All Tucked In.... Jule McBride
fingers of his hands glided up her rib cage.
“Touch me,” she urged as the pads of those practiced fingers teased her, lingering just beneath breasts she wanted him to cup and knead. She wanted him so badly. Shutting her eyes tightly, she rode the sensation wrought by the kiss, and she dreamed about the coming minutes, when he’d be inside her, stretching and filling her.
And then the magic came. As he captured her mouth more firmly, locking his lips tightly over hers, he closed both his huge hands over her breasts. Using his thumbs, he circled the already taut peaks, roughing the tips, making then tighten even more. As he pushed her toward the edge, she moved her hips, cradling his as she rocked against him, making him moan.
He was still dressed, and as a blaze of fire raced over her, she damned the jeans that covered his lower half. Reaching a hand between their bodies, she continued kissing him, thrusting her tongue deeply as she slid a hand downward, then over the hard ridge beneath his fly. He was so long…so thick. Her heart hammered.
“Yes…yes,” he panted.
“You’re so ready,” she whispered between kisses. So painfully, deliciously hard. Pushing out her chest, she offered her aroused nipples, and she could only suck in a quick gasp of longing and gratitude when he leaned back and angled his head downward. When the assault of his mouth began, she was totally lost. Blackness crowded into her mind, and she had no choice but to lean back her head in surrender. Over and over, she thrust her breasts for him…
He was panting softly. He gasped when her hand flexed on his jeans, closing firmly around his length. Sliding along the shaft, she explored every hot inch. Her thumb massaged ridges, her fingers, the head. She missed Tobias so much, she thought as she stroked him. Why hadn’t she married him? Why had she run like a fool? What the hell was she scared of? “I’ve needed you,” she moaned. “Needed this.” He was supposed to be hers forever. Her husband, her lover. The man who shared her bed every night, and to whom she awakened every morning.
He was still swirling his tongue, the sensations unbearable. Just like she remembered…but better. Yes, so much better, she thought illogically, as his mouth closed hard on a bud. His tongue flicked the nipple like a vibrator, then he suckled deep, pulling the excited tip into his mouth until it seemed to rest against the pure wet silk of his cheek.
She was wet elsewhere, too. Shamelessly, she’d melted. She was dripping, her hips arched and begging. Her hand closed more tightly over him, feeling every inch of hot steel through the silken worn denim. Somehow, her shaking fingers pulled down the zipper, freeing him. Quickly, she pushed down his pants.
And then the jeans were gone. Suddenly, he was naked. She didn’t know how he got that way, only that the dream fast-forwarded, and now he was standing before her without a stitch of clothes. He looked like a god. She’d forgotten how incredibly endowed he was. And how incredibly handsome. Or maybe she’d wanted to forget. Because if she’d remembered, she’d have had no choice but to drop everything and run to wherever he was. She would have begged him to forgive her for leaving him at the altar, just as he’d forgiven her in this dream. She would have asked him to please take off his clothes and let her…
Her eyes dropped hungrily. Time stopped as she took in every inch of a male body that just wouldn’t quit. The male nipples were tight, like hers. The broad chest was covered in a tangle of yellow-gold silken hair that tapered, narrowed, and arrowed down to…
She shuddered as her eyes settled, then she slowly took in each nuance. He sprung from a nest of impossibly soft-looking curls—so big, so hard, so ready. A pinkened head was tipped by moisture, the shaft covered with ridges that promised to take her to a climax she’d never forget. Her mouth went dry, but only for an instant because he quickly leaned in for a kiss. His mouth, already wet, slammed hers….
And the image vanished. In a poof, it simply disappeared, and they were lying on a bed of grass so soft that it could have been velvet, or the silken strands of a mermaid’s hair. They were shuddering and shaking, their skin damp, and Tobias was hovering over her. He raised himself on an elbow as he slid a hand between her legs saying, “You feel so good.”
Whimpering, she cried out. “Oh, yes…please.”
He’d been preparing her, making sure she was ready before he entered her, but now he paused to glide his hand over her folds. Using a finger, he opened the slit. “Oh,” he moaned, his voice rough with need. “You’re so wet.”
She said nothing. She couldn’t, not when he parted her once more, thrusting a finger deep inside her. Then another. But it wasn’t enough. Her skin was glazed with heat, her mouth dry from panting. She wanted more. Him…inside her, not this maddening, teasing, thoroughly annoying finger that kept thrusting and withdrawing, then lazily traced circles over her clitoris. “No wonder I didn’t marry you,” she muttered in hopeless frustration.
He merely laughed. “Bothersome, aren’t I?”
And how! Arching, she felt the fire inside her gather force. It was out of control. She was burning up! Every inch of her burned. Deep inside, she was aching. His thrusting finger seemed to touch her womb!
He had to stop.
Senseless words tumbled from her lips. She was begging him. But he wasn’t going to stop, of course. No more than she was going to stop her own hand, which found his silken length once more and stroked until he gasped. “Tit for tat,” she whispered, wanting him to give up…to make love to her, properly. I want you inside me, she thought. I need…
Please.
His finger was too much. She exploded. The sweet spasms of release were still rocking her when he knelt between her legs. Hot and smooth, the tip nudged her opening. She parted instantly, and he slid inside, each ridge pushing her back toward the edge she’d just visited. Yes. She was going to come again. Tobias was going to make her come and come, and never stop coming.
She closed around each thick inch as he pushed. Each glorious ridge caught on the insides of her slick tunnel, until he’d tossed her off a cliff, into a blissful state of joy she’d never imagined existed, not even with him…
And then she was simply riding him, moving and shaking, her legs wrapped tight around his waist. Her full breasts were bouncing, the taut tips brushing the silken hairs of his chest. He was loving every second, too. Shuddering, he curled his hands on her backside, his fingers stroking as he urged her up and down…
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