Saving Liberty (Kissing #6) (22 page)

I was panting, gasping for breath between each frantic kiss, but it wasn’t air I needed. I was breathing pure Kian, now, pure essence of Irishman, straight from the source, and I couldn’t get enough. My fingers dug into his shoulders through his suit, pulling him closer. I wanted to merge with him, wanted him in me in every possible way.

He bent me backwards over his arm, pressing closer, the hardness of his chest stroking the softness of my breasts, and I went weak. His other hand suddenly slid into my hair, fingers running through it again and again like it was the best thing he’d ever felt, and every touch of his fingertips against my scalp sent new ripples of pleasure through me. The kiss was changing again: he was taking control, showing me how he wanted me. A new tremor went through me as I felt his lips begin to push at mine, forcing them to open, and his tongue teased their edges. I felt myself melting: I’d never felt so gloriously soft, so vulnerable, so damn
feminine
as when that hard tongue stroked my lips. I actually went light-headed. My whole body went momentarily limp as I just opened and welcomed him in. I hadn’t known, until that second, that swooning was actually a thing.

His tongue invaded me, exploring me and then finding my own tongue and drawing it into the dance. I was sinking lower and lower over his arm and then, suddenly, he swept me up and lifted me, one arm under my ass and the other under my shoulders. He twisted us and I felt my hair fly out to the side. I could feel the distant vibration of footsteps as he walked us across the room, but they were hazy: everything was soft, hot pleasure wrapped around the hard rhythm of the kiss. I was addicted to him, drunk on him. I wanted it to never stop.

Then I was falling. His lips broke from mine, my hands slipped from his shoulders and I felt my hair fly upwards as I dropped. I landed on my back on the bed, arms and legs flung wide, hair spread across the pillow like a dark halo. Panting, open-mouthed, I opened my eyes and searched for him.

I found him at the side of the bed, standing over me. Looking up at him like that, he seemed even bigger and, when I saw what he was doing, I gulped and my heart sped up a gear.

He was staring right into my eyes... and undressing. Quickly. Carelessly. He stripped off his suit jacket and tossed it away, then unstrapped his holster and pulled off his tie. Next, the shirt, button by button, that snow-white facade of goodness stripped away to reveal the badness beneath.

I lay there panting, his gaze like a laser on me, heating me up in deep, powerful waves that rippled out from my groin. I could see in his eyes every filthy thing he wanted to do to me and I wanted it all.

His chest appeared first: twin slabs of tan hardness, so wide and full. Then, as he undid button after button, his abs came into view. I’d known he was hard, there: I’d caught enough glimpses of him when the sun shone just right through the thin fabric or the wind blew it against his body to know that much. But I wasn’t ready for how ripped he was: a deep centerline running all the way down between...
wow.
I’d heard of washboard abs but this was like... my fingers actually itched with the need to stroke his torso, riding the smooth rise and fall of those hard ridges. And his arms... now I could see the thick swells of his biceps and his military tattoos for the first time. His past, written in dark lines of ink across tan muscle. I wanted to touch him there; I wanted to touch him everywhere.

He didn’t stop looking at me. Not as he kicked off his shoes and pulled off his socks. Not as he drew his belt through its loops and tossed it aside. Then he was unfastening his pants, shucking them down around his muscled hips and letting them fall to the floor—

I swallowed as I got my first look at the bulge under his jockey shorts: thick and long and pushing out the stretchy fabric in a way that made it impossible not to stare at it. God, I could actually make out the blunt-arrow shape of the head, so...
thick.

I realized I was pressing my thighs together.

He saw and his cock visibly twitched. He focused on that one part of me and I felt the molten heat at the juncture of my thighs turn to slick wetness. I was pinned to the bed by his gaze and it was getting hard to resist the temptation to reach down and play with myself just to relieve the throbbing ache there. Part of me was still shell-shocked, not really believing it was finally happening.
Things like this don’t happen to me,
I thought. I was the original good girl: I was the President’s daughter, for God’s sake.
I don’t lie here on a bed in the middle of the day while some guy—

He stepped closer, his thumbs hooked in the waistband of his jockey shorts... and pushed.

