Atlanta Heat by Lora Leigh

snare, and he knew it. A pleasure unlike any other that he had known in his life. For the first time, he could feel his lover’s pleasure as well as his own, and he was trapped within it. He wasn’t touching, stroking, giving pleasure in the hopes of having that pleasure returned. Hell no. Hearing her pleasure, feeling her tremble with it, the sound of it echoing in her shaking moan, that was pleasure.
    He stroked his tongue over Emerson’s lips, felt them tremble as he took another short, drugging kiss. He let his hands move over her shoulders as he tried to sate himself with the sweetness of her lips and her inquisitive little tongue.
    But there was no sating himself and he knew it. Had known it since that first kiss.
    “Come here, Em.” He lowered her to the couch as her velvety hazel green eyes opened and she stared back at him with pleasure.
    “Macey.” She licked her lips, and he followed suit.
    He let his tongue run over them before taking another hard, quick taste of her.
    “Don’t think, baby,” he whispered. “Let me touch you. Have you. Don’t you know I’d beg for just another taste?”
    “Macey.” She blinked drowsily, sensually, her hands fluttering to his shoulders. He watched the hunger overcome the hesitancy in her eyes. “Why?”
    “Because I can’t fight it any longer.”
    “But you’ll break my heart.” He heard her breath hitch as his lips became distracted by the long, slim line of her neck. “You know you’re going to break my heart.”
    He jerked his head up, his eyes narrowing on hers. “I take care of what’s mine, Emerson. Every part of it. And whether you end up liking it or not, sweetheart, you’re mine.”
    Her arms curved around his neck, and he set out to mark his territory. The primal need to possess had him by the balls now, and he had a feeling it wasn’t going to release him anytime soon.
    As his hand flattened beneath her shirt on the bare flesh of her stomach, a moan slipped past Emerson’s lips into the kiss he was stealing from her soul. Callousedand warm, the tips of his fingers stroking her flesh had her nerve endings howling in pleasure.
    They strained together, hips arching, bearing down, the thick length of his cock pressed against her saturated core as her hands curved around his back, her nails digging into the material of his shirt.
    It wasn’t enough, she needed to touch his flesh, needed to feel it against her. She tore at the cloth, tugging it upward to his shoulders, revealing the tough skin and hard muscles of his back. Pleasure whipped through her palms as she stroked his flesh and felt him tense tighter against her.
    “Get naked,” he growled, tearing his lips from hers, lifting just enough to jerk his shirt from his body, then her shirt followed. A dark, almost black patch of chest hair arrowed along his hard abs and into the band of his jeans.
    Her hands tore at the belt cinching his waist, pulling it free as his hands worked on the metal snap and zipper.
    She tugged at the material, pulling it over his hips with one hand as she parted the front edges, pulled the snug boxer briefs from the thick length of flesh it covered and felt her mouth go dry.
    His cock was so hard and the skin stretched so tight it appeared painful. Heavy veins throbbed in hungry demand and the wide, dark crest pulsed with a heartbeat all its own, pushing a silky pearlescent bead of pre-cum from the narrow slit.
    “Oh God, Macey,” she whispered, desperation coloring her voice as she held the heavy flesh, stroking it, her pussy clenching at the thought of accommodating it.
    She lifted her eyes along his tight abs, his heaving chest, to meet his dark eyes. He watched her as well, his expression tight, honed with hungry lust as she stroked the length of his erection.
    “I want to taste you,” she whispered. “All of you.”
    “For God’s sake, hurry,” he groaned. “If I don’t touch you, taste more of you, it might kill me.”
    She wanted to smile at that.