The Thorndyke Trilogy 2: Dancing at Midnight Read Online Free PDF

you doing here? Naked?” He’d come into her bedroom naked? What was she thinking?
    He glanced up, and he almost smiled, the corners of his eyes crinkling slightly. “I went out on the balcony to check the snow, and the door slammed shut behind me. I saw yours open and heard you in the bathroom. I thought I could make it through your room before you got out of the tub.”
    Did she believe him? Or was he lurking around, waiting for her to leave the bathroom? No, she couldn’t believe this man was ever short of sex partners or needed to stoop to such tricks. And the state of his dick told her how much he wanted her. It reared up, insistent and strong.
    And big.
    That wouldn’t stop her for a minute. She couldn’t wait to feel it inside her, as deep as it would go.
    He made a sound in his throat that sounded like a growl. “Gorgeous. Luscious, open, pink .”
    Reaching down, she spread her labia, blatantly displaying her pussy. “Better?”
    “Oh yes. And I love the nude look.”
    She was a dancer, often required to wear skimpy costumes. She shaved—or waxed when she had the cash to get it done. Sliding a finger down her inner crease, she paused at her entrance.
    With a swiftness that made her gasp, he snared her wrist, his hold firm enough to stop her, not enough to mark. A flicker of wildness entered his gaze and then left.
    “I’ll do that,” he said, his voice so low and rough it made her shudder. He leaned forward with a grace she associated with her profession, making her wonder anew what it was actually that he did, but only for a moment before his tongue touched her clit.
    The slight connection made her cry out. Then she instinctively clutched his hair. Holding on, she rode the first waves of her arousal—not yet orgasm but so close that the only way she told the difference was the hunger that remained inside her.
    He licked, twined his tongue around her clit, and sucked. He must be using his fingers . But no, he was supporting his position, one hand on her thigh, another palm down on the bed next to her. Just a very talented man.
    He devoured her as if he needed her juices to survive, thrust his tongue deep inside her cunt. So deep her eyes rolled back in her head. “Fuck, you’re good at this!”
    He drew away, studied the result of his tonguing. Then lifted his hand off the bed and traced her pussy, slowly, from opening to clit, around and down the other side. He pushed barely in, just the tip of his forefinger. “So they tell me.”
    “Fuck me,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper.
    But he heard. Taking a small detour to the bedside table, he opened the top drawer and retrieved a condom. “Everything’s catered for.”
    “What if you have children stay over?” Wouldn’t they object to condoms in the drawers?
    “I never do.”
    That sounded sad. Did he have no relatives with children, no siblings? She shouldn’t ask or get curious about him. He was a man, no more—a man here just to indulge in a little mutual pleasure. Not someone she expected to have any kind of relationship with, now or in the future.
    He was the best specimen of mankind she’d come across in a long time, and she wanted him for herself, at least for the next half hour. Longer, maybe.
    There it was again, a flash of blue on his thigh. She’d get to see that tattoo up close soon. She’d make sure of it.
    He grinned as he planted his hands on either side of her and eased her back onto the soft, deep-pink coverlet on the bed. “I knew this color would suit you.” He touched her hair, still damp. “Like I knew your hair would slip like silk between my fingers.”
    Shit, she was right. That smile devastated her. It took every other smile she’d ever seen and added perfection.
    “Enough with the compliments.” She wasn’t sure she was comfortable with his praise. She just wanted the solace of another body. “Come on. Remind me I’m still alive.”
    “Oh, I’ll do better than that.”
    When he slid against