Free Aftershock by Desiree Holt

neck. “Every time I’m near you, my cock gets so hard I’m afraid if I bump into something it’ll break off.”
    “I don’t—”
    “Don’t what?” He brushed the flat of his tongue across her bottom lip.
    “The tour. The agency.” She wanted so much to be sensible. But not as much as she wanted him. Still, some shred of sanity told her to make at least a token protest.
    “They aren’t here with us tonight.” He licked the shell of one ear. “Tonight it’s just Syd and Rick. No one else.” His breath whispered over her mouth. “Tomorrow we’ll worry about the agency and the tour. And everything else. Tonight this is what I want to think about. Because I want you more than I want to breathe.”
    She could feel the swollen length of his thick erection pressing against her through his jeans. His chest was a hard wall of muscle against her breasts that ached for his touch and her nipples, so hard they were painful. His hands and his mouth coaxed sensation from her.
    I want this .
    “O-okay.”
    He cupped her chin. “Which way?”
    Sydney didn’t pretend not to understand. “Upstairs. Second door.”
    He swept her up in his arms as if she weighed nothing and took the stairs two at a time. She wrapped her arms around him and nuzzled her face against his neck. Whatever earthy aftershave he wore invaded her senses and ramped up her awareness of him, if that was even possible. Nudging the door open with his foot, he carried her over to the bed and set her on her feet. As if he had the layout memorized, he reached over and snapped on the bedside lamp. Then he just stood and looked at her. The heat in his eyes scorched her skin.
    “There’s no going back,” he said, but in his eyes it was a question not a statement.
    “No going back,” she agreed, as butterflies beat their wings in her stomach.
    “Not tonight, anyway.”
    She nodded and clenched her unsteady hands into fists. Hands that trembled from the unnamed emotion that tried its best to bull its way up from deep inside her.
    “Not tonight,” she said in a voice so soft she could barely hear herself.
    “All right, then.”
    With a gentleness that belied the visible tension in his body, he unknotted the tails of the blouse at her waist and eased the fabric down her shoulders. Next came the tank. The soft material whispered against her body as he drew it over her head and tossed it to join the blouse. Although she still wore her bra, she was seized with an unexpected desire to cover herself.
    “Uh uh,” he said, as if he could read her mind. “I want to see everything.”
    Cupping her breasts in his large palms, he bent to take a nipple into his mouth, fabric and all. The bud tightened and puckered beneath the thin satin. Heat shot straight to her pussy, as if propelled by an arrow, and moisture flooded her bikini panties.
    Rick’s hand gently kneaded her other breast. His thumb rasped over the taut point. Sydney had to grip his shoulders to hold herself steady as need and desire surged through her in a hot, erotic flood. Her body shook with the force of it. His touch was so incendiary that fire erupted low in her belly and spread to every nerve and pulse point.
    He teased her breasts mercilessly, until her knees were weak and she could barely stand. Lifting his head, he brushed his mouth over hers. With the tip of his tongue, he drew tiny circles at each corner of her lips then followed the seam, a slow lick that was as arousing as any other touch. He nipped at her lips, gentle bites he soothed with his tongue before slipping it onto her mouth again. As he slicked his tongue over hers, coaxing it to an erotic dance, he reached for the button on her jeans. Pop!   Then the slow glide of the zipper, a soft rasp in the heated silence of the room. He eased the fabric down her hips to fall at her ankles and dropped his gaze to the triangle of pink silk covering her mound. One hand slid deliberately down her belly to cup her through the fabric of the