Her Marine Bodyguard by Heather Long

She tumbled along a lazy river of pleasure.
    The faint rub of his cheek on her inner thigh gave her the only warning she had before his mouth fastened on her clit. The slow drift became a raging rapid, and she catapulted from one explosive orgasm to the next. Fisting the blankets, she tried to hold back her shout, then he vibrated his tongue and the world splintered. She bucked under his mouth, and he kept her where he wanted. Though she floated down, little sparks sizzling through her system, he continued to nuzzle and lick along the seam of her labia, returning time and again to tease her clit.
    Surely he was ready, but no—he seemed utterly content to continue exploring her sex with the same thoroughness he’d applied to her injuries, teasing her to the brink before easing her back again and again. He seemed determined to drag this out, and she twisted slightly, trying to see him. The sight of his dark head moving against her sex was nearly as erotic as the feeling of his tongue thrusting into her. No, he wouldn’t be hurried.
    As if sensing her thoughts, he glanced up and met her gaze. Something inside her softened further, and her thighs clenched as he swirled his tongue. Nothing mattered when they were together. Nothing. Not her stalker. Not the military. Not all the months and distance that had separated them. The heat in his eyes burned all the rest to ash.
    With a kiss to her inner thigh, he lifted his head. “What are you thinking about?”
    “You,” she admitted with a sigh. It didn’t matter that he’d already given her an orgasm, she was still hungry for him. The need to have him zinged through her system, an electric tingle racing along her spine. Could he see what he did to her?
    “I want to play with you for hours,” he said, dragging a finger through her labia again. “I want to see you come over and over. Do you have any idea how fucking gorgeous you are when you cry out?”
    She believed him. “Anything you want.” Anything. If he wanted to keep her on the edge for hours, fine. If he wanted to melt her into a puddle of wanton need, she could take it, too. Adoration shone in his hard face.
    “Be careful,” he teased, but the way he said the two words held as much joy as they did warning. “I’ll take everything.”
    “Yeah?” She didn’t believe him. He gave everything, too.
    “Oh, yeah.” And he licked her from her entrance to her clit and down again, never once looking away. The naked desire in his eyes made her heart skip a beat, and she didn’t try to suppress the low throaty cry as he continued to torment her sensitive flesh.
    “Yes,” she called out as he locked his lips around her clit and sucked it hard against his teeth. The pressure built up to an almost unbearable level, then he backed off again and she shook with both laughter and frustration. “Anything you want.”
    Anything. Everything. She wanted to give it all to him. Every night she went to bed and hoped she would dream of him—because in her dreams she could wake in his arms, feel his hands on her, and know absolute security with him. If she wanted to play, he would lie still for her and let her explore his body, do whatever she wanted. He was her toy and her canvas—how could she be any less?
    “Don’t move.” He rose so swiftly she wanted to keen from his absence. The world seemed so much colder and lonelier without him.
    Obeying him didn’t mean she couldn’t watch. He walked back into the bathroom, returning seconds later, a foil package in hand. Standing at the foot of the bed, he stared at her. The intensity in his attention seemed to stroke over her even though he didn’t touch.
    Stretching, she held her hand out to him, beckoning him with a curl of her fingers. “I won’t break. I promise.”
    “You break me.”
    The confession tightened the fist around her heart.
    “Then I’ll put you back together again,” she promised. “Come with me, Brody.”
    He ripped the foil and rolled the condom on