How to Trap a Tycoon(44)
Author: Elizabeth Bevarly

The fingers pressed against her moved again, slowly, gently, almost imperceptibly, two of them enclosing that most sensitive part of her, one of them reaching lower, to softly penetrate her. Dorsey’s eyes fluttered closed at the keenness of the sensation, and her mouth fell open in an effort to draw in more air. Adam’s fingers moved again, backward, forward, gliding effortlessly, insistently, through her slick heat.

"Oh, Adam…" she whispered. "Oh, that feels so… Oh…"

She heard his rough chuckle but couldn’t quite bring herself to open her eyes. Because what she was feeling was quite unlike anything she had ever felt before, and she was reasonably certain that she didn’t want it to end just yet. Which was good, because he showed no sign of ceasing his actions anytime soon. And with each eager, capable motion of his fingers, Dorsey fell back a bit more until her head lay cushioned on the sofa arm and her body lay open to Adam’s onslaught.

Vaguely, she registered the removal of her trousers and her panties, her socks and her shoes. Vaguely, she sensed Adam removing some of his own clothing, as well. Vaguely, she felt him shove a throw pillow beneath her hips. And vaguely, she sensed him drawing near again. But there was nothing vague about her response when, instead of returning his fingers to the damp, raging heart of her, his mouth went there instead. Dorsey’s eyes snapped open wide, and she cried out in both surprise and scandal at the sensations that swamped her when he flicked his tongue against her. No one had ever… It was completely unexpected… There was no way she should allow … Surely he wasn’t planning to…

She never completed any of those thoughts, so far gone by now was she that she could scarcely remember her own name. She had ceased to be Dorsey, had ceased to be Mack, had ceased to be even Lauren Grable-Monroe. At that moment, she was simply a woman—nothing more, nothing less. And for making her feel that way, more than anything else, she would always be grateful to Adam.

And then even that fey, indistinct thought evaporated, melted away into a capricious whirl of others even less defined. All Dorsey could do then was feel. Feel and marvel at the kaleidoscope of sensation and emotion that wheeled through her, until even those shattered into a billion shards of joy.

She cried out her completion and instinctively groped for Adam. Clutching his shoulders, she pulled him back up to her breast, captured him, clung to him. But before she could say a word, he pushed himself between her legs and coaxed them wider still. She moved her hand between their bodies to find his ripened, rigid shaft and was surprised to discover that it was already sheathed in a condom. But her disappointment that she wouldn’t have the opportunity to explore him more completely quickly turned to anticipation when she felt the solid length of him pressing against her hand. He was so … oh… Instinctively, she opened her legs wider, thrust her h*ps forward, and guided him to where she wanted him to be.

With one swift, arrogant thrust, Adam buried himself as deeply as he could, filling Dorsey in a way she had never been filled before. With that one, single maneuver, he seemed to be everywhere inside her, overflowing places she had never known were empty, warming parts of her she had never realized were cold. For a moment after entering her, he stilled, remained motionless, as if he couldn’t quite believe what he had done. Then he withdrew and pushed himself forward again, even more deeply than before. And Dorsey knew in that moment that regardless of where he might be in the future—or, perhaps more realistically, where he would not be—Adam would never, ever leave those places inside her that he had filled. Not completely. He would be with her always. No matter what.

Then she gave up thinking at all, because his movements became more rapid, more rhythmic, more insistent than ever before. Again and again he drove himself inside her, deeper and deeper, faster and faster, harder and harder and harder still. Dorsey bucked her h*ps upward to meet every swift thrust, wrapped her legs and arms tightly around him, until their damp, heated bodies seemed to fuse into one. And just when she thought they had accomplished that very thing, just when she was certain the two of them had united to become one, Adam’s thrusting ceased, and his entire body went rigid atop hers.

Had it not been for the man-made barrier he’d donned to protect her, he would have emptied himself inside her then, would have mingled his physical essence with her own. Something in Dorsey grieved for that loss, even with her certainty that he had done the right thing. The joining of their spiritual and emotional essences had been more than complete, she told herself. And that was what was truly important.

After one final thrust, Adam withdrew from her, then deftly maneuvered their bodies so that he was flat on his back with Dorsey lying atop him. "Next time, Mack," he gasped against her hair, "we do this in a bed. Agreed?"

Somehow, she found the strength to nod. "Agreed."

After the passage of approximately two seconds, he added, "Okay, I’m ready for next time. How about you?"

Chapter 10

E die still had a full block to cover before reaching her car when she finally accepted the fact that she was being followed. She had felt someone’s gaze trailing her almost since she’d stepped out of the elevator and into the lobby of Adam Darien’s building five minutes ago, but she’d brushed the sensation off, had tried to convince herself that she was imagining things. She was tired, it had been a long night, and no woman in her right mind savored a solitary walk in the darkness.

Edie had told herself she was just creating monsters where there were none. And heaven knew she could spot a monster from this distance. And she was certainly no stranger to dark urban streets.

In spite of the quick pep talk, however, she’d been fighting off a major wiggins ever since leaving Adam’s place. She’d even ducked into a coffee shop and ordered a café au lait to go, hoping that whoever belonged to the gaze following her would continue on his merry way and find someone else to creep out. Within seconds of leaving the coffee shop, however, that eerie sensation of being watched had washed over her again, and she’d heard the sound of not so distant footsteps echoing her own.

She hadn’t planned on leaving Adam Darien’s place by herself, had figured she’d help Dorsey finish cleaning up, and then the two of them could walk out together. But Dorsey had insisted she could close things down by herself and had encouraged Edie quite adamantly to go on home. Had Edie explained the situation and said she didn’t want to walk so great a distance by herself, Dorsey—and probably Adam Darien, too, for that matter—would have no doubt come to her aid.