Authors: Karla Doyle
MoreThanWords (20 page)
“Please…”
He rewarded her good manners by taking one hard bud between
his teeth. She moaned at the sharp zing of pleasure that shot straight between
her legs. His hot, wet mouth closed over her breast, suckling while his teeth
continued their delicious assault.
“Touch me, Travis, make me come.”
A growl vibrated against her breast. He released her nipple,
scooped her up as if she were light as air, and headed for the bedroom. He had
her on her back and both of them divested of clothes before she could catch her
breath.
He moved with grace, stealth and the power of a jungle cat.
“I’ve been thinking about this all week.” His shoulders pushed her thighs
apart. “About you, naked and open for me, like this. The way you taste when I
bury my face between your legs.” And that’s what he did. Covered her with his
mouth, dipped inside her with his tongue, sucked her clit between his lips. “I
could lick you every day and it wouldn’t be enough.”
“You won’t get an argument from me on that.”
“I have six days to make up for—guess we won’t be leaving
this room for a while.” His head dipped again until all she could see were his
eyes, dark with desire and focused on her face. He loved watching her come,
he’d told her, though for all the times he’d brought her to climax, she’d never
been able to keep her eyes open and look into his.
Maybe this time.
He licked her with long, flat swipes before centering his
attention on her clit. He danced circles around it. Teased it with hints of
vibration, humming in satisfaction when she thrust her hips upward in a
physical plea for more.
She wiggled as his fingers entered her. More, deeper, that’s
what she needed. He pushed farther, easing in and out of her while flicking her
clit with his tongue. So good—so very, very good. His pinky joined in, nestling
against her ass, breaching her ever so slightly with each thrust.
“Oh god, that, yes…” She clutched his head, writhing and
moaning through the stars and bright light. “Shit.”
His head jerked up. “Have I lost my touch after a week
away?”
“Your touch is perfect as ever. It’s just—I closed my eyes.
Again.” She felt him smile against her thigh. Saw it in his eyes.
“You always close your eyes. It’s one of the ways I know I’m
hitting the right notes. You’re my sexy angel when you close your eyes and
come. So beautiful.” He licked her sensitive flesh one more time and started to
crawl up, over her body, pausing when his eyes snagged on her newly tattooed
hip. “It’s like mine.”
“Yes and no.” Calli held her breath while he examined it.
She’d had Travis’ tattoo artist modify a section of one of her favorites.
Travis’ forearm had an exquisite dove trapped in a tangle of thorny vines—she’d
traced the scene a hundred times, had it committed to memory. Travis had drawn
it, and though he’d shrugged it off as
just a sketch
when she asked him
about it originally, she knew its meaning as well as he did. In her tattoo, the
dove was free, perched atop those vines with a red rose in its beak.
That she got him so completely, had done this for him, hit
him deep. He kissed the ink first, working his way up until he covered her with
his body.
“Are you upset…about the tattoo?”
One day she’d stop worrying. She’d wake up and realize that
he
was the lucky one, not the other way around. If it took him the rest of their
lives, he’d keep showing her.
He cupped her face in his hands. “I love it. I love you.”
Then he slid home, skin-to-skin inside the sweet embrace of her body, the way
it should be, and had been, since they’d officially moved in together.
Permanent. Committed. Something he’d never experienced until Calli.
“I missed you,” she whispered.
“I almost drove home every night, in the middle of the
night, just to lie next to you, even for a couple of hours.”
She yanked his head down, kissed him as if her life depended
on it. Yeah, he knew that feeling.
He curled his hand under her ass, tilting her hips forward.
His balls snugged-up under his cock. No amount of jerking off made the ache go
away. He needed to fuck
her
. Craved it.
Her
pussy, so tight and
perfect around his cock. Made for him. He couldn’t remember any woman before
her—couldn’t imagine ever wanting anybody else.
Her legs folded around his back as he plunged inside again.
She made that sound, that soft little half-frustrated moan that told him she
wanted to come but couldn’t quite get there. He’d bet she wasn’t aware of the
tell-tale slip. A secret he planned to keep, since it put him a position to be
her hero, over and over again.
He rolled, pulling her on top. He hitched her left leg high
on his hip and maneuvered her right leg between his thighs. She gasped when he
thrust, eyes wide and mouth open.
“You like?” he asked, guiding her down to meet his next
stroke, urging her to grind against him as he filled her, balls-deep.
“Yes, that’s so…just do it again.”
Didn’t have to tell him twice. He thrust again and again,
matching the rhythm she needed. Fighting the building pressure at the base of
his cock.
He watched her mouth open, her bottom lip catch between her
teeth. The dreamy glaze of her eyes as they fluttered half-closed. Her
breathing went shallow and her muscles clenched around his cock. And that other
sound she made, the louder, lower one as she started to come, filled his head.
“Oh fuck, can’t wait…” he rasped as he lost it, and himself,
inside the woman he loved.
He could’ve stayed that way—Calli plastered atop his
body—all night, if not for something digging into his back. He fished around
the bed and came up with the culprit. The ring. She’d removed it in the living
room, now here it was, still off her hand, carving a notch in his shoulder
blade. Time to rectify things.
He flipped them again. She went willingly, as she always did
for him, but twice as readily when she was dopey on orgasm-induced endorphins.
Long dark hair fanned over the pale duvet. Lips rosy from kissing. Two
deep-pink nipples topping two perfect tits. The curve of her waist and hips,
the sweet vee between her legs that tempted him even now, minutes after coming.
And the tattoo. Fucking phenomenal.
“You’re staring.”
“Admiring what’s mine, according to the collar, anyway.” He
held up the ring. “Not according to this, though.”
“I’m sorry.” She reached for it and failed, her hand
trailing slowly down his chest instead. “Ask me again?”
“Touch me like that and I’ll give you anything you want.”
Hell, he’d give her anything and everything, 24/7. She had to know that. He
caught her left hand. Hesitated. Slid it on her ring finger. “Fuck tradition
and diamonds and money in the bank. Marry me now.”
“I don’t need any of those things, only you.”
He lowered himself to his elbows, connecting as much of
their bodies as possible. His smile stretched so wide across his face, it hurt.
“So that’s a yes?”
“Bingo.”
About the Author
As a girl, Karla Doyle tried endlessly to convince her
parents she needed a pet ostrich to ride to the beach. By age ten, she’d drawn
up plans and a budget to build a bathroom in her bedroom closet. (It was a tiny
closet!) While these campaigns and numerous others never came to fruition, her
creativity and imagination were always encouraged. She studied fashion design
in college and worked in that industry for much of her life.
These days, Karla lives a charmed existence. She has two
amazing kids, an incredible (and smokin’ hot) husband and the best friends in
the world. When she’s not writing the sexy stories that swirl around in her
head, you can find her lifting weights at the gym or curled up with a book,
surrounded by a pack of pets.
Karla welcomes comments from readers. You can find her
website and email addresses on her
author bio page
at
www.ellorascave.com
.
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Also by
Karla Doyle
Ellora’s Cave Publishing
More Than Words
ISBN 9781419941450
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
More Than Words Copyright © 2012 Karla Doyle
Edited by Grace Bradley
Cover design by Syneca
Photos: Jeff Thrower/Shutterstock.com
Electronic book publication August 2012
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