He was standing right next to the bed, now, so when his cock sprang free it hung over me. I stared up at it, my breathing growing ragged. The shaft was the same smooth tan as his body, the head a rich purple-pink, glossy and firm as a plum. Kian took a long, slow breath himself. I was looking up at him at such an angle that I could see his cock and his face, all without moving my eyes. I could see him staring at me and I could see what I was doing to him. And he could see me looking up at him and see me slowly grinding my thighs together, helpless now to resist the need for friction. We were in a feedback loop, his cock rising and stiffening as he stared down at my slow writhing, me getting wetter as I watched him getting harder.

“This is you, Emily,” he said in a low growl. “This is what you do to me.”

I swallowed and said nothing. I was torn between wanting him to climb onto the bed and wanting to hear more.

“I’ve wanted you since I first saw you.” The Irish was thick in his voice now, the words fireballs dipped in silver that seared into my mind. “One second after you spoke to me, I was wondering what it’d be like to kiss you. Two seconds, I was thinking about what it’d be like to fuck you.”

His eyes blazed down my body. My dress might as well have not been there: I could feel each tiny millimeter of skin throb as his gaze passed.
Face. Throat. Chest.
My nipples tightened as he gazed at my breasts.
Stomach. Groin.
My hips lifted as if drawn by an invisible thread and then my ass ground hard into the bed.

Kian put one knee on the bed, the mattress sinking under his weight. My stomach flip-flopped. This was happening, really happening. My eyes kept flicking between his erect cock and the sculpted thighs either side of it: so much power, ready to drive that cock inexorably into me....

“Turn onto your stomach,” he ordered. “I’m taking that dress off you.”

My head was swimming. I turned over, my head to the side. In the mirror, I saw him swing one leg over me and kneel astride my legs. Then he leaned forward, one hand extended to my neck... I gasped as I felt his fingers brush my hair out of the way. His lips met the nape of my neck in a slow kiss and I squeezed my eyes shut, just relishing it. Then I felt the neck of my dress pull tight at the front and the metallic rasp as the zipper came down all... the way... to the bottom. His lips followed, tracing a path of fire down my back, so many kisses that his lips barely left my skin.

Then his hands were sliding under the fabric on either side of my torso, just below my breasts. His thumbs stroked across my back for a second as if he couldn’t resist touching me. Then he was lifting me up off the bed and the upper half of the dress was slithering down my arms and off….

He turned me over and lowered me again. There was something about the way he did it: so effortless, his hands so big, that sent a stab of heat straight down to my groin. Then I was on my back again, staring up at him. It was the first time he’d seen my breasts, except for that tiny glimpse when he’d walked in on me, and I could feel them throbbing, aching in their sudden nudity, my nipples puckering and tightening as the cool air hit them. That sudden, momentary panic:
what if he doesn’t like me?

The look on his face as he gazed down at me blasted that thought away. I heard his breathing quicken, saw his whole magnificent body tense as he feasted his eyes. Then his head was coming down and—
Oh God!—
I arched my back as his hot mouth enveloped me, tongue lashing across my nipple. My hands grabbed for his head, burying themselves in that thick, black Irish hair. Streamers of scarlet pleasure sparked down from my breast to my groin, feeding into the slowly spinning core that was building there. He took possession of my other breast with his hand, rolling and kneading it with just the right pressure while his thumb teased the nipple. Meanwhile, his tongue never stopped, expert and quick as it teased my slickened flesh. I began to pant and thrash, moving in rhythm with him, the pleasure spinning faster and faster.

I’d never been good at talking during sex. Growing up as a Senator’s daughter will do that to you: I was a good girl, even in the bedroom. But now, as Kian’s mouth and fingers teased me closer and closer to the edge, I found my voice. I tangled my fingers into his hair and gently pushed him back. “Please,” I gasped. One word was all I could manage, but he got the message. I wanted—
needed—
him.

