The Charmer (Harbor City 2)

He raised his arms without her even asking, and she pushed the sweater higher, relishing the sight of his muscular chest revealed inch by inch as she raised it over his head and then let it drop to the floor. God, he was beautiful. He was all hard planes, solid muscle, and hunger—for her.

“And us getting naked,” he said as he wrapped the fingers of one hand around her wrists, stopping her from unbuttoning his jeans. “What’s that going to teach me?”

Lifting herself up on her tiptoes, she leaned against him, pressing her breasts against his chest as she cupped his hardness through his jeans and squeezed. “How to let go.”

Chapter Fifteen

Hudson had seen the Mona Lisa up close. He’d spent hours in front of Botticelli’s Birth of Venus and countless other paintings lauded for their beauty and sex appeal. None of it came close to seeing Felicia standing in her red lace bra and thong in the middle of the cabin’s kitchen, lit only by the light from the emergency lantern.

“So you really think you can teach me something?” he asked, surprised he was even able to form words, as dry as his mouth had gone at the sight of her.

“I learned from the best,” she said, trailing her fingertip across the line of his collarbone—a part of his anatomy he’d never considered a turn-on until now. “First, you want to flirt.”

“Are you going to try an ant pickup line on me?”

“No.” She dipped her head and lapped at his nipple, sending a shot of lust straight to his already hard dick. “I’m going to flirt without words.”

“And…” The teasing comment he had lined up turned to chalk in his mouth when she climbed up on the foot rungs of the barstool before straddling him.

The move put her tits right in line with his mouth as she held on to the chair back behind him. Her puckered nipples pushing against the lace was more temptation than even a much better man than he could take. He drew the hard nub into his mouth, sucking hard through the lace and grazing the sensitive spot with his teeth. Her moan of appreciation was punctuated by the palm of her hand on his forehead pushing him away.

She made a tsk-tsk sound as she kissed her way down his neck. “I’ll take questions and comments at the end of my presentation.”

God. That wasn’t fair. It was hot as hell, but not fair in the least. He didn’t give a shit. If the world’s sexiest woman wanted to torment him by turning him on, then so be it. “So, I’m in the strip club champagne room where there’s no touching?”

“In an academic sense.” She lowered herself to his lap and rocked her core against his cock. “No kissing. No licking. No sucking. And your hands should be on your chair.”

He gripped the bar stool’s seat, the edge of the metal underside digging into his palm he held on so tight. “I hope you remember the difference between flirting and taunting.”

She ground herself against him with enough pressure to be both heaven and hell. “You should, because by the time I’m done with my skills presentation, you’re going to be desperate.”

She thought he wasn’t already there? He had an almost completely naked woman—scratch that, a nearly naked Felicia—on his lap grinding on him, and he couldn’t touch her. He did not want to play this game, touching her was pretty much all he thought about lately, but all it took was one look at the challenge in her blue eyes and he gave in. She must have sensed it because she took off her glasses and set them on the island.

Her hands went to the front clasp of her bra. “Close your eyes.”

Every instinct in him screamed in protest. “But I want to watch you.”

One side of her mouth curled up in a sassy smirk. “Later.”

Resigned to the fact that he’d created a sexy, teasing monster, he closed his eyes.

…

Having Hudson like this was as much of a power rush as that first blowjob. He sat still below her, his eyes closed as he breathed in a steady, controlled rate—but not for long.

She traced her fingers across the tops of his shoulders and down the outsides of his arms, relishing the feel of him as his biceps bunched with the effort it was obviously taking him not to let go of the stool. But he held on just like she knew he would—no matter what else anyone could say about Hudson Carlyle, he aimed to please. Tonight, though, was about him experiencing every touch and lick for himself just like he’d helped her that first night. Right now, it was time for the teacher to be the student.

“What do you want me to touch first?” she asked, giving in to temptation and kissing her way up the corded length of his neck.

“Is my dick out of the question?”

She rocked against the hard length of him. “Is that what you mean?”

“I’m a simple guy. I just want your sweet mouth on me.”

She stepped down to the ground, standing between his splayed legs, dropped her fingers to the button of his jeans and popped it open. “Lift your hips.”

“Just like that? You’re not going to warm me up first?” he teased.