A Feast of You (39 page)

I still wore my panties, but they were soaked, and I knew William felt how much I wanted him.

His mouth traced a path from my collarbone to the swell of my breast, came teasing close to my nipple, and traced the other side. I groaned and arched my back.

William laughed huskily. “I survived the flight by imagining what I’d do to you when I had you in bed again.”

“And what did you imagine?”

“It was a long flight.” His molten grey eyes met mine. “It would take me years to show you all of it.”

“Good. I want years with you.”

He palmed my breast again. “But do you know that every single fantasy of mine involved these hard, rosy nipples. Every single fantasy involved me tonguing them.” He flicked the tip of his tongue against my tender flesh, and I moaned.

“Licking them.” He licked then blew cold air, making me shiver and my clit throb.

“Sucking them.” His mouth closed on one hard point, sucking hard, pulling taut that tight cord to my clit.

“William.” The word was a plea.

His hands skated down my body, caressing my curves, and hooking into the straps of my panties. He tugged them down then settled himself between my thighs. His cock pressed against my sex with a pleasant heaviness.

I wrapped my legs around him, but he made no move to enter me. Instead, his mouth slid to my neglected nipple, and he took it into his mouth. His fingers found my slick folds, and he cupped me.

He rose up. “You’re so wet for me.”

“I want you, William. So much.”

“I’m yours.”

His hands grasped mine, and our fingers twined together. His dark gaze met mine as he slid into me, filling me, completing me. With torturous, beautiful slowness, he thrust into me. His eyes never left mine, and in his eyes I could see every single emotion.

Lust. Need. Love.

He made himself completely vulnerable to me, giving me all of himself with each thrust. My hands closed tightly around his as his thrusts deepened and quickened. He knew how to move, his thick cock sliding inside me, his pelvis pressing against my clit. But it wasn’t the act of sex that brought me the most pleasure. It was the look in William’s eyes, the fact that he held nothing back.

I felt him swell, saw the muscle in his jaw flex, and I arched up to meet him. My muscles flexed against him as the climax spiraled through me, warm and sweet. With a low groan, he pulsed inside me.

“Catherine.” His hands tightened, and his grey eyes darkened impossibly.

“I’m yours, William. Always.”

* * *

W
illiam pulled me close, cradling me in his arms, stroking my hair, my back, my arms. It was as though he couldn’t quite believe I was really there beside him. The moment was sweet and tender. Until my stomach rumbled.

I had eaten a full meal with Hutch just a few hours ago, yet I was famished again.

William pulled back, one eyebrow cocked. “I should have fed you dinner before taking you to bed.”

“I had dinner. I can’t believe I’m hungry again.”

Reluctantly, he released me and stood. “How about dessert then? Give me a minute. I’ll grab that pastry bag.” Naked, he padded to the bedroom door.

I had no idea what pastry bag he meant until he opened the door and walked into the living area.

Pastry bag?
The white bag from the pharmacy!

“William—”

“What’s in here?” he called. “A croissant? A macaron?” He walked back into the bedroom, tugging the bag open, and my heart stopped. For a long moment it seemed the whole world stopped. I didn’t breathe. I didn’t move. William stared into the bag and went completely still. When he looked up at me, his eyes were dark and his face was pale.

“Are you serious?” he asked.

“I don’t know.”

In one stride he pulled me into his arms and kissed me hard, taking my breath away. When he released me, he pushed the bag into my hands. “What are you waiting for, beautiful,
beautiful
girl?” he asked with a grin. “Let’s find out.”

S
orcha Grace is an adventurous eater, beach lover and author of scorching contemporary erotic romance. She is also the
nom de plume
of a nationally bestselling author who publishes in another romance genre. Follow her on
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