Free Breath on Embers by Anne Calhoun Page B

voiceless by the steady, swirling pressure of her tongue. “Strong enough to hold you.”
    She gave a little hum that vibrated through his cock, and her stance widened. He loved the involuntary movements that showed him exactly how turned on she was. Spreading her legs a little more, tipping her ass back like he was behind her, ready to plunge in...
    “That’s enough,” he said. She blinked in surprise, her mouth wet and soft. “Come here.”
    He pulled her up to straddle him on the chaise. Her breasts rose and fell with her soft, panting breaths as she worked to get air into her confined ribcage. “Ronan, take this off,” she pleaded.
    “Not yet,” he said ruthlessly. The sight of her astride him, poised and ready to take him stripped away what was left of his nice guy veneer. He held his cock away from his abdomen, at the right angle to slide into her, put his thumb in her hip crease and gripped the soft flesh of her ass with his fingers.
    When his tortured, straining erection found wet heat, she resisted. “Ronan,” she said quietly.
    Reality slapped him hard. No condom. “I don’t have one,” he said, a shocking lapse on his part.
    “I’m on the pill,” she said. “I haven’t had sex with anyone since Jesse except you.”
    “I’m safe,” he said. That was all he could manage. His throat was vibrating too hard to get out a sensible explanation involving annual checkups, blood tests and the good, old-fashioned common sense that dictated condom use.
    Until now.
    She lifted one hand from the back of the chaise and tucked her hair behind her ear. The move was so sweet and endearing Ronan’s heart stuttered in his chest. Her hand paused at the curve of her jaw, and she held his gaze as she slowly, so fucking slowly sank down onto his cock. Helpless against the onslaught, his eyes closed, the better to feel her slick, swollen walls give way for him, the clinging heat engulf him millimeter by millimeter until there was no him, no her, just them.

Chapter Five
    Nothing like the loss of something absolutely crucial for survival to focus her attention on the present.
    It was the tightly laced corset limiting her air that made her sound so breathless, so little girl-ish, or perhaps the thought of wearing this innocent little outfit with ribbons binding her hands as she obeyed Ronan’s explicit, erotic commands. It was the atmosphere in Idylle, soundless, beautifully lit, unambiguously sexual without being the slightest bit tawdry. The message was crystal clear. Sex was part of the human experience, and what you wear next to your skin could be sensuous, luxurious and a moment-by-moment reminder of pleasure.
    It was not watching pleasure surge across Ronan’s face as she took him, skin to skin, into her body.
    Don’t make this more than it is. You’ve had unprotected sex before. It’s not a declaration of trust, a demonstration of vulnerability. It’s no big deal. It doesn’t mean anything. It’s just Ronan.
    It’s Ronan.
    She let the thought drop into the void and turned to the matter at hand. “I don’t think you saw that,” she said innocently.
    His brilliant blue eyes opened and became the brightest spark of color in the muted room. “You’re right.”
    Something in his rough, masculine tone made her clench around him. “Should I do it again?” she asked, continuing with the subtly submissive theme.
    “Yes.”
    She lifted herself, the thick drag of his cock against her sensitized inner walls a torment, then paused when he was just outside her. She had one hand braced on the back of the chaise, the other tangled in her hair as she turned to look over her shoulder. The frankly carnal image made breathing even harder than before. To avoid passing out she turned back and watched him watch her take him deep. Red flags stood high on his cheekbones, and dark stubble covered his lower face. Utterly absorbed as he was in the graphic mirror-show, he looked hard, ruthless and hot as hell.
    Once again he