On the Steamy Side by Louisa Edwards Read Free Book Online

hands flew to steady her hips as Lilah wobbled and would’ve tumped right over at the overwhelming sensation of being impaled.

    “Oh, like that, yes,” he moaned, his mouth hot and sharp against the nape of her neck, and Lilah shivered and relaxed around him.

    Not sure where to rest her hands, she let them fall to the tops of his hairy thighs on either side of her.
    He didn’t seem to have any such trouble; his hands roamed freely up her quivering sides and around her heaving ribcage, weighing her breasts and testing the resilience of her sensitive nipples with gentle tweaks. Lilah couldn’t make her hips be still. Her inner muscles clenched and released, and when he pinched her nipples again, the tide of pleasure snatched her up and wrung her out, climax breaking over her like a wave.

    When her body went limp, he petted his way down her arms, lifting the useless noodles to link behind his neck. Lilah drowsed, content as a cat, and let him arrange her like a doll.

    His . . . cock—she forced herself to think the word, getting a little thrill of naughtiness from it—was still as hard as ever, an iron rod deep inside her that teased and tormented with short, pulsing thrusts that wouldn’t let her arousal die.

    He smoothed his hands down her body again, almost like he was sculpting her, until his hard palms wrapped around her trembling flanks.

    “Ready?” he asked.

    Before Lilah could summon the brainpower to ask what she was supposed to be ready for, he lifted and spread her thighs wide, settling them again on either side of his legs. Her toes left the floor and all her weight pressed into his lap, sending his cock harder and higher into her body. Lilah gasped, her nerve endings sparking and firing, desire mounting again.

    In this position, every minute shift of his hips made her sob out a breath, the sensation so intense she was hardly aware of it as pleasure. His hands returned to her breasts, warm and smooth and sure, and the counterpoint made Lilah feel utterly taken and surrounded by him.

    Every feeling his long, deft fingers, wicked mouth, and steadily pumping hips gave her swirled together into a maelstrom of light and color. Lilah lost track of time. She lost track of herself. She knew nothing but the way he played her body.

    When she came the second time, it was slower, more excruciating, pulses and tremors that felt endless and overpowering. His hoarse cries echoed off the shower walls, his hands went rigid and still—and then they both hung there, gasping in the cooling fall of water.

CHAPTER FIVE
    When Devon walked into Market, he didn’t necessarily expect to be greeted with a red carpet and a phalanx of trumpeting heralds.

    Sure, he’d become used to a certain level of fawning admiration over the years of his meteoric rise to fame and fortune as the darling of the gourmet food world and the Cooking Channel’s biggest star.
    That, plus his undeniably perfect face, was usually enough to get him the best seats/floor tickets/ungettable reservation. Special attention to his needs and desires was a fact of life.

    Well, most of his life. There were still a few places left in Manhattan he could go to remind himself of what the real world felt like. A certain dive bar on the Lower East Side, for example. And here—at Market, the all-organic hit restaurant owned and run by his former executive chef, Adam Temple.

    Adam was a friend. Or as close to a friend as Devon got these days. And he’d never admit it, but part of why he valued Adam was for exactly that lack of interest in Devon Sparks: Star! When Adam talked to his former boss, Devon felt like . . . Devon Sparks: Talented Chef and Ordinary Guy. Considering he hadn’t been either of those things in a long time, and had worked hard to reach that state of affairs, talking to Adam was usually sort of restful.

    Damned if Devon couldn’t use the rest after yesterday’s hel acious shoot.

    The last shoot before a three-month hiatus, he thought