The Affair: Week 2 Read Free Page A

stiff ridge of his forefinger, the slippery movement of his seeking fingertip. It felt so good—better than when she touched herself; more concise, more imperative. She could so easily lose herself to this feeling . . . to him.
    “That’s right,” he murmured against her lips. “Just give in to it.”
    She moaned, the fever in her rising, the friction he wrought with his skillful hand mounting. He pierced her lips with his tongue, capturing her groan of ecstasy. She grew so hot, so excited, that the souls of her feet tingled and her nipples grew painfully hard against her bra. As if he could read her body with his mind, he abruptly broke their kiss. She gasped in excited surprise when he pressed his mouth to the upper curve of her right breast. His head moved, his lips charting the swell of the flesh.
    “Oh God,” she moaned in dazed arousal when he closed lips around the nipple and sucked through her T-shirt and bra. Her hips pressed up more insistently against his hand between her thighs. He was playing her clit expertly, but she longed to have him penetrate her. Fill her. She could feel the heat of his mouth on her breast, the wetness penetrate the cloth, the delicious suction. The stimulation on her nipple and clit at once nearly brought her to climax. But then his hand moved, his dragging forefinger along her naked pelvis and lower belly leaving a wet trail of her juices.
    “Oh . . . no,” she protested, disoriented by the sudden absence of his magical touch. He lifted his head.
    “Shhhh,” he whispered, the hushing sound soothing, but also firm, authoritative, as if he was saying,
wait, your pleasure will come in due time.
She bit her lip to stifle her ragged breathing as she watched him lift her T-shirt, his actions deliberate and focused, as if he didn’t want to rush this. He carefully arranged her T-shirt over her breasts, his stare so intent her clit pinched in anguished arousal. He whisked a fingertip over the top of her breast and inserted it inside the edge of her bra.
    “Jesus. You’re beautiful,” he said quietly when he’d pushed back the fabric and exposed a nipple.
    He looked up at her desperate whimper.
    “Just a little longer, baby, keep still,” he soothed and commanded at once.
    He dipped another finger beneath the fabric of the other cup, holding her stare the whole time, his touch scalding her. He lifted the flesh over the edge and then pushed the bra down securely beneath her exposed breasts. She forced her hips not to rise on the seat. She needed pressure on her pussy so badly. Her gaze moved down with his. Emma gritted her teeth and moaned in agony when she saw the picture her breasts made, both of them standing up pertly over the bunched cups, her nipples dark pink and very hard with arousal.
    A surge of liquid heat went through her when he groaned roughly. “Look at that, like tight little buds,” he muttered, sounding awed as he plucked at one nipple, then another. The ache of desire inside her clamped so tight, it hurt. She had to shut her eyes, the vision was so erotic—his dark, masculine fingers against her pale skin, caressing and pinching her delicate nipples, an expression of rapt hunger on his handsome face.
    She made a strangled sound in her throat. He paused in his illicit caresses, and she opened her eyes warily. Their gazes met for a heart-stopping second.
    Then his head lowered and he sucked a captive nipple into his mouth, and his finger slid again beneath her panties. Twin bolts of pleasure pierced her, pinning her to the spot, forcing her to submit. She trembled in the face of a huge, intimidating wave of pleasure. It was going to crash down on her, steal her breath—
    “Come. I’ve got you,” he rasped next to her damp breast. Then he took her nipple into his wet, warm mouth again, sucking harder this time. She cried out sharply as heaven fell. Shudder after shudder wracked her. One of his hands found its way to her back. He lifted her slightly from