Joy Ride by Desiree Holt (reading a book TXT) 📕

it made heat creep to her cheeks and an unfamiliar hunger gripped her.

Marc lifted her hands to his mouth and kissed her knuckles. “You’re shaking.” He studied her expression. “We don’t have to do this if you don’t want to. We can stop right now.”

She trembled with need, not fear. Her gaze skimmed his face, dark hair falling around it like a silk cloak, stubble shadowing his strong jaw, stormy blue eyes flashing with fire. Not do this? Was he crazy?

“Don’t stop,” she told him in a soft voice. “I want this.”

“Me, too.” His voice was a low, sexy growl.

She wet her lips. “I-I never do this. I want you to know that.”

He grinned at her. “Have sex?” he teased.

Her face heated. “Go home with someone I’ve just met.”

She expected arrogance, male pride, self-satisfaction but what she got was a look of such tenderness, it made her heart clench.

“I figured that out already, babe. It’s okay. We’ll just take things easy.”

“No.” She shook her head. “I don’t want that. I want you. Everything. All of it.”

All the things I’ve heard whispered about but never experienced. I want what put that look in Jacie’s eyes.

He brushed his mouth over hers. “Then that’s what you’ll get.”

He untied the tails of her blouse and popped each button slowly, pushing the fabric down her arms until the garment fell to the floor. In the next instant the bra followed it. The heat of his gaze raked over her breasts. He took her nipples between thumb and forefinger of each hand and squeezed gently.

“Jesus, you have the most gorgeous breasts.” He sounded almost reverent. “Your nipples are so rosy, so firm.”

Bending his head, he took one firm bud into his mouth and sucked deeply, flicking his tongue over the pebbled surface. His lips and tongue were so soft, she melted beneath them. The sensation was almost unbearable, and she moaned in response.

His warm palms cupped her breasts. His palms holding the weight of them as he worshipped first one nipple then the other. The slightly rough surface of his tongue sent jolts of heat through her. Emma stood there feeling truly desirable for the first time in her life. This was no obligatory action. This man actually wanted her. Her! And she wanted him just as badly.

She lifted her hands and stroked along his jawline, loving the rough texture of his late night growth of beard. She moved her fingers upward to the thick shock of hair that was so soft and smooth as she touched it, still wild from his movements on stage. Her breathing hitched as he pulled harder first on one nipple then the other before tracing a line down the valley between her breasts with his tongue.

Marc moved down her rib cage to the waistband of her jeans, and she heard the pop as the snap opened and the hiss of the zipper being lowered. He pushed her jeans and panties down past her hips before urging her down to the bed, lowering her to the edge of the mattress. His gaze never left hers as he tugged the garments off the rest of the way. Then he put his lean fingers on her thighs and spread them wide.

At first, Emma felt self-consciously exposed, his eyes drinking in the sight of her pubic curls and the pink flesh of her sex. The men she’d been with before this always did everything in the dark. Now she wondered if Marc liked what he saw. If she was as sexy as the other women he’d been with.

As if he knew what she was thinking, he murmured, “Beautiful.”

When he knelt on the floor in front of her and she realized what he was about to do, she tried to push him away.

“You—you don’t have to do that,” she stammered.

He looked up at her. “I don’t have to do anything. I want to. Hasn’t any man ever wanted to eat this sweet pussy before?”

The word shocked her. It wasn’t one she used in conversations with girlfriends. Not even with Annie, her best friend. And certainly none of the pitifully few men she’d been with used blunt sexual language. Sometimes Andrew seemed almost embarrassed to acknowledge they were having sex.

While she was still trying to form an answer to his question, he bent his head and traced a line down the length of her slit with his tongue.

The blast of heat that surged through her was shocking. Every nerve fired and her…pussy…clenched! Just that one caress nearly did her in.

He made a humming noise of satisfaction. “And delicious, too,” he murmured against her flesh.

His words made her shiver, made her pulse ratchet up and erotic hunger clutch at her. Without thinking she widened her legs even more, and he groaned in pleasure against her flesh. Another lick. Another stroke with his tongue. Then a flick against the throbbing bud of her clit, and another jolt of sensation speared her so powerful it gripped her like an iron fist.

He nudged her back on the bed until she was lying flat and draped her legs over his shoulders. Dropping to his knees, he opened the lips of her sex with those lean talented fingers, stroking her as if he was playing his guitar, and thrust his tongue deep inside her.

“Ohhhhh.” A moan slipped past her lips.

Then he did it again. And again. Moving his fingers so he could rub and tease her clit as he fucked her with his tongue, coaxing her to a higher plane of arousal.

Emma lay there wrapped in a cloud of pleasure that drifted over every inch of her skin, giving herself over to responses that were new and startling. She wanted this to go on forever—that glide and plunge of his tongue, the flick and rub of his fingers. But the coil of need wound so tightly inside her began to unfurl itself and spiral up through her body.

She tensed for a moment when Marc used his fingers to scoop some of the