...Isy’s heart raced. She knew what Connor intended to do, down there on the floor, his head even with her groin. She knew, and she didn’t care.
Oh, no, that was an outright lie. She cared…so much. She wanted his mouth on her engorged sex lips, wanted him sucking on each delicate fold, needed him to graze her swollen clit with his tongue.
What would it hurt? She was still pretending she was the one he wanted, and for now, that was enough. Besides, it’s not as if she was breaking any law. She wouldn’t let him penetrate her—even if he wanted to, which, surely, he didn’t.
He used the flat of his palms to spread her thighs apart and gaze at her parting lips. “So beautiful,” he murmured, and Isy imagined that was true reverence she heard in his voice.
She glanced between her legs, assessing the appearance of her pussy with the clinical eye of a practitioner. Not bad for a forty-four year old. The inner labia looked dewy and pink, peeking out from a neatly-trimmed thatch of pale pubic hair. Not a gray strand in the bunch, she noted with foolish pride. She could smell her musk, more delicate than she’d expected considering cream seeped between her folds and dripped onto the counter.
Connor pressed the tips of two fingers against her clit and rubbed slowly in small circles. His gaze pinned hers. “Good?”
She said something incomprehensible. A cry and a moan and his name, all rolled into a sigh of breathless wonder.
He grinned, and the sight of that genuine smile made Isy’s heart do a summersault.
Like he had to ask. She licked her lips. “Please.”
So polite. Her voice so damn steady, despite the fact she felt as though she was coming apart at the seams from the inside. The urge to clamp her thighs around Connor’s handsome face and grind her pussy against his mouth knocked the air from her lungs. She fought for control, each breath coming in a harsh, ragged gasp as potent need clamped down on her belly and twisted.
Lust knifed her, and still, Connor went slowly. Maddeningly slowly.
He placed sweet, soft kisses to the inside of her thigh. His warm lips caressed her skin and the tip of his tongue left a wet trail in his wake. Each brush of his mouth felt like a sensual embrace, engulfing her flesh, driving deep inside her where the taut need and the silly girlish fantasies had been lying dormant for so long.
The progress of his mouth wasn’t even a kiss any longer. It was a getting-to-know you exploration, each erotic lick branding her, claiming her.
When he finally reached her pussy, he hovered there, his lips tantalizingly close to her aching center. She felt his breath, every puff stoking flames of raw need, making her quiver while her emotions spiked and spiraled out of control.
One more second. She only had to hold on for one more second and he’d give her what she craved. He’d cover the remainder of the distance and clamp his mouth to her pussy in a soul-shattering, mind-numbing intimate kiss.
She ground her teeth together so hard her jaw hurt. Her fingernails dug into her palms. Her breath jerked in tiny little spasms that held her on the edge of climax. One touch of his lips, one fleeting dab of his tongue, and she’d come so hard and so fast that she’d howl with the endless pleasure of it.
Lightning-fast, before she could even fathom the cruelty of it, Connor rose to his full height. His chin grazed her cheek when he leaned in again to whisper in her ear. “I can do this for hours, Isabel. Hours. And then, just when you think you can’t take any more, you’ll beg me to fuck you. You’ll be so hungry for my cock that you’ll plead with me to shove it inside you and take you, again and again and again.”
“No.” A croak of denial, but she meant it. She couldn’t succumb to the maddening sexual urges. No matter how agonizing they were, or how tantalizing Connor was. She wouldn’t give in.
Not Connor. Another voice. A man, somehow familiar.
Isy struggled to make sense of what she was hearing, but her body betrayed her, quaking and making it impossible to think past the agony in her clit and the throbbing heat inside her clenched cunt.
“No,” she repeated. Too dangerous. Too easy to fall, too hard to let go.
Her hands flew to the acute twinge between her legs. She knew her body. One touch would relieve the temporary madness, but she couldn’t do it without her fingers, or Connor’s fingers, or his tongue, or—
Connor was faster. He grabbed her wrists, pushed them together and yanked her hands over her head, holding them there.
Pleasure and pain mingled inside her. She tried to twist out of his grasp and shift on the now-warm surface of the counter. Her pussy left a slick trail of cream along the glossy finish.
That voice again. The other one.
“If you won’t take Connor’s cock, have mine...”