudging my face lower, I
folded my lips over the thin cloth of fabric covering her
wetness.

At Shelley’s
low groan, my growl finally rumbled out, and I spread my hands over
her rear, my fingers gripping the strings that hooked over her
hips.

“Don’t you
da—”

Yanking my
hands apart tore the straps of her knickers. I didn’t even bother
flicking them aside before I grabbed the curve of her arse and
lifted her higher. Mouth as wide as it'd go, I closed my lips over
as much of her as I could reach, and her body jerked as her gasp
shot out.

Fingers
massaging where they held, I let myself explore. My tongue swept
upward, from front to back. Flicking over the tiny nub of pleasure
that had Shelley whimpering again. Through the folds of silky
flesh, where I had to hold her still to stop her pushing back and
chasing my tongue. All the way back to where her wetness trickled
from her like a drip-feed of pure beauty straight to my taste
buds.

Tightening the
seal of my lips, I dipped in my tongue and sucked. Sweetness
flooded the back of my throat, my growl that bubbled through there
vibrating the pooled liquid, and my dick all but begged me to take
her the fuck already.

Eyes flickering
closed, I loosened a hand from her rear and dropped it to the waist
of my jeans. Flipped the studs free. One after another. Rammed the
waistband down as low as it’d go without having to move. Slipping a
hand inside, I wrapped my fingers around my length through my
boxers. Gripped hard. Trying to stem the urges it screamed at me.
Trying to calm it.

There’d be no
calming him, though, not while I gulped down doses of Shelley—he
wouldn’t be happy until he rammed into her depths. Thrust as far as
she’d accept him. Taken her fucking pleasure as his own. He’d never
be happy until he got what he wanted.

Just like
me.

Snatching down
the hem of my shorts, I sprang him free, and he damned nearly
climbed out of there himself first chance he got. Hell, he’d have
probably roared to the rooftops about his liberation and demanded I
feed him fucking now, given half the chance. Instead, all he got
from me was ignorance, as I blanked his throbbing plea for
attention, the tingles shooting his length every time he brushed
the cotton duvet overhanging the bed. He could wait until I was
damned well ready.

Shelley’s sighs
heightened as I focused back onto my suckling. I nudged her thighs
farther apart with my forearms, forcing my way through until I
could wrap my arms the entire span of her thighs, front to back, my
fingers reaching to spread her even farther. The entire move
knocked her balance, left me bearing her weight. Left her ankles
clamping wherever they could.

I didn’t care.
Not when a probe of my tongue spilled a new pool to my throat. Had
her moaning out my name, which warmed through to my core every damn
time. Had every muscle in her rear clenching beneath my fingertips,
sending slivers of excitement piercing their way through my
veins.

I glided my
tongue back to her nub, worked the sensitive spot against my lower
teeth and lips.

“Oh, God.”
Shelley moaned, long and low, making my dick pound out its
impatience harder than ever.

Her butt and
thighs tightened. Fingers stretched over her rear and raked into my
hair. Fisting there. Dragging my head forward, as she trembled
against my face.

“Don’t stop,”
she whispered, the words broken, barely more than panted breaths.
“God, Ethan, don’t stop.” Her body made small undulations against
me—as much of a backward thrust as she could force through the
binding of my arms.

I slid my upper
lip down, retracting my tongue, and sucked the bud into my mouth.
Her body jerked, bumping me as I scooted far enough back to catch
the juices.

When I shifted
forward again, her fingers caught within my hair, yanking the
strands taut.

It didn’t stop
me. I couldn’t stop. Just sucked and sucked like I couldn’t get
enough. Like an animal finding nourishment on the pinnacle of
starvation—spurred on by Shelley’s gasps.

Her breath
hitched. As did her cries. Her moans. Her whispered pleas. The tiny
backward twitches of her butt.

Uncaring of the
dampness leaking onto my cheeks, my chin, the slow drip to my
chest, I sucked harder. Not even caring that I couldn’t fucking
breathe. Not while half of Shelley’s pleas held my name. Not so
long as she served me the best fucking nectar on the planet.

When her entire
body stilled, her cries diminished as she seemed to hold her
breath, and the muscles of her thighs knotted beneath my forearms,
I knew her to be close. To be so close, all it would take was the
right pressure, the right positioning, that even just the right
scrape of my teeth would finish her.

The skin
stretched so taut over my dick, it hurt. Good hurt—but in a way I
wouldn’t be able to hold onto forever before I’d have to relieve
the pressure.

Parting my lips
wider, I licked. Tasted. Teased. Drank. Before slamming my lips
back down, growling with satisfaction at the beginnings of
Shelley’s deep moan hitting my ears.

