Chapter 11
It seemed to Remington, that Laura's eyes held his for an eternity before she fully stirred. A pair of fingertips brushed back that stubborn lock of hair again, then she leaned in to kiss him. Slow, lingering, dazzling kisses that he would swear spoke of the words he longed to cross her lips, to be carried by that lovely, lilting voice of hers. His fingers weaved in and out of her hair, along her neck, down her back. He wanted to memorize every nuance of her, every spot on her body that made her gasp… or shiver, that made her lean further into him until her breasts pressed against his chest, that made her rear up and search out his lips again.
When she ended the kiss, leaving his nerve endings quivering, he leaned back to hold her eyes with his again, the plea slipped past his lips, unwittingly.
"Touch me, Laura."
She drew a lip into her mouth to nibble at it, studying him at length before releasing it. A smile began to lift her lips and she nodded slowly, then leaned down to touch her lips to his brow. Her lips left a blazing path over his face, along his jaw, down his neck, along each shoulder, before she slowed to explore his body for the second time on the evening, suckling, nipping, kissing, touching gloriously sensitive spots she'd identified the first time, discovering new areas the second and exploiting them. She lost track of how many times he moaned her name, of how many times his hands clutched at her body, clenched the sheets, how many times his back arched, his hips bucked. She recognized the gift for what it was: He giving her complete control over him as he had, and it was remarkably… freeing.
She paused when her mouth, her hands, reached his hips, having wrung every ounce of pleasure she could out of his hands, his arms, his shoulders, his neck… his torso. She wanted to see his eyes when she took his shaft into her hand, but it wasn't until she shifted to kneel between his legs that eyes closed half-mast flew open… eyes that were nearly silver from desire meeting her limpid brown ones. Only then, her eyes never leaving his, did she take him in hand to ease back the foreskin so she could brush a kiss over the engorged head. His hips, bucked, despite his best attempt to appear the suave and debonair lover he liked to believe he was.
"Laura," he gasped. "You don't have—"
"I've dreamt of doing this… for you," she informed him in a voice that had grown husky with desire.
"As have I," he answered gruffly, the admission passing his lips of its own accord, as his hand reached down to tangle gently in her hair.
Perilously close, already, it hadn't take much to pitch him into oblivion. Her sultry brown eyes returning to his, time-and-time again; the whispering touch of her fingertips along his inner thighs; a gentle squeeze of his sacs by her hand; the perfect combination of long, heated licks, soft nips, the cadence of her mouth moving over his pulsating shaft. He was left, grasping at the sheets as his back arched, his body shook, calling out her name as she swallowed every drop of his essence.
When he at last stilled, those lovely brown eyes met his and she smiled. It was the final act in his undoing, his heart hers, and hers irrevocably… not that it hadn't been for a long, long time.
He sat up, and dragged her body upwards, much as he had when they first landed on the bed. He pressed a hard kiss to her forehead, as she wrapped her body around his and lay her head on his shoulder.
Then they dozed.