Unwrapped (20 page)

"You can. Look at yourself, Mia. Look at your eyes, so
dark and heavy, and your lips, so full."

He brushed his thumb over them, and she followed the
movement with her tongue, wanting desperately for him to kiss her again, touch
her again, anything—

"And those nipples," he continued, drawing his
fingers back to her straining peaks, squeezing them lightly, just once, between
his thumbs and forefingers so that she cried out her need, "so succulent.
So sensitive."

"Derrick, I'm begging you. . ."

She fell back against him, panting, unable to keep herself
upright any longer, but his hands had more territory to explore. Pulling aside
the floaty halves of her gown, he smoothed his fingers down her bare belly,
inch by inch, circling her navel, then tracing her hip bones. And every inch of
her quivered in response.

The sensation of his bare hands on her naked
flesh—finally, finally—his lightly calloused palms, his scalding
heat. . . Indescribable.

Oh-so-slowly, Derrick glided his fingers down either side of
the V leading to the apex of her thighs, so that his hands framed the dark
secret of her womanhood.

"Look, Mia. Watch."

She could hardly focus as his hands delved further, nudging
her legs apart. He was supporting her now as she leaned against him, one
trembling arm lifted backward around his neck to anchor herself, all muscle
strength vanished. Every nerve in her body screamed for him to touch her there,
please, God
, there, finally, to end her
torment.

Derrick's eyes, hot, heavy, gleaming, were on his hands as
they stroked up her inner thighs to again frame her sex, so very close to where
she needed him most. With the slightest of pressure, he pulled his hands apart,
opening the petals of her femininity to the mirror, revealing her to his gaze,
and nearly making her swoon.

"Magnificent," he said against her ear, his eyes
glued to the glistening folds and drenched curls between his fingers as though
he would never look away.

"Please," she said, her voice throaty and raw,
drawing his gaze back to hers in the mirror. "Please."

"Tell me, Mia. Tell me again."

"I love you. God, I love you, Derrick,
please—"

With both hands, he slipped them over her mound, his fingers
sliding into her liquid heat, and his moan echoed her own.

"God, you're so wet." Voice exultant, his fingers
cupping, spreading, seeking out her secrets, Derrick drove her mindlessly
onward.

"I need—"

Plunging a finger deeply inside her, to the brink of that
final barrier, Derrick rocked with her quaking body. At the very moment she
thought she couldn't take another second, he slid one thumb firmly against the
center of her desire, and the orgasm tore through her like a fiery rocket,
obliterating everything in its path.

Trembling and weak, Mia sobbed out her relief, Derrick's
muscular arm banded about her middle the only thing keeping her from slipping
to the floor in a grateful puddle.

She thought, Thank God, or maybe she said it out loud. She'd
never imagined the feel of a man's hands, this man's hands, on her flesh,
inside her, could create such a storm of sensations. It was incredible,
unbearable, barely survivable. And she wanted more. She wanted all.

In a minute. When she could breathe again.

But Derrick gave her no time to recover. His hands were
moving again, stroking again. Thighs, belly, breasts, oh, yes, her aching,
straining nipples. His clever fingers stroked and plucked through the fabric of
her gown. Pleasure, so intense it was near-pain, swamped her body, cresting on
the waves still washing over her from the orgasm.

Eyes locked with hers, he sucked a finger, still slick from
her body, into his mouth, then hummed deep in his throat, his eyes half-closed
as he tasted her on his skin. She flushed in response, hotter and hotter until
she thought she'd combust, but she couldn't look away. He drew the wet tip from
his mouth, then traced it in a circle around her left nipple, dampening the
cloth and tightening, tightening, tightening, the rosy peak gone dark with
passion.

The sound she made was inhuman.

Derrick's smile went sharp, feral, his eyes ravenous. The
turgid length of his cock branded her backside, pulsing against her as he
traced another finger up her chest, to her own lips this time, coaxing her
mouth open to lick and suck. His breathing rasped in her ear as together they
watched his finger sliding in and out, the taste of his hot, salty skin and her
own desire creating a new delicacy of flavors, one that was theirs alone.

