Crossing the Line: Without a Trace series, a contemporary erotic romance novel Read Free Page B

forget all logic, and when he steps back and offers me his hand, I follow willingly.
    Whether he has one bedroom or twelve, I couldn’t tell you. All I want are his hands on my skin. His bedroom has a large bed, modern furnishings, but beyond that, I don’t notice as he sits on the bed, positioning me between his legs. His hands guide my sweater over my head, my bra quickly following, and his mouth encircles a nipple while his fingers torture my other breast. I tangle my hands in his thick hair, surprised by the moans I barely recognize as my own. His tongue laves the pebbled tips, moving slowly between each sensitive nipple, and I’m nearly begging for release when he finally seeks out the top button of my jeans.
    I shuck them off, boots joining them, standing before him in only green silk panties (and thanking God I wore my better underwear tonight). Gripping my hips, he adjusts me so I can straddle him. His cock pulses through his pants, and he pulls me down against him. I feel like I’m going to explode as I rub against his shaft.
    When I reach for his pants, he stills my hand. “Not yet.” His eyes are dark with desire, but instead of undressing, he shifts gently so I topple onto my back.
    As his attention focuses between my thighs, I reach for him. “Don’t. It’s not really…um, something that, you know…works for me.”
    He quirks an eyebrow. “Really? Are you sure it’s been done right?”
    I laugh nervously. “I don’t know. It just never…really, um…did much.”
    He looks thoughtful for a moment, then meets my gaze. “May I try? I won’t if you don’t want me to.”
    I’ve got a near stranger asking me if he can go down on me. The oddness of the situation combined with the intensity of my desire has me giggling. Yes, giggling. But I nod, hands shaking with nerves as he kneels between my spread legs and removes my panties. With soft strokes, he teases my sensitive folds apart. He takes his time, letting me acclimate to his touch. I’ve never experienced anything like this, and I find myself both relaxed and aroused. When his tongue finds me, I startle a bit, but rather than the direct approach I’m used to, he massages around the bundle of nerves with gentle pressure. My fear evaporates, and I widen my legs to give him full access.
    His fingers slip inside me as I grip the comforter, crying out as his tongue offers no mercy. When I can barely take anymore, my orgasm breaks over my skin, a whirlwind of cold and hot across my senses. His hands hold my hips in place as I buck hard, unable to stop the waves of pleasure that push into me again and again.
    When I’m finally spent, he sits back on his heels, a satisfied grin on his face. “Like I said, are you sure it’s been done right?”
    I lift my head so I can meet his smug gaze. “Point made.” Then I fall back against the comforter.
    Lost in my post-orgasm haze, I am vaguely aware of him undressing, the sound of condom foil ripping, and then he’s beside me. He kisses me, his tongue sweeping in and possessing my mouth. I wriggle closer to him, letting him drape my thigh over his hip. I draw my hand down over his pectorals, the muscles shifting under my touch as I trail lower over the taut plane of his abs. His cock, hard and pulsating between us, twitches as I skim lower.
    Despite my desire to dissolve into jelly after my delicious orgasm, exploring his body pulls me back into the maelstrom of desire. When I push him back against the bed, he goes willingly. He holds my hips as I balance over him, the head of his cock widening my entrance. He’s thicker than I expected, and as I slide down, I have to stop and let myself adjust to him.
    His thumb finds my clit, and I lean back, bracing myself against his thighs as the sensation overwhelms me again. I shudder in anticipation of yet another orgasm, but I’m determined to hold out, to make sure he can join me before I come again. Finally able to take his full length inside of me, I begin to