Because You Are Mine (Because You Are Mine #1)(28)
Author: Beth Kery

“Oh, and Francesca?” Ian asked, not looking up from his computer screen.

“Yes?” she asked, lifting her finger from the control button.

“Take off your clothes, please.”

For several seconds, she just stared. Her heartbeat began to throb in her ears. Perhaps he’d noticed her frozen state, because he glanced up, his expression calm. Expectant.

“You can put the blanket on while you sleep,” he said.

“Then why do you want me to take off my clothes, if I’m going to be covered up, anyway?” she blurted out, confused.

“I’d like to know you’re available to me.”

Liquid heat surged through her sex. God help me. She must be as much of a sexual deviant as Ian was, to respond so wholly to a few uttered words.

Slowly, she rose on trembling legs and began to strip.

* * *

He hit the Send button on his computer, zooming off a detailed memo to his senior staff. For the fiftieth time in the past five minutes, he glanced over at the outline of the shapely feminine form curled beneath the blanket. The tiny, even rise and fall of the cover told him she still rested soundly. He could have guessed within seconds the precise moment Francesca had finally succumbed to sleep about five hours ago. He was that aware of her. If he was having trouble concentrating—if he suffered—he could blame no one but himself. He’d been the one to insist she take off her clothes. He’d been the one to sit and stare, hypnotized, as she’d removed item after item, while his mouth went bone-dry and his heartbeat began to throb along the shaft of his cock.

Every time he recalled her lowered gaze and pink cheeks, her long, glorious hair swishing next to her narrow waist, her bare, thrusting breasts and luscious, fat nipples, legs that could make a man weep they were so long, shapely, and supple—and worst of all—the soft-looking, red-tinted, golden hair at the juncture of her thighs, the amount of it sparse enough so that he could clearly see her plump labia and slit, the blood began to pound fiercely again in his cock. Since he was thinking of the vision constantly, he’d pretty much sustained an erection for the past five hours.

It would be hell not to touch her until tonight, but he’d promised himself he’d make this experience as special for her as he could.

An even worse torture would be to touch and not take her.

He whipped off his glasses and stood.

It would be a delicious torture. And he was used to suffering.

He lowered onto the seat next to her. She lay on her side, facing him, her face still and lovely in repose. Her lips were a shade deeper in color than their usual lush pink hue. His cock leapt against the restraining fabric of his boxer briefs. Was she, by chance, aroused as she slept?

He grabbed the blanket at her shoulder and gently, slowly lowered it all the way to her knees, teasing himself as her splendor was fully revealed inch by tantalizing inch. He smiled to himself when he saw that her nipples were, indeed, puckered and tight. What sorts of erotic journeys did an innocent like Francesca take in her sleep? His gaze flickered and stuck on the trim, strawberry-blond thatch of hair between her white thighs. Was that moisture gleaming in the slit? Surely it was his imagination . . . wishful thinking after hours of torturous arousal.

He spread his hand over the smooth expanse of her flat belly. She said that she’d been overweight as a child, but he could see no evidence of it. Losing the weight so young must have saved her from stretch marks. Her skin looked flawless. She shifted slightly in her sleep, her face tightening momentarily, before she sighed and sunk back into slumber. His hand lowered across her satiny, warm skin. He reached, sliding his finger into that silky hair, burrowing it between those sex lips that had been haunting him night after night.

He grunted in satisfaction. It hadn’t been his imagination. Her juices coated his finger. He moved, finding her clit, teasing it with his fingertip, calling her to him from the realms of her dreams. He spread his hand for a moment over her outer sex, arousal stabbing at his cock. Things were warm, wet, and divine in the crevice.

His gaze was on her face when she opened her eyes. For a second, they just stared at each other as he stimulated her clit with his finger. He watched as fresh color rushed into her cheeks and full lips.

“Is this what you wanted me available for?” she muttered, her voice low and thick with sleep.

“Perhaps. I can’t stop thinking about your pussy. I’m looking forward to spending as much time as possible buried in it.” He flicked her clit with extra pressure, and watched, fascinated, as she gasped and bit her fleshy lower lip. Christ. He was going to kill himself feasting on her. She was a never-ending orgy of delight all encapsulated in one gorgeous, fascinating woman.

“Roll onto your back,” he said, his finger still plucking and stroking between her creamy labia, his gaze intent on her face as he tightly examined her subtle reactions to his manipulations, gauging her . . . learning her. His hand moved with her as she lay on her back. “Now spread your legs. I want to look at you,” he instructed gruffly.

She widened her slender thighs. His gaze fixed between her legs, he reached for the control panel, lowering the footrest of her recliner. He knelt before her, his body between her spread knees. He removed his hand and stared at her sex, utterly spellbound.

“I usually ask women to shave for me,” he said. “It increases the sensitivity. Makes a woman totally available to me.”

“Is that what you’d like me to do?” she asked. His gaze zoomed up to her face. Her dark, velvety eyes shone with arousal.

“I don’t want you to change a thing. You have the prettiest pussy I’ve ever seen. I may be demanding, but even I know better than to mess with perfection.”

Her throat convulsed as she swallowed. He reached and used his fingers to widen her sex lips, exposing glistening dark pink folds and the tiny slick opening to her vagina. His cock lurched viciously, knowing precisely where it wanted to be at that moment. He longed to push his tongue into that hole as well, to have her juices sliding down his throat. He craved it.

But if he tasted her, he’d take her, there and now. That was a certainty.

He reluctantly rose and sat again next to her on the wide seat of the lounger. He leaned down and kissed her parted lips lightly as he resumed stroking her clit.

“Does this feel good?” he asked, his gaze running over her flushed face.

“Yes,” she whispered, the fervency of her response convincing him as much as her pink-stained lips, cheeks, and heaving breasts. He flicked at her clit, giving it a rapid, gentle, back-and-forth lashing with the ridge of his forefinger. She gasped, and he smiled. She was so wet that he could hear himself moving in her creamy flesh.