Free Coming Attractions by Rosie Vanyon Page A

arousal.
The thick length of him spasmed every time her hand drew close, and there was a
tell-tale spot of dampness near the tip. Enjoying his responses, she teasingly
drew her fingers around his belly and down the edges of his jutting hipbones,
across the elastic of his underwear and up and down the arrow of hair between
his navel and the stretch of blue fabric. He hissed and growled and squirmed
under her ministrations.
    “You are going to drive me
completely insane,” he ground out, but he made no move to hurry her or change
her agenda. She could see the pulse leaping at his throat, the desperate bob of
his Adam’s apple, the sheen of sweat glistening on his brow.
    She smiled saccharine sweetly at
him and deliberately brushed her hand over the bulge in his pants.
    “Really?” Cara said. She did it
again. “I’m so sorry...”
    “Funny, Cara, you don’t sound very
sorry.”
    Was he actually panting?
    She quirked an eyebrow, her gaze
all delighted mischief. “It’s hard to be sorry when there’s this tempting
package right in front of me, just begging to be unwrapped.”
    “If you’d like to unwrap it, Cara,
be my guest.”
    “Oh, I’ll unwrap it all right, but
I like to open my presents in my own sweet time. I enjoy prolonging the
anticipation.”
    She scuttled up his body and
swallowed his groan in her mouth from her position beside him. The taste of him
was complex and addictive. His lips were clever and intuitive. His tongue was
thorough and tempting. Cara felt as though she could stay here, kissing like
this, lost in Levi forever.
    But clearly, Levi had other ideas
as he turned further toward her and maneuverered his arm free from under her
shoulders. Once Levi was propped up on one elbow, he was much more dextrous and
she was much more vulnerable to his roaming touch. He was a master of contact, stroking
here, squeezing there, lingering a little, skimming and skirting. He was
setting her on fire with his every caress.
    But two could tangle, she decided.
She had to do something to hold on to her sanity while he drove her body wild, and
her fingers, her palms, her French-painted nails, and the back of her hand all
worked their slow, tantalizing magic on his body. And here and there, her
tongue followed. His breath was utterly shredded, his skin flushed deeply, his
body bathed in perspiration. She could hear his thundering pulse, smell his
animal need. Deliberately, systematically, she tortured his skin, strained his
patience, drove him to the very edge of reason. At last, she sipped her fingers
below the waistband of his jocks and drifted a single fingertip over the dewy
tip of his penis.
    The shudder of pleasure and want
rent his whole body. His teeth were clenched, his eyes screwed shut, the cords
of his neck jutted starkly from his reddened skin, and his knuckles were white
where he fisted the silk sheet.
    “I…can’t…wait…much…longer,” he
ground out. Gruff. Fraught. “I need to be inside you, Cara. Now.”
    In one swift movement, she yanked
his pants down and pulled herself astride him, hovering a hairsbreadth above
his straining cock.
    His eyes were wild like a manic
beast, his control barely leashed. But he did not touch her. Did not take her.
    “Please,” he implored as she
positioned her sex gently against his and held him at her opening with nothing
but the folds between her legs. His penis jumped and bucked against her. She
could feel the damp head slick against her own juicy flesh. But still, he did
not move to seize her. She was awed by his self-mastery.
    Slowly, impossibly slowly, she
eased herself down the impressive length of him, taking him inside the wet heat
of her vagina, drawing him into the tightness, thrilling in the way that he
filled her. Only then did he uncurl his quaking hands from the bedclothes and gentled
them on her hips, half-guiding, half-acceding to the small undulations she
initiated.
    She felt him begin to move against
her. Taking his cue from her