All Through the Night by Shannon McKenna, Lori Foster, Suzanne Forster, Thea Devine

knees at his head. Her panties and robe were gone now, draped over the rocker, but she was still wearing her tank top, and her breasts were hotly excited. It was sheer nervous anticipation. He hadn’t even touched her there, and yet her nipples were flushed and taut. Every shiver rustled the silky tank top against her skin. Every shiver set her more on edge.
He spread her open above him with his fingers, and then he inched her legs wider and wider, bringing her down to his mouth. The tension was fierce and wonderful. Her thighs shook as he tongued her softly and with the eloquence of a maestro. She raised her arms above her and cried out softly, barely aware of how she must look, like a penitent, begging for mercy.
The first orgasm that shook her brought her to her hands and knees. By the second, she couldn’t control the tremors anymore. She crumpled to her elbows and then fell onto her side, next to him. He gathered her close with his arm, and she drifted off, into some kind of ecstasy, floating… floating. Some time later she felt him easing from beneath her. ■‘ She drifted again, and when she awoke next, she was aware that he had rolled her onto her stomach, and that he was above her, possibly even astride her, whispering into her hair.
“Stay just as you are,” he said, “I’m going to take you this way.”
Somewhere inside Kerry was a barely discernible bleat of alarm. It was a frantic little sound that brought Jean close, whispering and touching her soothingly. Apparently he thought he’d frightened her. And he had. But she was also stirred to the depths of her being.
Kerry wondered if she was still breathing.
He moved over her, and his weight awakened something primitive within her, a mating response. His hands were in the hair at her nape, lifting, sifting. It was glorious. She felt his hardness pressing into her thigh and she responded helplessly, lifting her hips in enticement. It was an involuntary response. She wanted him in the most ancient, urgent way a female can want a male. She wanted him there, now, deeply and fast.
She heard the soft whine of a zipper being opened, and her whole body contracted. The familiar feel of denim against her bare legs told her that he hadn’t removed his clothes—and that he wasn’t going to. This was more than an act of possession, it was ravishment, and he was neither a highwayman nor a slave. He was a phantom lover who would steal his way into her heart, as well as her body. He would hold her in thrall until he’d stolen everything… even her naked, quaking soul. Especially that.
“Stay just as you are,” he whispered again. “Utterly still.”
She tried, but it was nearly impossible not to quiver as he brushed his lips over her uptilted derriere. A hand slipped through the seam of her thighs and lightly caressed her where she was hot and tingling. Wetness gushed at his touch, and nothing more was needed. She was wild to be entered.
“Rock back as if you were still in the chair,” he told her.
He guided her with his hands, and she did exactly as he said. She swung her hips and tasted ecstasy. Tasted him.
He took her there, now, deeply… and slow.
It was the sweetest pressure in life, a sensation of being possessed and released all at once. Kerry surrendered herself with barely a whimper, shuddering helplessly at the lush thrill of penetration. He thrust into her reaches as smoothly as a hand into a snug velvet glove, and she tightened immediately. Tightened and quivered at the same time. Possessed and released at the same time . From the moment he entered her, she was floating in a sea of sensation, a shimmering world of light and sound.
It was delirious. She made pleading noises, unable to help herself. He was weight and darkness and the source of all pleasure. He was everything at that moment. She would be nothing without him. He couldn’t leave her. This couldn’t end. Even as the floodtide hit her and she knew that she was in the last throes, that