Easing back from his throbbing cock and intoxicating kiss, she fought to steady her breathing and get the world back on an even keel.
“Close.” He flipped her around so her back pressed flat against the wall, cupped her ass, and lifted her until she had no choice but to wrap her legs around his narrow waist. “But let me show you how it’s really done.”
His dick rocked against the crotch of her soaked panties, slow and steady, so unlike her heartbeat. He didn’t seek out her kiss-swollen mouth, instead he zeroed in on the base of her throat, sucking and nipping at the sensitive flesh. Her moan escaped before she could even attempt to hold it back, the fire burning through her too fast and hot to deny.
He licked his way up her throat, bringing his mouth against her ear. “You make me so fucking hard.” He ground his cock against her, squeezing her ass cheeks in his firm grip. “This is what you do to me every time I so much as think about you. And if I don’t stop, I’m going to come in my boxers instead of buried deep inside you, which is the only place in the world I want to be right now.”
Reason exploded into a pile of well-intentioned ash. Her body was about to get what it so desperately wanted. “Put me down.”
He stilled against her, their position as intimate as it could be with her still in panties and him in the sarong clinging for dear life to his hips. He knocked his forehead against the wall but released his hold.
She glided down his body until her feet touched the tile, icy cold compared to the heat roiling through her body, and pushed him back several paces so that the back of his knees nearly hit the bed. Not giving him time to recover, she swept her leg behind his and knocked him down onto the pale blue comforter. The air in his lungs whooshed out. Another man, she might have worried about, but Devin played—and worked out—just as hard as she did.
One hard yank, and his sarong joined hers in the corner. Another tug, and his boxers followed suit. He lay flat on his back, never moving a muscle while she stripped him, but the look in his light brown eyes was anything but docile. He deliberately slid his right hand across the tribal design covering his pecs, over the flat landscape of his abs and stopped only when he wrapped his long fingers around the base of his shaft.
“I think you need more practice to perfect your kissing skills.” The devilish gleam in his eyes dared her to make the next move as he rubbed his cock in long, slow strokes.
Her nipples were hard enough to rip through the thin cotton of her tank top, and the urge to sink to her knees and follow the movement of his hands with her tongue hit with the force of a semi plowing into a plywood derby cart. But a single shred of self-preservation held her back. Her game. Her way.
Determined to maintain the upper hand, she strutted to the edge of the bed, lowered herself, and planted her knees on either side of his corded thighs. She wrapped her hands around his wrists and brought them up over his head as she crawled over him.
“Be a good boy and you might get your wish.” She ran her hands down his tattooed arms, keeping herself positioned so that her center hovered directly above his hard cock but didn’t touch it. “I could spend hours just tasting you. The question is, where to lick first?”
She lowered her head to his pecs and traced the round lines of ink that ended like the yellow brick road at his nipple. She lapped at the flat, dusky nub, drawing him into her mouth and sucking.
His moan echoed in the room, and he wriggled beneath her, bringing his dick into direct contact with her.
Releasing him and raising herself higher, she flicked his nipple and then followed her hands as they traveled up his arms and wrapped around his wrists. The position resulted in her still hidden breasts dangling an inch above his panting mouth, his humid breaths pushing the well-worn material against her overheated flesh. Teasing him had become her own torture.
He angled his head up, sucking her breast through the tank top, engulfing the small mound into his mouth. His tongue circled her almost painfully hard nipple.
“You’re not being a very good boy right now.” Her voice shook almost as much as her thighs.
“That”—he broke free of her grasp—”is because”—he gripped her hips, rolled her over, and took up residence between her splayed legs—”I’m not good.” He grasped the thin cotton material of her tank top. “And I’m definitely not a boy.” He yanked the black cloth, ripping it in half and exposing her breasts to his feasting eyes. “Sweet God, woman, you are going to be the death of me.”
The reverence in his eyes as he stared down at her shifted something deep inside, and an emotion as close to shyness as she’d ever experienced tickled up from her toes. Her hands itched to cover herself as she lay open and vulnerable beneath him. Then he lowered his lips to hers, and every thought evaporated.
His tongue swept inside her mouth, teasing her until she was a writhing mix of want and need. She ran her hands up his thighs, the curly, coarse hair springing against her palm, and didn’t stop until she had both hands on his firm ass. Pulling him downward, she refused to stop until his cock lay nestled against her core, the damn panties blocking his entrance.
His hands were everywhere at once, caressing her breasts, skimming across her stomach, and finding their way between her panties and her silky folds. He dipped a finger into her entrance, his thumb circling her attention-starved clit, and her spine bowed so sharply she almost bounced him off the bed.
He regained his balance and his mouth found a home, kissing its way from her right nipple to her belly button.
“I want to rip these silky things off you, too.”
“How about you just take them off, instead?”
He answered with a growl and dipped his head lower, taking the elastic band of her panties between his teeth and dragging them down her legs. Pushing her legs back open as wide as they could go, he kissed and licked his way up her calves and thighs, not stopping until he arrived at the center of her need, where his tongue and fingers worked in concert. Her thighs trembled as the tension within her tightened, blocking out everything except his mind-blowing efforts between her legs. Then, her muscles locked and she came undone.
“I want to be inside you so bad it’s killing me, but I don’t have a condom.”
“Not a—” She swallowed the word “problem.” She always kept a condom in her wallet. For her, it was just wise planning, but some men would get all judgmental about a woman being proactive. Not that they thought bad things about themselves when they shoved a condom in their wallet.
But Devin had already proven himself different from most of the men she’d dated, and really, did she even care what he thought of her? It wasn’t like there was relationship potential here. Extending her arm, she swiped her wallet off the bedside table and took out the condom. The foil package glimmered in the honeymoon suite’s dim light.
“If you weren’t on this whole no-commitments-for-a-year thing, I’d be down on one knee right now.” He nuzzled her neck.
“Watch out, soon enough you might be, anyway.”