Atlanta Heat by Lora Leigh Page A

Had any man ever been so desperate to touch her? She knew there hadn’t been.
    She sat up on the couch, her legs between his spread thighs. She lowered her head, the fingers of both hands curling around the heavy shaft as she licked the little bead of creamy liquid from the head of his cock.
    The savage groan that tore from his throat shocked her, excited her. Hands slid into her hair roughly, bunching it and clenching in the strands.
    Fiery bursts of heat spread through her scalp. Her mouth opened, covered the swollen head, and sucked it in. She gloried in the strangled curse that fell from his lips. Her tongue swiped over the tight flesh, curled around it and rubbed the underside, that sensitive little area just beneath the head.
    “Emerson, darlin’.” His voice was rough, thick and heavy with pleasure.
    He was close to the edge. She could tell by the tight length of his cock, the throb of blood beneath the flesh. The fingers of one hand cupped his balls, feeling the taut sac ripple beneath her touch.
    She sucked at him firmly, finding more pleasure in the act than she ever had before. He tasted male, clean and strong, vibrant and aroused. The taste could become addictive.
    As she sucked, her gaze lifted to his again. A moan caught in her chest as his eyes met hers. His lips, so sensually curved, were parted, his strong, white teeth clenched tight.
    “So beautiful,” he groaned hoarsely. “Keep looking at me, Em. God, your eyes are beautiful. Your face. So beautiful. Your mouth so hot, so sweet.”
    Her mouth was filled with his flesh, with the taste of him, the heat of him.
    “Do you know what you do to me, watching me like that? Sucking my dick and staring at me as though you were starving for the taste of me?”
    She felt her face flush, watching the satisfaction that filled his eyes.
    “Such a pretty blush. Such a wicked little mouth.”
    He was fucking that mouth with slow, easy strokes. He wasn’t digging in or trying to ram it down her throat. He wasn’t in a hurry to release. He was letting her enjoy, letting her taste, stroke.
    Pleasure. It was in her eyes. She was drowning in her own pleasure right now, finding joy in touching him, even knowing she might not know the same consideration.
    *   *   *
    L OVE HER HEART, HE was going to eat her alive. He was going to have her screaming in orgasm, have her begging to be fucked, to be taken, possessed before the night was over. He’d take that look out of her eyes once and for all.
    He watched the head of his cock disappear into her mouth once more, bit back a curse as her mouth surrounded it, her tongue stroked it, and she sucked at it with heated hunger. Her moan was another caress, dark, rippling over the sensitive flesh and drawing his balls tighter with the need to come.
    That wasn’t happening. Not yet. Not nearly. First, he’d devour that sweet, sexy little body, those lush, luscious breasts. Oh yeah, he was going to gorge himself on the taste of her breasts and her sweet cherry-red nipples.
    “Enough, baby.” He moved to draw back.
    Panic flared in her eyes; her fingers tightened on the shaft of his dick and had him grimacing with the pleasure-pain of it.
    “Come here, Em.” He reached down, loosened her hands and pressed her back to the couch. “It’s okay, sweetheart. I just want to touch you. Don’t you know how much I need to do that? Just a few minutes, that’s all.”
    Just for the rest of his fucking life. God, the look in her eyes was killing him. Hope mixed with fear. Not the fear of physical pain, but the fear of loss. He knew that fear himself, knew how it hurt to wake up and realize that love had just been a fantasy.
    Long ago, far away, when youth thought it was wise and all-knowing.
    He knew better now. He knew the risk he was taking, the rewards and the possible consequences, just as he knew that he would always regret letting her slip out of his grasp if he didn’t try to find her heart.
    “Do you know how beautiful