He delivered the words in a low growl shifting against her as he spoke. She felt the hard press of his erection against her stomach, and she knew he wanted her too.
His head lowered, and then she let her lashes fall down at the welcome touch of those hard lips on her own.
A sweet fire swept through her, and she reached up to circle her arms around his neck, as she’d needed to do since he walked through the door. It was a feeling of coming home, the sense of all being right with the world as long as she was in his arms.
Vlad gathered her closer, demanding, and gaining entry into her eager mouth. She pressed herself into his rapidly hardening body. She wanted more.
Her arms were already wrapped around his neck so it was a simple matter for him to lift her up onto the center island. Once she was sitting there, he eased the sweatshirt over her head. His lips skated over the skin of her neck then skimmed further down into the V-neck of her T-shirt. The scent of jasmine permeated the cold air and he inhaled deep as he pushed the T-shirt and bra up in one motion and found her breasts.
Sabrina jerked, her breath leaving her body in a whoosh, as he teased the pebbled nipples.
“You smell good, and you taste better,” he said.
Sabrina was incapable of speech. Her body ruled her head—no, Vlad controlled her body and mind; his hot mouth and wicked hands making their way down the taut arch of her torso to the opening of her jeans. She wanted to touch him in turn, but she could only reach his head, so she sank her fingers into the thick hair at his neck and pulled him in to her.
“Patience, little one.” He laughed then and scooped her up into his arms as if she weighed no more than a doll.
Sabrina pressed her face into the side of his neck as they ascended the stairs, hanging onto his broad shoulders, and thought, Yes, give me more.
Then they were in his bedroom dominated by a king-sized bed positioned with a perfect view of the churning sea.
Vlad set her down in the center of the bed and with no fanfare began unbuttoning his shirt. Sabrina thought she could look at the hard planes of his face forever, but soon she couldn’t help lowering her gaze to take in the feast that was Vlad; six-packed, tanned stomach, massive shoulders, and the line of black hair arrowing down the center of his belly to his jeans.
“Stop doing that,” he said, but there was a smile in his voice.
“What?” Her voice was a panicked little squeak.
Was she doing something wrong already?
“Looking at me like I’m your favorite flavor ice cream.”
Oohh, he liked it. Reflexively, she ran her tongue along her lower lip. “Maybe you are.”
“Keep it up and you’ll find out,” he promised.
She bit her bottom lip. “Will there be a taste test?” She smiled back looking up at him from under her lashes.
****
This was outside of his considerable experience with the females he dated, slept with. Sabrina was actually making him smile when he was so turned on he
wondered how he would get his jeans unzipped. He had almost ten years on her and hadn’t had so much fun with a sexy woman since, well, since, ever. Sex had been sex.
He growled and fell on her, stroking that bottom lip with his tongue and set about divesting her of the rest of her clothing.
“I get the first taste,” he said.
He slid a hand into the waistband of her jeans, and he loved that he made her tremble at the stroke of his rough fingers along her belly.
His fingers encountered the lace of her thong and he just about lost it then. He wanted to enjoy the moment, but he didn’t think he would last.
He pulled his hand back trying for some control in a different approach. He took in her bare feet, ponytailed hair and realized he had never seen anything more seductive. Slowly, he slid the jeans down Sabrina’s long legs. He pulled the band from her hair, loosening the silken waves upon the pillows and over her breasts. God, this was no better. He couldn’t slow it down now even if he wanted to. And why should he?
Because she had a quality to her that made him want to cherish the moment. If only he could. He rose up to capture her lips again and he tormented them both with slow drugging kisses. Leisurely, as if his heart wasn’t thudding out of his chest, he tongued a deliberate path down from her ribs to her navel, watching her muscles go taut with each inch he traversed.
She caught her breath on a low sob as if she were trying not to cry out and then, “Vlad, please…” She moaned.
“Please, what little cat?” His tongue and lips were right there, almost there, teasing the skin of her thighs
making little forays onto and under the lace that covered her mound.
“Is there something I can do for you?” He replaced his lips with his hand and reached back up to cover her lips with his own. When her mouth was swollen and red from his kisses, he whispered in her ear.
“Tell me what you want.” It was a demand.
She tossed her head on the pillow, and her skin was hot and ultra-responsive to his touch.
“You know, what I want. Please.” She tormented him with her panting plea.
His fingers scraped along the thin fabric of her thong right at her center, and she bucked upward in reaction.
“Yes, ah, yes, there, yes.” She gasped.
His fingers moved inside the lace, unerringly finding the heart of her, hidden between the wet folds of soft skin.