Withdrawing, he treated her other nipple to the same wetly
drawn circle, the already sheer fabric going completely transparent and
clinging to both rigid, needy tips. He rolled them between his fingers,
pinching lightly, and the arrow of pure, merciless lust shooting to her center
nearly cleaved her in two.

"Derrick—" The desperate, mewling weakness
in her voice sounded strange to her ears, nothing like herself, but she had no
strength left to give her words.

He murmured to her, pledges low and feverish as he nipped at
her neck, her shoulders, but she couldn't decipher their meaning.

With both palms, he covered her, staking his claim on her
body, watching
 
her in the mirror,
and still it wasn't enough. She wanted his skin, no more barriers.

As though reading her mind, his fingers slid between her
breasts, grasping the ribbon holding the material together, and pulled. Light
as a feather, he brushed the fabric aside, and finally, finally, his hands
caressed her bare nipples, plumping the mounds of her breasts.

Exquisite agony.

His touch molded her body, took her out of herself, sent her
tumbling headlong toward higher and higher pinnacles of pleasure. How could she
have known the lengths and breadths and depths of delight awaiting her, the
sheer variety of sensations Derrick could coax from the very marrow of her
bones? Her virginal fantasies burned to ash, incinerated in the blistering heat
of his touch, and mouth, and tongue.

And still, new heights, new thresholds hovered just out of
reach.

She wanted to touch him. To hold and stroke and excite him,
to destroy him the way he was destroying her, inch by wicked inch.

Derrick's hands left her breasts and she moaned in protest.
His throaty chuckle rumbled against her back. His fingers skimmed along her
arms, drawing away the fingers still clasped about his neck, until he held her
hands in his, and placed them on his dresser, bending her forward beneath him.

He whispered, "Hold on," and stepped back,
removing the bracing presence of his body so she nearly collapsed.

Moving his hands to her shoulders, he swept the thin
shoulder straps down her arms where they pooled against the backs of her hands.
One by one, he lifted her fingers, and the gown dropped away, leaving her
finally, fully, feverishly naked.

Tensed, skilled, ruthless, his fingers skated down her
exposed back, skimming her spine and raising gooseflesh in their wake, to cup
her bottom. He drew patterns on her skin, his thumbs stroking the crease
between her thighs and buttocks, then delving between, making her gasp.

When his lips followed, her bones caught fire.

"Derrick, no, I—"

He nipped her waist, his seeking fingers tantalizing her
secret creases, stoking the inferno. He nibbled his way toward her bottom, and
now his hands pressed between her legs, forcing them apart and spreading his
fingers forward to brace against the front of her thighs. But when the tip of
his tongue darted between for one long, hard stroke, her fingers convulsed on
the edge of his dresser, and she screamed.

"I can't, I can't—"

Derrick surged to his feet in one smooth lunge, snatching
her into his arms before she could fall to the floor at his feet. He bore her
to the bed, stretching her out on the smooth, cool sheets and covering her with
the weight of his body. Sensations rippled over every inch of her body, the
sheets sliding beneath her, his searing heat and the roughness of his clothing
above.

His thigh wedged between hers, delicious pressure she rubbed
herself against with abandon, and his mouth plundered her own, his lips and
teeth and tongue devouring her, swallowing her cries for more. Her hands raked
his back in voracious demand.

"Mia, Mia, Mia," he chanted her name, a desperate
cadence, as he rained kisses over her face, her neck, her shoulders.

And finally closed his lips over her breast, taking her
nipple deeply into his scalding mouth, suckling hard. She arched off the bed,
pushing herself against him, her hands buried in his hair, pulling him closer,
tighter, harder.

Burying his head between her breasts, he kissed her there,
his shoulders heaving with every heavy breath. Sweat beaded along his brow,
dampening his hair. She stroked it back, her fingers feathering through the
sandy tips.

When he pushed off the bed to stand beside her, she shivered
from the lack of his body heat, her hands moving automatically to cover herself
from his gaze. Derrick stopped her, holding her hands in his and moving them
out to her sides so he could look his fill. He didn't speak, but when his eyes
moved back to hers, she saw everything she needed to in his reverent
expression.

