Read Been Loving You Too Long Online

Authors: Seraphina Donavan

Tags: #Romance

Been Loving You Too Long (7 page)

BOOK: Been Loving You Too Long
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“We’ll do that later. Right now, I can’t wait.” She’d no sooner said the words than she felt the fabric of her underwear tighten and then give entirely as he ripped them from her.
 

His fingers moved over her, testing the slickness.

Wordlessly, she parted her thighs further, lifting her hips toward him.
 
It was the clearest invitation she could give.

When his fingers slid between the damp folds, coasting over the sensitive bud of her clit, she cried out, clutching at his shoulders.
 
“Vincent, I need you—now.” Her hands moved to his belt.
 
She loosened it, in spite of fumbling fingers, and then unzipped his pants.
 
A whimper of need escaped her when she closed her hand around the thick, hard length.
 
Her fingers would barely meet.
 
Thinking of how it would feel when he was moving inside her was more than she could stand.
 

Vincent tugged her hips forward, until his cock nestled against the damp folds of her sex.
 
He didn’t have to guide his cock into her.
 

She took the initiative, easing him inside the slick walls of her welcoming sheath.
 
The clenching heat of her body was the sweetest torment.
  

 

~~****~~

 
 

Nudging the head of his cock deeper, Vincent lifted her legs higher on his hips, opening her more fully to him.
 
The sounds she made, the soft whimpers and moans while she arched against him, had him gritting his teeth and fighting for control.
 
Circling his hips, he nudged deeper still, sinking into her heat one blissful inch at a time.
 

He wanted to plunge into her, to drive into her again and again, but he found the strength to hold back.
  
Leaning forward, he nipped her earlobe gently with his teeth.
 
“You feel so good, Ophelia—so hot and wet, so fucking tight.
 
I can’t tell you how many times I’ve dreamt of this, of what it would feel like to sink my cock into your softness, your heat.”

“Vincent, please!” she pleaded, her nails scoring his back as she clung to him.

“Tell me what you need, Ophelia.”
 

“I need you.”

He moved his hips, circling against hers.

She quivered against him.
 

“Is that what you want?”

“More!”

“Tell me,” he urged.
 

“Harder and faster—please!”

Vincent grabbed her hips, holding them firmly as he withdrew, only to plunge into her again.
 
He gave her what she asked for, driving into her slick sheath again and again, harder and faster with each thrust.
 

She clung to him, meeting each thrust, the walls of her sex clenching around him.

Reaching between their bodies, he found the hardened nub of her clit and pressed his finger tips against it, bracketing it between them, so that with every thrust, the pressure crested and ebbed.
 
He could feel the quivering of her belly, the tremble in her thighs as she tightened them around him.
 

There was a hitch to her breathing and the soft sounds she made became louder, more insistent.
 

God, he wanted to feel her come.
 
He wanted to feel her coming apart beneath him, around him.
 
“Come for me,” he commanded.
 
“Let me see you.”
 

She tensed against him then, her whole body quivering as a harsh moan escaped her parted lips.
 
Then the inner muscles clenching around him began to flutter and spasm rhythmically.
 

Each sensual wave pushed him closer to that intoxicating precipice.
 
When she raised her legs and locked her ankles behind him, tugging him even deeper, he was lost.
 
His balls tightened and that familiar tension crept through him.
 
She clenched around him again, milking him, and the pleasure just took him.
 

He pumped into her, spilling himself inside her, each hot spurt easing his passage even more.
 
Closing his arms around her, he pressed his face against her neck and waited for the shudders to recede.
  

When they could both breathe again, he eased back and looked at her.
 
With her flushed cheeks and kissed swollen lips, she created a wanton picture, one that he’d envisioned so many times.
 
“Regrets can wait until morning,” he said.

 

~~****~~

 
 

Ophelia smiled.
 
They would come.
 
Of that, she was certain, but she planned to hold them off as long as possible and enjoy the moment.
 
“That sounds like a breakfast conversation,” she replied.
 

Vincent kissed her then.
 
“Let’s go find a bed and do this right.”

Ophelia slid off the desk and stood on legs that wobbled more than she cared to admit. She gathered her dress in one hand, and slipped her other hand into his as he led her toward the stairs.
 

Watching the play of muscle as he moved was awe inspiring.
 
She’d seen him almost naked before.
 
He’d been wearing nothing more than a pair of swim trunks as he’d done laps in the pool.
 
In that swimsuit, he’d given Daniel Craig a run for his money.
 

The thought of having him naked in bed, touching his bronzed skin, running her fingers through the crisp dark hair that bisected his ridged abs and framed the thick length of his cock was the stuff of fantasies.
 

The room he led her to was the one he’d used since moving back into the house.
 
