“I have not seen you before, sweetling,” he whispered into her ear. Leaning down, he smoothed the hair from the side of her face with his own and then touched his tongue to the edge of her ear. “What is your name?”
He felt the shivers travel through her as his mouth tickled her ear. Smiling, he bent down and kissed her neck, tracing the muscle there down to her shoulder with tip of his tongue. Connor bit the spot gently, teasing it with his teeth and soothing it with his tongue. “Your name?” he asked again.
She arched then, clearly enjoying his touch and ready for more. Her head fell back against his shoulder and he moved his mouth to the soft skin there, kissing and licking his way down and back to her ear. Still she had not spoken.
“When I call out my pleasure, sweetling, what name will I speak?”
He released her shoulders and slid his hands down her arms and then over her stomach to hold her in complete contact with him. Covering her stomach and pressing her to him, he rubbed against her back, letting her feel the extent of his erection—hard and large and ready to pleasure her. Connor moved his hands up to take her breasts in his grasp. Rubbing his thumbs over their tips and teasing them to tightness, he no longer asked, he demanded.
“Tell me your name.”
He felt her breasts swell in his hands and he tugged now on the distended nipples, enjoying the feel and imagining them in his mouth, as he sucked hard on them and as she screamed out her pleasure But nothing cold have pleased him more in that moment then the way she gasped at each stroke he made, over and over until she moaned out her name to him.
“Moira.”
“Moira,” he repeated slowly, drawing her name out until it was a wish in the air around them. “Moira,” he said again as he untied the laces on her bodice and slid it down her shoulders until he could touch her skin. “Moira,” he now moaned as the heat and the scent of her enticed him as much as his own scent was pulling her under this control.
Connor paused for a moment, releasing her long enough to drag his tunic over his head and then turning her into his embrace. He inhaled sharply as her skin touched his, the heat of it seared into his soul as the tightened peaks of her breasts pressed against his chest. Her added height brought her hips level almost to his and he rubbed his hardened cock against her stomach, letting her feel the extent of his arousal.
As he pushed her hair back off her shoulders, he realized that in addition to the raging lust in his blood, there was something else there, teasing him with its presence.
Anticipation.
For the first time in years, this felt like more than the mindless rutting that happened between him and the countless, nameless women there for his needs. For the first time in too long, this was not simply scratching an itch, for the hint of something more seemed to stand off in the distance, something tantalizing and unknown and something tied to this woman.
He lifted her chin with his finger, forcing her gaze off the blasted chair and onto his face. Instead of the compliant gaze he that usually met him, the clarity of her gold-flecked green eyes startled him. Connor did something he’d not done before, something he never needed to do—he asked her permission.
“I want you, Moira,” he whispered, dipping to touch and taste her lips for the first time. Connor slid his hand down to gather up her skirts, baring her legs and the treasure between them to his touch and his sight. “Let me?”
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Copyright © 2009 Shelly Laurenston
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ISBN: 978-0-7582-4968-5
The Mane Squeeze Page 38
