Wilder by Christina Dodd

Author:Christina Dodd [Dodd, Christina]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
ISBN: 9780451413246
Amazon: 0451413245
Publisher: Signet Select
Published: 2012-08-06T14:00:00+00:00

Chapter 31

Guardian followed Charisma, but slowly, waiting for that moment when she climbed the stairs, watching as she lifted each stiletto-clad foot, observing as each time her skirt hitched up a little.

He didn’t need to see what was or wasn’t beneath her skirt. Knowing she was bare, that no barrier existed between her pussy and his touch, fired his imagination. All the way through dinner, he had been plagued with fantasies that kept him hard and frustrated him at the same time.

He knew she had given him a lot to think about; the information about Aleksandr Wilder felt real, important, worth investigating.

But nothing was as important as taking her into his arms and—

High on the stairway, with one foot resting on one step and the other on the step below, she turned and asked, “Aren’t you coming?”

“Not yet,” he muttered. “But it’s a close thing.” He ran up the stairs after her.

When he got to the bedroom alcove, she stood behind the old-fashioned brocade-upholstered rocking chair. She was smiling. “Here,” she said. “Sit.”

He frowned. This was not what he had planned.

But she beckoned and pointed, and he obeyed.

For him, with his long legs and broad shoulders, the chair was uncomfortable. The seat was low to the ground, and narrow. The back was high, tall enough to support his head. There were no arms, no place to put his hands.

But when Charisma came around to face him, and bent and kissed him, and slipped her tongue into his mouth, then leisurely sucked on his tongue . . . he suddenly had a place for his hands. He cupped her breasts and pressed them through the slippery red satin, feeling the lace that supported them, the hardening nipples that invited his mouth. Putting his fingers to the top button of her blouse, he opened it to her waist, and pulled away to enjoy the view.

Her breasts were small, firm, the skin pale through the red lace, and those nipples . . . what a beautiful pink, like two small rosebuds. “Come here,” he whispered.

“Why, Mr. Guardian, whatever do you have in mind?”

He pulled on her waist.

She put her hand on his chest to stop him. “I have an idea.” She sank onto her knees in front of him. “Let’s do something new, shall we?” Putting her hands on his tunic, she pushed it up over his knees, over his thighs, and slowly, slowly pulled it along his erection. Each movement of the silky material caressed and tormented, and when she bared him to the open air, she smiled and cooed, “Look at that. You’re asking for a kiss.”

He wanted to moan at the thought.

She placed her hands on his thighs, leaned forward, and took him into her mouth.

And he lost his breath. He lost his mind. He couldn’t move, caught in the exquisite agony of her full lips massaging the length of his cock, her wet tongue working the head, her breath, warm and moist, adding an erotic balance to the torment.

He wanted to come there, now, in her mouth.

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