Читать книгу The Wedding Secret - Michele Dunaway - Страница 13

The man could kiss. Oh, maybe it was because she couldn’t remember the last time she’d been kissed like this, but Cecile didn’t think so. Luke Shaw was simply the master. He pressed her shoulders up against the plate-glass window and plundered her mouth like an experienced sexual pirate.

She heard herself moan as he raked his teeth across her tongue, felt herself shake as his hands gripped her buttocks and drew her lower half forward so that her body molded to his.

He ran his tongue over her lips, teasing and cajoling. His lips lingered, pleasuring her with an endless kiss that robbed her senses. Time stopped as Cecile simply let herself enjoy. Then he slid his lips to the side, over her cheek and over to her right ear. “Follow me,” he said.

At this moment she might let him lead her anywhere, but he led her upstairs into his bedroom. Here again he had floor-to-ceiling windows but this time with a western view. He left the lamps off, undressing her in the muted glow of the city lights coming through the sheers.

He unzipped the purple dress and let the offensive garment pool at her feet. Lowering his lips, he kissed his way over the skin he’d exposed. He suckled her through her bra, and when she cried out with pleasure, he unhooked the purple lace and tossed it away. Then he replaced his mouth and danced his tongue over her sensitive peaks.

“You are so beautiful,” he told her. And unlike other men who’d said that line, with Luke she believed. He raised his hands to remove the pins in her hair and sent the updo tumbling down. The strands cascaded to the tops of her breasts, and he lifted a lock to his lips. “I love this color. So fiery and lovely against your skin.”

And then he kissed her neck before he began to work his way lower. All Cecile could do was let the pleasure wash over her in waves. She reached for him, but Luke brushed her hands away. “Enjoy,” he commanded, and as he stripped away her matching purple underwear and lowered himself to his knees, she simply obeyed his instructions as the bliss began.

She clutched the top of his head for support as pleasure rocked her, and then finally he was standing, kissing her mouth and carrying her to his bed. He threw the coverlet aside and placed her on the soft sheets. His fingers were everywhere, and Cecile groaned as he spread her legs and worked her into frenzy. Then he removed his own clothes, freeing a part of him that strained for attention. He was a big man and perfectly proportionate. He protected himself, leaned over her and slid inside.

“Oh,” Cecile said as her body adjusted to his presence. He fit her well, and she quivered as the first of her releases began. He stroked easily, sending her into multiple valleys and crests, each one exponentially more pleasurable than the rest. He kissed her eyelids, kissed her lips, kissed her breasts. He slid in and out, his body matching her rhythm until he shattered them both in a climax unlike any Cecile had experienced.

She’d never been so satiated. She and Tori had often complained to each other that after lovemaking the woman was often still so wired that she felt like she could go outside and run a marathon. But not this time. Not with Luke.

The man could dance. He could make love. Both superbly. He drew her into his arms, and her body rested, spent and totally fulfilled.

“Good?” he asked.

“Phenomenal,” she told him, and then her eyes began to close.

“I’m glad. I’ll be back in a second. Just rest.”

She heard him enter the bathroom, and within moments he’d returned and curled her to his side as if she had belonged there forever. She decided she liked it and, within moments, drifted away.

ONCE HE WAS SURE she was sleeping, Luke slipped from the bed to retrieve her suitcase. She’d want it in the morning.