Postcards From… Collection. Maisey YatesЧитать онлайн книгу.
experienced a surge of bone-deep satisfaction. Which was so stupid, she didn’t even have the words. But there it was.
She wanted Max for herself.
They were talking now, the woman gesturing toward the bar, signaling she wanted a drink. He nodded and followed her as she fought her way off the dance floor.
The music slid from one song to the next, this one a throbbing, driving salsa. She didn’t stop to think. She pushed her way forward and intercepted Max before he disappeared into the crowd near the bar.
She met his eyes, smiled and hooked her finger through one of his. Just one dance, she promised herself as she led him back into the thick of things.
He pulled her into his arms the moment they found a spare inch of space. His hips started to move, and she matched his rhythm instantly, easily. One of his hands rested on her hip, the other held her hand, pulling her close. He moved effortlessly, confidently. A sharp, fierce joy hit her. She’d forgotten how good it felt to dance with him.
They danced a salsa, then segued into a rumba. The club was a whirl of lights as Max spun her in his arms. Then the music changed again, switching to a sultry, sexy tango. He pulled her closer again, his hips finding hers, his hand occupying the small of her back.
Locked hip to hip, they strutted across the dance floor. His shirt was damp beneath her hands, clinging to his back. Sweat dripped between her breasts and ran down the column of her spine. Once, twice, three times his thigh inserted itself between hers. Her hand slid from his shoulder to trace his back, then the taut muscles of his arm. His skimmed the top of her backside, his long fingers burning her through her dress. Her breasts tightened, the damp silk of her bodice rasping against her sensually as their bodies moved in unison.
She eyed the column of his throat, watching the pulse that throbbed there. She wanted to press her mouth to his skin. She wanted to taste the salt on his skin and feel the throb of his blood racing through his veins. She wanted to rub herself against him, measure him with her hands and discover if he really was as big and hot and hard as she imagined he would be.
Slowly she lifted her face to his. They locked eyes. Their steps slowed. She didn’t stop to wonder if what she was about to do was smart or wise. And she certainly didn’t think about tomorrow. She stood on her tiptoes, palmed the back of his neck. Then she kissed him, her tongue tracing the fullness of his bottom lip before sliding into his mouth.
He tasted of brandy and coffee and heat. His tongue met hers, danced with it, stroked it. He pulled her closer. She felt the unmistakable ridge of his erection pressing against her belly. A shiver of need raced through her as she rubbed herself against him.
Max said something in French and his hand swept from her shoulder down to her breast. She arched herself into his palm, her hands gliding over his back to find his butt.
The sudden jostle of another couple backing into them broke their kiss. For a long moment they stared at each other, breathless with need.
Maddy glanced over her shoulder, saw an exit sign. She stepped away from him, linking her fingers with his.
“Come with me,” she said.
And she led him outside.
THEY EXITED into a small, cobblestone courtyard. A single light illuminated the far corner. She tugged Max into the shadows and pressed herself against him, desperate to finish what they’d started.
He didn’t need to be asked twice. His hands cradled her head, his fingers delving into her hair. She heard the faint clatter of hairpins falling to the ground as he kissed her, his tongue sweeping into her mouth. Her hair fell over her shoulders, and he grabbed two fistfuls of it and used it to haul her head back and deepen their kiss.
He pressed closer and she could feel his hard-on throbbing against her stomach. Her whole body was shaking with need. She clutched at his shoulders, digging her fingers into the muscles of his back.
He released her head, one hand shifting to cover her breast, the other to cup her backside. She forgot to breathe as his thumb brushed over her nipple through her dress. She moaned, and he used his grip on her butt to hold her as he ground himself against her. Wet heat throbbed between her thighs, beating out a demanding tattoo.
“Maddy,” he whispered, his French accent very pronounced.
He nudged one strap then the other off her shoulders. She felt the coolness of the night air on her bare breasts as he pushed her bodice down. And then he was touching her, cupping her, shaping her, his thumb brushing over and over first one nipple then the other.
She gasped, so turned on she could barely stand. She pulled Max’s shirt from his jeans and fumbled for his belt. His hand swept under her skirt. She sucked hard on his bottom lip and slid his zipper down.
Her hand found the hot, hardened length of him just as his closed over the fullness of her butt cheek. He squeezed her once, then slid his hand lower, fingers delving between her legs. Her hand closed convulsively around his thick shaft as his fingers brushed the damp satin of her panties.
“So wet,” he whispered roughly.
Then suddenly she was against the wall. Her heart leaped with excitement as Max fisted his hand in the elastic of her panties and pulled. They gave easily and he hitched one of her knees over his hip before both hands found her bare backside. He lifted her and she guided his hardness to her entrance with a shaking, desperate hand even as she locked her ankles together around his waist.
She gasped as he plunged inside her to the hilt. It was almost painful he was so big, but as soon as he began to move, pleasure vibrated through her body in overwhelming waves.
“So good,” she murmured, throwing her head back. “So good.”
He tightened his grip and began to pump into her in earnest. The slick length of him sliding in and out of her, the granite hardness of his body straining toward hers, the demanding passion of his kisses—she couldn’t get enough of him. Then he lowered his head and sucked a nipple into his mouth. His tongue teased, taunted. She dug her fingers into his shoulders and offered him everything she had.
Tension spiraled tight inside her. Sensation rippled through her body. It was all so good. Any second now she would find what her body was chasing. Closing her eyes, she gave herself over to the madness.
SHE WAS INCREDIBLE. So tight and hot and wet. Each thrust into her body, each taste of her sweet nipples, each moan that eased from her throat pushed him nearer to the edge. She was everything he’d ever imagined and more. So soft, her skin so silken, the muscles beneath so sleek and strong.
He couldn’t get enough. She felt so good, so right. He wanted to stay inside her forever, but he also wanted to lose himself, to make her lose herself.
He switched his attention from her left breast to her right. Her nipple was already sitting up, begging for his attention. She was the sexiest woman in the world.
He pulled her nipple into his mouth, sucked on it hard. She started to pant. He soothed his tongue over her, then bit her gently. She gasped and writhed. She was close. He could feel her tightening around him. He stepped up the pace, plunging in and out of her, holding on, holding on, no matter how tight and wet she felt, no matter how badly he wanted to find his own climax.
She started to shudder. Her head fell back on her neck. He switched focus to her other breast, sucked hard on her nipple, laving it all the while with his tongue. Her whole body tensed, her spine arching, her hips pushing toward him. Then she was pulsating around him, her inner muscles throbbing.
He gave up the fight to hang on. She was too much. Too hot, too slick and needy and tight. He groaned as his climax roared through him. He nestled his face into her neck, inhaling the scent of her as pleasure washed through his body.
Maddy. So beautiful.