As if in a trance, his eyes roving her body endlessly,
drinking in her nakedness, Derrick's fingers moved to the buttons on his shirt.
One at a time, they came undone, exposing the white t-shirt he wore beneath.
The dress-shirt dropped from his shoulders and he whipped the t-shirt over his
head. Mia drew in a sharp breath. His body fascinated her, called for her
touch. As many times as she'd seen his bare chest, never before had she seen
him like this, taut with passion, muscles rippling with restraint, and all
hers.

His hands moved to his belt, sliding it slowly through the
loops and dropping it to the floor with the rest of his clothing. His slacks
and socks followed, and her breath held as he slowly drew down his boxers and
stood, naked in the candlelight.

Oh, my
.

Nerves she'd forgotten rushed back in a turbulent flood. Her
mouth went dry, and goose bumps flashed across her skin. Her eyes shot to his,
apprehension fluttering in her belly.

He was so beautiful. Magnificent, really, stunning in his
masculinity, but there was no way—

"Mia," he said, his voice strained. He cupped her
cheek in his hand. "It's all right. Touch me. Touch me, Mia."

Hesitant, transfixed, she reached a hand out to him, sliding
her fingers down his hard, flat belly, quivering beneath her touch. And into
the nest of curls around his swollen shaft. Taking a deep breath, she slid her
fingers onto his erection, and it jumped beneath her hand, startling her.

"Oh!" she said on a gasp, her eyes darting to his.
"Did I hurt you?"

Derrick shook his head, but his face was tight, tense, his
mouth drawn into a rigid line. Sweat dotted his upper lip.

Understanding, braver now, she stroked her fingers down the
velvety length, marveling at the texture. Soft, smooth skin over hardened
steel.

Wanting more, she rolled to her side to face him, placing
both hands around his staff, but he caught her wrists and pulled her away with
a groan. Pinning her arms above her head, he stretched out on top of her,
finally quenching her driving need for his bare skin on hers. His naked thigh
rested between her legs, the hot, pulsing length of his cock teasing her belly.
He bit her chin, the lobe of her ear, ran his tongue along the length of her
jaw before diving into her mouth for a kiss that nearly blew her apart.

How had she survived so long without him, without his
devastating nakedness branding her, consuming her with his fire?

Too many sensations whipped her into a frenzy, too many
feelings—love, lust, that still-trembling bit of fear for the final
moment when he would make her truly his in every sense.

Propping himself on his elbows, Derrick nipped her lips,
clearly trying to slow the pace, stroking her hair away from her forehead.

"I love you, Mia. So much." He gave her a kiss of
aching sweetness, his tawny eyes never leaving hers. "I-I can't promise
not to hurt you this first time, but I'll be as careful as I can. I
promise."

Mia pulled him down for another kiss, cupping his face in
her hands. "I know. I love you, Derrick. I trust you."

His eyes, already burning, flared hotter. He kissed her once
more, but when she would have held him there, he shifted, trailing kisses along
her sternum and down to her belly. He swirled his tongue into her navel, then
dragged it down to the top of her curls, while inside her the ache of need
burgeoned.

He kissed the edges of that dark triangle, his hands pushing
her legs apart. Her muscles shook uncontrollably, and when he placed his mouth
at her center and kissed, she bowed up from the bed in reaction, her heart
galloping in her chest.

"Oh, God!"

Derrick smoothed a hand up her belly, pushing her gently
back down. She couldn't catch her breath, couldn't slow the racing tide of her
pulse. With his tongue, he parted her, laving her slick, wet folds, and
shooting her into new stratospheres of sensation. Lapping at her entrance, then
darting his tongue inside, he hummed against her, and the sound rocketed up her
spine. He nibbled and fed on her, and the spiraling, coiling heat drove her
closer and closer to the shattering climax she craved.

He stroked, holding her shaking thighs open against her
instinctive tightening. Her hips pumped against him, begging for more. He
swirled his tongue over her sensitive bud, and the coils wound tighter, nearly
unbearable under his assault on her flesh.

Then he began to suckle. He pulled the tiny pulsing pearl of
her desire into his mouth, gently, gently, then harder, harder, and she was
bucking, thrashing beneath him, her body beyond her control. Panting screams
tore from her throat, and when he slipped a finger inside her and pulled once
more on the center of her desire, a raging inferno fountained from her core,
spreading blistering heat, blinding light through every cell in her body and
beyond.