Chapter Three Hundred and Fourty
Hands grasping his shoulders, Emma eased down his length, and though the drugging pleasure had his eyes nearly closing to savor the tight, smooth fit of her sex, he kept his attention on her.
Because nothing—not the rippling clasp of her body, the quiver of her thighs, the sight of her taking him—could compare with the slight widening and darkening of those beautiful eyes.
Those eyes conveyed how much she craved him, needed him.
Those eyes gave him all of her. And he wanted it all.
Except for the very fine tremble of his tautly controlled muscles, he held completely still. Allowing her to claim him at her own pace. Even if each second she took to inch down threatened to send him careening into insanity or orgasm—whichever came first.
Finally, she sat on his thighs, and he was fully embedded inside her. And still he wouldn’t free her from his gaze. Not when, in this moment, sur-rounded by her sweet flesh, everything seemed clicked into place.