It was a masculine room, the deep blues of the bedding and the dark woods suited him.

He released her hand and turned on the bedside lamp, before flipping a switch that left the room largely in shadow.
 

In that moment, taking in the perfection of his body, Ophelia felt doubt.
 
It didn’t matter that he’d just taken her on a desk minutes earlier.
 
She fought the urge to cringe and hide herself.
 

He must have recognized her hesitance because he paused before unfastening his pants.
 
“If you want to leave, just say it. I don’t want you to go, but if—?”

“I don’t want to go.
 
I’m just having one of those moments where I am cataloging every flaw in my body, both real and imagined,” she responded, more than a little shocked by her own honesty.
 

Normally, she was fine with her body.
 
She wasn’t a size two and she never would be.
 
Her size eighteen had always been just fine with her.
 
She liked her curves, liked that she looked like a woman and not a stick figure.
 
But this was Vincent, who routinely dated models and actresses, or worse, socialites, who had not an ounce of extra flesh anywhere on his body.
 
A few doubts were only natural.
 

Ophelia tensed when he moved toward her, but her eyes were glued to him.
 

Muscles rippled with each step, like watching a big cat stalking its prey.
 
When he was only inches from her, she could see the faint lines at the corners of his eyes and the slight glint of silver at his temples.
 
They were flaws, but they only made him more beautiful to her.
 

“You’re perfect. Everything about you is perfect, Ophelia, and I’ll prove it.”

With an offer like that, she could hardly refuse.
 
Reaching back, she freed the clasp of her bra and slid it down until it joined the dress she’d just discarded.
 
She was totally naked in front of him but for a pair of stockings and a garter belt.
  
She could feel his eyes traveling over her, the weight of his gaze as heavy as a touch.
 

“Perfect,” he repeated.
  
His voice was roughened with desire.
 

It elicited an answering shiver from her and, unconsciously, she stepped closer to him.
  
That subtle movement pressed her breasts against his bare chest.

Skin to skin, the spark between them ignited again.
 
Her nipples hardened and she could feel the thrum of desire beating an incessant tattoo.
 
“Vincent, touch me. I want your hands on me.”

He tugged her closer still, until their lips met, until the weight of her full breasts were crushed against his chest.
 
His hands roamed her back, savoring the silken texture of her skin, the soft and supple flesh beneath his fingertips.
 
Mapping the indention of her waist and the lush flare of her hips, he seemed to want to go slow, to make it last.
 
Sliding his palms up and over her ribs, he brushed his knuckles lightly against the undersides of her breasts.
 

When she shuddered in response, he smiled against her lips, and then stepped back.
 
Taking her hand, he led her towards the bed.

She reclined against the pillows in the classic pose of a seductress, her dark hair spread out on the pillow. Her sensuality seemed part of her, innate and without guile, and it made her so very different from many of the women of his acquaintance.
  

“I’ve wanted you for so long,” Vincent said, lying down beside her.
 
His hands moved once again to her breasts, kneading the tender flesh.
 
“There are a million reasons why this shouldn’t happen, but I just don’t give a damn.”
 
With the pads of his thumbs, he lightly brushed her nipples.

Her response was a soft, shuddering sigh and the arching of her back, which lifted her breasts more fully into his grasp.

Still teasing one nipple with his thumb, he closed his lips over the other.
 
Laving the hardened bud with his tongue, he savored the taste of her skin, sounds of pleasure escaped her lips.
 
When she was moaning, clutching his shoulders so tightly that her nails bit into his skin, he scored the sensitive nub with his teeth.

She became mindless beneath him, her thighs parting in invitation, her hips arching up, seeking.

Ophelia was on fire.
 
The rush and heat of their earlier coupling had provided its own pleasure, but this slow burn that he’d begun was driving her to the brink and beyond.
 
She felt empty inside, as if she wouldn’t be whole until he was inside her again.
 
Aching for him, she couldn’t stop touching him.
 
Her hands coasted over his shoulders, his back, and down to the waistband of his pants.

Forcing enough of her attention away from her sensitive nipples, the exquisite torment of his skilled fingers and mouth, she managed to free the button and lower the zipper of his pants.
 

His cock was already thick and hard, a single drop of pearly liquid glistening at the tip.
 

Closing her hand around him, she dragged her thumb over the bead that had gathered and circled it delicately.
 
His answering groan prompted her to be bolder.
 
“I want to taste you.”

“Next time,” he said.
 
“I have only so much control, Ophelia.”
 
He continued to lave her breasts, to tease and torment her budded nipples with his mouth, as his hand slid over her belly to the damp curls that shielded her sex.
 
His fingertips grazed lightly over her slit, before parting the slick folds and delving deeper, exploring her welcoming heat.
 

BOOK: Been Loving You Too Long
12.06Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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