Free Second Chances by Kathy Ivan

holding her in place as he ran his lips along the curve of her jaw line, licking down the line of her neck instinctively going to the place between her shoulder to behind the bottom edge of her ear. 
    "Ryan . . ."  Her sharp gasp of indrawn breath made him smile. He loved the little noises she made when need spiraled within her, the way her body writhed beneath him in pleasure with every nibble and long lick as he stroked and tasted her sweetness.   The salty sweet taste of his woman never failed to drive his desire higher and higher, unique and spicy with an underlying hint of honey. 
    The special fragrance that was hers and hers alone filled his senses.  Vanilla and jasmine and woman, a potent combination.  No manufactured perfume could match her scent.
    She bucked beneath squirming against the mattress, arching upward as his lips trailed across the mound of her breast, and he caught the edge of her bra in his teeth before pulling it down beneath the nipple.  Its fullness thrust upward toward his questing tongue.  He swirled and suckled, lapping at the pointed nubbin of exposed flesh, watched it harden with desire, its rosy hue darkening.  Her whimpering moan beneath him evidence her body enjoyed the ministrations of his lips and teeth. 
    "Now!" 
    "Shh, baby."  Ryan whispered against her skin.  "Let me take care of you."  How could I love this woman any more?  I’d die without her. 
    With his free hand, his fingers unsnapped the front closure of the scrap of lacy fabric, sliding it down her arms and he tossed it over his shoulder, exposing both breasts to his questing hand and lips.  Her body jolted and rocked under his as he kissed his way downward.  Releasing her hands with an admonition to keep them above her head his fingers trailed across her stomach and his head rose to look at the perfect petals of the rose tattoo on her hip.  He remembered the day she’d had it done as a surprise for him.  Remembered, too, the wild passionate night they’d spent afterward, celebrating her newly acquired decoration. 
    Thumbs hooked in the edges of the thong riding low on her hips.   A forceful tug tore the tiny scrap of fabric from her, revealed her completely nude form to his hungry gaze.  Had he ever seen a more beautiful site?   To him, no one else compared. 
    Long red-gold hair spread across the pillow as she undulated beneath him, her back arching off the mattress.  His fingertips lightly brushed against her thighs and she opened for him, spreading like her namesake flower.  The back of his fingers slid along the exposed flesh of her inner thighs, massaged gently downward yet never touched where he most wanted to touch, savoring the moment and prolonging her excitement.  The musky scent of her arousal perfumed the air, hardening him to the point of exploding.  He steeled himself, forcing himself to go slower, make this last.  Make it special.  Make it the most memorable moment in her life.  
     His hands encircled her ankles, pulled them upward until her knees bent, legs spread wide.  Moving upward, he leaned in, inhaled the scent of her arousal.  She was wet, ready for him, yet he still hesitated, wanting—needing—to prolong the pleasure.  He wished it were possible to freeze time, make this moment last forever.  There was a tightness in his chest as if his heart, his very life, was being ripped asunder and he realized it could never be.  He only had this one night, this one last chance to make memories to last for all eternity. 
    Gently he stroked one finger through the dampness of her folds, the heat and creamy wetness nearly his undoing.  A brief flick of her clit with his thumb before he pulled her slick folds apart and blew a warm breath softly against her heated flesh.  A muffled scream sounded from above him.  He chuckled, the vibrations of his laugh eliciting yet another moan.  He planned to be thorough; she was a screamer and he meant to hear his name yelled before the