Spellbound by Emmie Dark Page A

heavy gasps.
    Belle was flooded with something she could only call happiness. She’d brought him as much pleasure as he’d brought her; he’d moaned her name when he’d come. That was the first time any man had done that, as far as she could remember. It was a powerful feeling. She felt sexy and confident.
    Raising her arms to the jet of water from the shower, Belle twisted slightly in Nick’s embrace to sluice the soap from her body. She was ready to return to bed and find out how quickly Nick could recover.
    ‘Not so fast,’ Nick murmured. Using those strong arms of his, he repositioned her so her back was to his chest, the shower raining down directly on her breasts. The way he could move her around like that, put her body where he wanted it, made her feel both vulnerable and feminine, and a swell of emotion rushed through her, feelings that had nothing to do with the fact that his hands were working on her: one on her breast, the other between her legs.
    He kissed her shoulder, then her neck, then nuzzled against her ear, taking her earlobe into his mouth for a brief suck.
    ‘You’re all hard and soft,’ he whispered in her ear. ‘Your nipples are like firm little blueberries, but your breasts are so beautifully soft.’ He demonstrated his words by first cupping her breast and squeezing it, then taking her nipple between his thumb and forefinger and giving it a gentle twist. Belle’s breath caught when his hand moved to give her other breast the same treatment.
    ‘And your skin, here ,’ he tapped the fingers of his other hand lightly against the juncture where her thigh met her hip, ‘is so soft and smooth, like butter. And you’re all soft here too,’ he murmured, his fingers moving to cup her mound. His middle finger pressed against the entrance to her vagina and then slid upwards, parting her slit until he pressed against the nub of her clit. ‘Except for this bit, here .’ Belle let out a whimper as his finger circled her and then slipped over the tip of her clit once more.
    ‘You got all wet from touching me, didn’t you, sweetheart?’ He left her clit to slide just the tip of his finger inside her, pushing in and out in a maddeningly unsatisfying rhythm. Belle fought to stay upright as the assault on her senses continued. Nick’s voice in her ear, his breath and lips and stubble tickling her; his hand on her breast, cupping and squeezing; the hot, constant pulse of the shower on her chest and belly; the steamy vanilla-and-Nick-scented air; the pressure and heat of Nick’s fingers where he explored her so intimately. Her knees threatened to buckle.
    ‘I don’t think it would take much to tip you over the edge,’ Nick continued whispering into her ear. ‘Would it, Belle? Are you about to come? Are you going to come for me?’
    Her only answer was a sobbing breath of unspoken pleading; she was desperate for him to take his teasing touches to the next level and let her body complete the journey.
    His finger left off its teasing thrusts and returned to her clit, stroking firmly up and down, driving her instantly to the brink. Belle shuddered and gripped her hands into fists. She couldn’t come just like that, with only thirty seconds of pressure on her clit; that wasn’t how her body worked.
    ‘It’s okay, sweetheart, I’ve got you. Let go.’
    And then, beyond her control, her clit pulsed against Nick’s finger and she cried out, a nonsensical sound of bliss. Her head fell back onto his shoulder and she lost all capacity for rational thought as her body contracted and released. Nick kept up the pressure, drawing out her orgasm until she almost lost her mind. All the while he muttered reassuring, sexy things in her ear.
    Finally the waves began to recede and Belle sucked in a shaking, sobbing breath. He let go of her breast and instead wrapped his arm around her ribcage, holding her tight as if she were in danger of falling over. Which, Belle figured vaguely, was a distinct possibility