Free Caress Part Three (Arcadia Book 3) by Josie Litton Page A

She hadn’t said a word about the news that her father hadn’t taken
his own life. I had a sinking feeling that the omission meant only one thing:
She was already well aware of that.
    For all that I’d explored every inch of her delectable body,
made her come screaming my name over and over, and spent myself in her with a
fury I’d never experienced or even imagined, Miss Emma Whittaker remained in
some ways impenetrable.
    Damn her.
    And damn the way she was looking at me right then. All huge
blue eyes and moist, parted lips. So exquisite, so tempting. She’d turned my
world upside down. I didn’t regret that, not in the least. But I still had to
right the balance somehow.
    A plan exploded fully formed in my mind, a good indication
that my subconscious had been working on it for a while. It wasn’t a very nice
plan but then I wasn’t feeling remotely nice. More like a guy in a knockdown,
no-holds-bared fight for what mattered most.
    On that score, I had no doubt whatsoever. She needed to
trust me. Totally and irrevocably.
    Why was it so maddeningly hard to get her there?
    I knew all the obvious reasons having to do with her past.
But just then I didn’t give a flying fuck about any of them. I was rock hard,
on a razor sharp edge, and way past desperate.
    I’d spilled my guts to this woman. Opened myself up in a way
that I’d never come close to doing before. I didn’t kid myself; Emma had changed
me irrevocably. There was no going back from her.
    So how did we go forward?
    The answer presented itself all too readily. I would never
hurt her but I would go to any lengths short of that to break through the walls
she’d erected around herself. Even if that meant taking her apart piece by
piece until she forgot any reason she thought she’d had for withholding any
part of herself from me.
    I was totally up for that, in every possible way.
    “Sweetheart,” I said and it was as though I was standing
apart, listening to myself, all smooth and seductive like butter wouldn’t melt
in my mouth. “You seem so tense. What can I do to make you feel better?”
    Seriously, that was the line I was going with? I was a
little embarrassed, to tell the truth. Maybe it really was time to let the
caveman loose.
    “I need you,” Emma said. Her voice was thready, little more
than a whisper. She was flushed, her breathing shallow. Glancing down, I saw
that her nipples were hard.
    Okay, maybe Mister Twenty-first Century did know a thing or
two.
    “Please,” she murmured and incredibly my cock hardened even
further. “I don’t want to think about all this. I just want to forget…to lose
myself.” Her hands trailed down my chest, coming to rest over my groin. Her
fingers traced the bulge of my hard-on as her eyes held mine.
    “Please,” she said again.
    I was in control. Totally. I was going to do exactly what
I’d decided to do. I absolutely was not being played by her.
    “Whatever you want,” I murmured and drew her to me.
    ~~~~~~~~~~~~
    “Lucas!”
    Emma’s voice was partly muffled
by the mattress but I didn’t have any trouble hearing her. All my senses were
attuned to the writhing, panting, magnificent woman under me. I felt every
tremor of her sweet, lithe body, every quivering ripple of her silken skin, every
gasp and moan given up in tribute to what I and I alone could make her feel.
    Damn straight, just me. On that
score at least, the caveman and Mister Twenty-first Century were in full
accord. I owned every nuance of her pleasure the same way I owned her. Or at
least I damn well would. Nothing was going to stand in my way.
    With my finger stroking her
swollen clit and my cock rubbing all along her hot, wet slit, she was so close.
I’d learned all the signs and I had no hesitation about taking full advantage of
that knowledge.
    I brought her to the very edge,
just as the first wave of release started to overtake her. And then I stopped.
Again.
    She cried out in helpless
frustration. “No!”
    Music to my ears.