My dress was still on my lower half. He grabbed the top of it and I lifted my hips and shimmied as he pulled it down my legs and off, tossing it into a corner and leaving me in just panties and heels. Kian took a moment to run his hands languorously up and down my legs, trailing his fingertips along my skin as if he couldn’t get enough of them. The satisfied smile on his face said it all: he’d been wanting to do that for a long, long time. Every stroke of those warm palms and strong fingers sent pleasure rippling through me, all of it spiraling inward towards my groin. And the longer he did it, the more his whole muscled body seemed to harden with arousal, everything becoming tight and primed, even his breathing growing strained, until at last he couldn’t wait any longer....

I gasped as he suddenly hooked his fingers into my panties and slipped them off. I lay there naked, every inch of me exposed to him, getting wetter and wetter as he knelt there just looking at me. Without ever taking his eyes from me, he felt in his discarded pants for a condom and rolled it on. I swallowed as he nudged my knees apart and began to lower himself atop me, one hand at the base of his cock to guide it—

Footsteps outside my door.

I heard them just as Kian’s hands slapped down on the bed either side of my shoulders, tanned, hard, and thick with muscle. I grabbed at his forearms and looked towards the door in horror. I suddenly remembered we were in the White House, in the middle of the day.

Kian didn’t stop, didn’t seem to even care. He pushed forward, his body so hard, so
big
as it moved up between my thighs. Over his shoulder, I saw his ass tighten and dimple as his hips came forward... and then I gasped as the tip of his cock caressed my folds.

The footsteps stopped outside my bedroom door.
Right
outside. My chest tightened with panic as someone coughed. Were they about to come in? My eyes flicked between Kian and the door, about to tell him to stop—

Then he eased forward and I felt myself open, silk around iron, and suddenly I didn’t care anymore. I could feel every millimeter of him, could feel myself stretching deliciously around his girth... my eyes fluttered closed and my hands dropped from his arms to fall to the bed, clutching at the sheets.

Low voices outside, one Secret Service agent muttering to another. Probably wondering where Kian was.
He’s in here,
a crazy voice inside my head wanted to yell.
He’s….

...slidingdeeperandOhGod—

I arched my back, breasts pillowing against Kian’s chest, and quickly brought my hand to my face, biting one knuckle between my teeth to keep from crying out. It
felt... so... good!
I panted hard through my nose as he went deeper, his hard, muscled ass driving between my thighs maybe ten feet from where the two agents were standing. My knees sank outwards, my shoes scraping along the comforter as I drew my feet in. I wrapped my arms around his muscled back as he drew back and thrust deeper, every inch setting off new waves of pleasure. And then suddenly my head lifted off the pillow and my eyes opened wide as he filled me completely.

We stayed like that for several seconds, his hard body covering mine, his thighs holding mine wide apart. Then he slowly began to thrust and the pleasure I could see in his eyes mirrored my own. I’d never seen a man so turned on before, never seen such intensity as he stared down at me, our gazes locked as his hips rose and fell. He was brutal and gentle, a hard thrust in that made me gasp, then a silken withdrawal that made me tremble. I glanced in the mirror again and my heart thundered in my chest at the sight of his muscled body between my thighs, his ass rising and falling. I felt my climax building, the pleasure tightening its hold on me, making me claw my way along his back, making my feet come up off the bed and scrabble at his legs.
God, I’m out of control!
The pleasure was whirling faster, faster—
too soon—

He could read me perfectly. He slowed down and sank onto his elbows so that we were in contact all the way from groin to chest. For a second, we just panted and stared into each other’s eyes. Only when my breathing slowed a little did he start to move again.

This time it was even better. His hard chest slid across my breasts with each thrust, stroking nipples that were as hard as pebbles. The base of his cock ground against my clit, giving the pleasure a new core to wrap itself around. When he rooted himself in me, his chest came so high I could stretch up and tongue the hard slab of his pec, flicking my tongue over the dime-sized nipple, and he groaned low in his throat in pleasure. He grabbed my hands and pushed them down to the bed, interlacing his fingers in mine, then nudged my head to the side so that he could whisper in my ear, his words molten silver that soaked straight down inside me. “
I’m fucking crazy for you. Every inch of you. Every scrap of you. Every atom of you. I’m not going to let anyone hurt you, but right now I’m going to make you mine.”