Atlanta Heat by Lora Leigh Page B

you are, Em?” He leaned forward, his lips feathering over hers as he touched the firm, rounded globes he dreamed about.
    And he was lost. Simply lost. Oh, hell yes. Clearly more than a handful, topped with cherry-red, spike-hard little nipples and covered with a sprinkling of freckles.
    “Damn, Em. You have paradise right here.” He cupped the generous mounds, his thumbs flicking over the tight nipples. When an involuntary moan left her lips, he swore the sound went straight to his cock, wrapped around it and stroked.

S EVEN
    EMERSON WATCHED IN A daze as Macey’s head lowered, his tongue peeking out to curl around her hard nipple. She swore she nearly orgasmed the moment it touched her.
    Her hips jerked against his, rubbing the hard wedge of his cock against her core as one of his hands caught her wrists and held them over her head.
    “Easy, baby,” he groaned as she writhed beneath him. “Let me have you, Emerson. Just like this.”
    Their moans mingled as he drew her into his mouth and sucked, devoured. His teeth scraped, his tongue lashed, and heated, fiery whips of sensation wrapped around her clit. The tiny bud became more swollen, more sensitive, throbbed and threatened to explode in orgasm.
    “Macey, I can’t stand …” A desperate cry left her throat as the suckling changed, became slower, firmer, his tongue licking her nipple with relish rather than desperation.
    She needed to hold back, but he wouldn’t give her the chance.
    And it was more destructive. So destructive that she was only barely aware of his free hand pushing at his jeans, removing them, then pulling the sweatpants from her hips and pushing them down her thighs before she kicked them from her legs.
    She didn’t care. She knew what was coming, knew and ached for it.
    “You make me crazy,” he groaned, releasing her wrists to cup her breasts, to kiss each nipple and suck it into his mouth in turn until the sensations were ripping through her body, the heat building in her womb and threatening to explode.
    “Oh God. Macey. More. More.” She forced her eyes open, to stare into the near black of his. His cock pressed against the folds of flesh between her thighs and throbbed against her clit.
    “Not yet,” he groaned. “Not yet, baby. Let me feel this. Let’s see how good it can feel.”
    “I can’t stand more,” she protested weakly. She could feel her wetness coating his erection as she tried to move against him, to force him to finish it before he chained her body to his forever.
    “God, you taste sweet,” he muttered, his lips leaving her breasts, stroking down her stomach, parting her thighs. She watched as he lowered his head to the damp curls between her thighs. “Do you taste sweeter here?”
    He didn’t give her time to protest. Confident, hungry, his lips lowered to her clit, his tonguestroked it, and his groan, when it vibrated against her flesh, sent her senses reeling.
    Her thighs fell further open, her hips lifted to him, and Emerson knew nothing had ever felt so good. He knew his way around a woman’s body. Knew where to lick, where to stroke, how to flick his tongue against her narrow opening. How to make her scream and make her beg for him to take her.
    She saw a smile flash across his face, sexy, certain, before his lips covered her clit and he sucked it with slow, torturous draws of his mouth as his tongue flickered around it. Never in the right spot long enough, just enough to tease, to torment, to cause her to writhe and to plead but never enough to throw her over the edge.
    “Macey, it’s too much,” she cried out, her fingers twining in his hair, holding him to her flesh rather than pulling him away as she should have been. “I can’t stand it.”
    “Not enough,” he growled before he licked. “So sweet and hot, Emerson. I need more of you.”
    “Please,” she panted. “I need you now. I can’t wait.”
    “Just a few more minutes, baby,” he crooned before licking lower.
    His hands cupped