Gemini Heat by Portia Da Costa Read Free Book Online Page A

kissed you yet.'
    All this was whispered against her cheek, the instant before he inclined her face towards him and word became deed.
    Without conscious thought, Delia opened her lips beneath his for that first sweet foray into her mouth. His tongue was cool, moist and flexible inside her hot wetness, and she met it immediately and boldly. As their mouths duelled, she let her mind run ahead, imagining the taste of his skin and his sex. She imagined every intimate flavour and texture of his body, then felt his hands - both of them - take an imperious hold of her jacket lapels and slide the garment down off her.
    Pinioned like a slave-girl, her arms were caught against her sides while her throat, her shoulders and her breasts were his to command. Somewhere in her fantasy, his tongue pushed in deeper and subdued hers - while his fingers took possession of her breasts. Delicately, almost tentatively, he pinched her nipples and rolled them this way and that. An exquisite tugging pressure shot straight to the tip of her clitoris and as he pulled at her sensitised teats, her vulva throbbed out its answer. The flesh down there was so excited she almost climaxed without contact.
    She wanted to cry out his name, call him 'Your Highness', 'My Liege' and a million other fantasy titles but her mouth was stuffed with his tongue. Pushing her body towards him, she offered him her breasts more freely.
    Her offer was instantly taken. With the deftness of great experience, he flicked down the spaghetti straps of her camisole top and exposed her. Delia gasped then, aware of the preposterousness of what was happening to her. They were sitting before a blind-less window in broad daylight; this office was unlocked and open to any intrusion; a secretary or typist could walk in at any second . . . and she was being kissed and her breasts were naked.
    'But Mr de Guile,' she murmured against his mouth, her own vulnerability thrilling her. He was still fully and immaculately dressed while she was bared to the waist, her arms virtually immobilised by her own bunched-up clothing.
    'My name is "Jake"/ he said, swooping down and putting his lips to one swollen breast, "Jake",' he repeated, taking the nipple between his straight white teeth and biting it ever-so-gently.
    Delia's hips bucked towards him, the movement involuntary, her whole sex shimmering with soft, wet tremors of yearning. She wanted fingers down there, touching and pressing. A tongue licking ... A cock pushing and stretching . . . Anything. Anything of his, there between her legs to assuage her roaring hunger. And as he chewed delicately on her stiff, sensitive nipple, she moaned and wriggled, her bottom sliding helplessly on the leather of the sofa.
    'Patience.' His breath fanned her breast. 'We won't be disturbed. There's plenty of time. And there's so much I want to do to you.' He shifted his mouth to her other nipple, first sucking, then blowing, using his tongue to anoint the dimpled aureole with saliva, then flick at the peak itself.
    The pleasure was very precisely granted, very carefully measured; an exercise in building arousal and raising it to a new and as yet unachieved height. Until now, Delia had always coasted during sex, accepting stimulation as it arrived. She'd never thirsted and craved as she did now; never needed a man's touch so desperately that she thought she might die if she didn't get it. Needed it like a junkie needed dope . . . Never before had her breasts and vulva ached like fire, gnawed from within because she wanted every sexual part of her to be caressed and sucked and fondled all at once and as roughly and savagely as possible.
    With a final sequence of long cat-like tongue strokes, de Guile made both her breasts wet all over, then lifted his head and reached out to take hold of her hands.
    'Hold yourself, Dee,' he ordered quietly, shaping her fingers with his, and fitting them around her own body. She felt uncomfortable, and hindered by the tangled jacket,