Free Hunting Medusa: The Medusa Trilogy, Book 1 by Elizabeth Andrews Page B

her mouth tingle.
    Cautiously, she perched on the edge of the bed at his side.
    “I promise I won’t touch.” His gaze never left her lips.
    Andi bent toward him, hearing his breathing quicken. Under hers, his lips parted easily, and his tongue slid along her lower lip before dipping into her mouth, nudging her own.
    Another blast of heat exploded in her belly.
    “Touch me again,” he whispered, nipping at her lower lip. “I want your hands on me, Andrea. I want to be inside you.”
    Common sense tried to rear its head. He was contained. He couldn’t free himself—at least, not without some effort, and she could be long gone by then.
    But her body still ached. Surely she had a little time… She lifted one hand to stroke down the center of his chest, following the thin line of dark hair on his abdomen to the erection that still stood tall, beckoning her.
    “Or your mouth.”
    Her mouth watered at the thought, and she unconsciously licked her lower lip.
    “Please.”
    It was the pleading. That was all. She bent to kiss his chest again, her mouth following the path her hand had just taken, slowly working her way to his groin. His musky scent called to her, enhancing her need—increasing it. When she finally opened her mouth over the tip of his cock, her inner thighs were wet with her desire. She ignored that for now, concentrating on the taste of him.
    He was delicious, salty and musky, and all male. She took him deep, then retreated to lick her way around the thick shaft, hearing his groans and the soft words of encouragement he offered.
    And when his body tightened, she felt a rush of excitement. His pleasure was entirely in her hands. Or mouth.
    “Andrea.”
    She glanced up at him, sucking lightly on his cock.
    “Goddess,” he ground out. “I want to be inside you. Please let me come inside you.”
    A dark flush rode his cheeks, his chest rose and fell rapidly, and his eyes were a deep dark green, full of desire.
    She released his erection reluctantly—allowing herself one last lick over the head, which made him jerk toward her—and straddled him once more, this time with his cock standing up in front of her.
    She met his gaze, and her heart beat faster yet at the things she saw there. The desire. The promise of incredible pleasure.
    “Take me in.”
    She couldn’t resist. She lifted her hips and caught her breath at the first touch of his cock in her wet folds.
    “So hot and wet,” he murmured. “For me.” His accent deepened, his whisper guttural and rough. “Slide down, Andrea.”
    She hesitated, torn between wanting to impale herself on him and wanting to draw the moment out just a little longer.
    His hips lifted, wedging him a tiny bit deeper.
    “Oh.” She shut her eyes and braced her hands low on his ribs.
    “Take it.”
    She started to ease down, feeling him stretch her sheath with every increment of every inch, her body clenching around him already. “Oh Gods,” she moaned.
    He jerked his hips upward again, forcing his way in—to the root—and she cried out in pleasure and surprise. “Don’t move,” he ordered.
    Andi wanted to move. Very badly. Her thighs quivered with the need to move. Her release was so close. Oh Gods, so close.
    “Touch yourself.”
    Her gaze flew upward to meet his.
    “Like you did in the shower this morning.”
    Heat burned her cheeks, both desire and embarrassment.
    “Show me.”
    She gulped in some air and lifted her hands to her breasts, cupping and stroking them lightly.
    “Are you imagining my hands?”
    She nodded.
    “Did you imagine me this morning?”
    “Yes.” She stroked harder, pinching and twisting her nipples. Her sheath tightened on his erection, and she wanted to move. More than she wanted her next breath.
    But she resisted.
    She stroked and caressed her swollen breasts under his dangerous gaze, until she had to drop one hand to her clit. The hard little bundle of nerves throbbed, and when she brushed a fingertip over it, her hips