Burned. Part 8

“James.” She whispered his name, her voice rough, pleading as she caught his hands when they moved to the band of her panties. “I can’t…” She couldn’t finish the sentence, couldn’t force the words past her lips.

“Can’t what, baby?” he asked her gently, his fingers hooking in the elastic, pulling her panties down, away from her weak grip. “Can’t lay back and feel good for me? Can’t see if what we’ve waited for all these years isn’t as good as our imaginations? Why can’t you do that?”

He was hypnotizing her, she thought desperately. Stealing her will with the sound of his deep, rough voice. Making her crazy for him with that dark, hooded look.

She trembled as he removed the scrap of silk then spread her legs wider. All the while he watched her from the side of the lounger, his chest moving hard and fast, as he seemed to fight for breath himself, his eyes darkening lustfully.

“Damn, Ella, you’re prettier than I ever imagined.” His hand moved up her thigh until his fing