Sucking even
harder had that moan heightening and set a wave of vibrations
running beneath the surface of Shelley’s flesh, until every locked
muscle in her body seemed to uncoil. To writhe.

Her cries
escalated into begging gasps as her orgasm hit my face. Gasps for
more. Gasps to stop.

Each time she
pleaded for more, she pushed back against me. Each time she
beseeched me to stop, she bucked away.

I held her
tight throughout it all. She could finish when I damned well said
so. Not a second before. Not before I’d had my fill. Not before the
very part of me that craved her taste had been satiated. Never
before I was ready.

Closing my
mouth down on the whole of her, I drank, relishing in the throb of
her core pounding against my tongue.

My eyes closed
as I swallowed. My chest rumbled. Fingers clutching at Shelley, my
own body thrust forth again, more eager than fucking ever to sink
into her depths.

As Shelley’s
panted breaths slowed, only hitching with intermittent shudders of
her body and pauses to let out a tiny whimper, I withdrew my lips,
my nose.

Resting my
forehead against her soft flesh, I gulped in breaths until my chest
heaved, and relaxing my hold of her, I unhooked my arms, letting my
hands slip down until they rested around her stockinged thighs.

I remained
there for seconds, like, even in the aftermath, I couldn’t bring
myself to let go of her scent. Couldn’t bring myself to step away.
To risk losing it.

“I think I’m
dead,” Shelley said, the words half whispered, half groaned.

Lips curving, I
turned my head to the side enough to sink my teeth into her
butt.

Her body
twitched forward away from me, but it was a pathetic effort.
“Hey.”

She peered back
at me over her shoulder, from where she’d sank to the mattress God
knew when, her torso all twisted up like I’d broken her, though I
knew I hadn’t. The fingers of her right hand fisted around the
cover of the duvet. The raspberry fringe of her hair stuck up or
out, above eyes half closed and a bright glassy green, so full of
lazy contentment my dick swelled all over the fuck again.

“You going to
let me rest first?” she murmured.

I smiled. “What
do you think?”

“Thank God for
that.”

Chuckling, I
gripped her hips and flipped her onto her back. A hand skimming
down each thigh, I parted them enough to reveal the glossiness I’d
created as I climbed up onto the bed with Shelley.

Her eyes
flickered downward, toward my crotch, where my dick bounced over
top of my boxers like a divining rod in search of the good
stuff.

Her eyebrow
arched up, nudging at the few strands across her forehead. “You
start without me down there?”

“No, he was
suffocating.”

“Poor Buddy.
Good job you rescued him, then,” she said, a smile playing on her
lips. “It’s dangerous for a guy to shut off the oxygen supply to
his brain.”

I thrust
forward, bracing a hand alongside her shoulder as I slipped a
finger into her still-damp depths and pressed down with the ball of
my hand. Her gasp was loud, fast descending to a low groan as she
tipped back her head and closed her eyes.

I sank my lips
to her ear. “Pot, kettle, black, Shel.”

She un-clutched
the bedding, but didn’t open her eyes as she tapped her head. “A
woman’s brain is
always
in—”

She gasped
again, as I sent in a second finger to join the first, cupping my
hand to catch the spillage I could feel swelling in there. She
pushed her foot against the bed, lifting her hip as she arched
toward me.

Pulling out and
sliding back in with a third finger had her hand fisting at her
temple, and with the second wave of Shelley’s scent brewing in the
air, my hips surged forward with impatience.

Nose nuzzling
against her neck, I inhaled, long and deep. “Jesus, Shelley, I need
you,” I murmured, the words hoarse.

Her lips
brushed my neck with her whispered, “Then, quit fooling
around.”

I chuckled on
an exhale and lifted from her throat. Before I could dive for the
bedside cabinet, Shelley gripped my forearms. She didn’t explain
when I sent a questioning glance down at her, just wormed out an
arm, reached high over her head, sending the stiff lace of her
bodice up to scratch against my chest, and nudged up her
pillow.

Beneath lay a
scattering of condoms. More than enough for a good few hours of
fun. Enough for an entire day. To the point I wondered if the
pack’d miss me if I didn’t show to my own party.

My smile
appeared, whether I wanted it to or not. “You’re eager.”

“I prefer to
think of myself as
prepared
,” she said with a wink,
snatching out one of the foil wrappings.

It took all of
two seconds to ram my jeans and shorts the rest of the way over my
hips. To kick them off, out of the way. To nudge us higher on the
bed and nestle my knees back between Shelley’s thighs.