No Ordinary Gentleman

“I’m sure you can tell I wasn’t expecting to bring anyone back here.”

The dresser on the other side of the room reflects his neutrality on the subject. Mine, not so much, my cheeks still pink. I try to turn in his arms, not wanting to face my own embarrassment as his arm bands my ribs, drawing my body into his.

Oh, God. He’s so hard.

“Life is like that,” he says softly. “Unpredictable and beautiful, don’t you think?”

My answer is a soft gasp as his fingers tantalise my skin, sliding into my hair to bare my neck.

“One minute you’re drinking coffee, idling away an hour, and the next you’re looking at someone who takes your breath away. Someone beautiful and unpredictable.” I shiver, need blooming deep in my belly. My eyes flutter closed as his lips touch the nape of my neck. “You are a gift.” His fingers stir against my stomach, pulling my tank from my jeans. “And I hope you’ll look to me as yours.”

In the mirror, he drags my tank up and over my head. It drops to the floor, flattening his hand against my belly.

“What are you doing to me?” I whisper, tilting my head to the side to give him more of my neck. My breasts feel heavy from his earlier attentions, and between my legs aches to be filled by the hardness pressed against my lower back.

God, I want him. Want this.

“I’m admiring you,” he says softly, the hot puff of his breath on my neck makes goosebumps dapple my skin. His arms tighten before he angles one to hold my breast as the other slides between my legs. He cups me over my jeans, his long finger pressing against the seam, the heel of his palm adding a delicious layer of friction. “Just look at you.”

It’s strange seeing myself as I do, half undressed, all languid dark eyes as I revel in his hold. In his possession. As his arm flexes, muscles and tendons shift and ripple against my bare skin.

“You’re exquisite.” His reflection rakes over mine, slow and steady. A look that says he owns me. A reflection that confirms as my hips jerk against him, my nipples hardening in response to his fingertips.

“Please, touch me.” My pulse races, and my words are a bare rasp as I turn my face from the mirror, looping my hand over his neck. I pull his mouth to mine, though he keeps our kiss chaste. In contrast to the way he holds me. I pull harder, opening my mouth fully on his, swallowing his low groan of surprise as he turns me in his embrace. The touch of his gaze dances over the wings of my collarbones, his gaze darkly dilated as it dips to the valley between my breasts.

“You turn pink with arousal,” he murmurs absently, tracing the path of his gaze. It’s not something I can or want to discount. “As well as embarrassment.” He glances up from beneath thick, dark lashes, the look anything but coy. “Who knew there was a perverse kind of pleasure to be gained from watching you turn red. Wondering how far those blushes run.”

“And now you know.”

“Not quite. But I’m about to find out.”

My bra comes loose, spiking in my veins as he bends to trail the flat of his tongue across each of my nipples in turn. I feed my hands into his hair as his tongue swirls and his fingers tease. He sucks, his teeth graze, his actions rougher than anything I’ve ever experienced.

Rougher. Better. Real. They match the tide of desperation swelling through me.

“Oh, God!” I tighten my grip on his hair, wanting to share this pleasure/pain, this perfect agony as I begin to move backwards towards the bed.

Or I would if he would let me.

“Not yet.”

His hands tighten on my hips as does his mouth on my breast, his body an elegant arch before me.

“I want . . .” I need so much as fevered sensations swell through my skin, my ragged breaths loud to my ears as his mouth hungrily devours me, his hands and his actions keeping me in place.

“This. You want this.” His hands slip to my behind, pulling me into his body, soft meeting hard where he rocks into me, his hands preventing any kind of escape. Not that I was going anywhere.

“Yes. Please. You need fewer clothes.” Reaching between us, I begin to tug at the hem of his shirt. His chuckle is hushed and hot as I bat away his hands when he lifts them to help. Working from top to bottom, I pull the last tiny hinderance loose and tipping up onto my toes to push it from his shoulders. I’m unable to stop myself from swiping my tongue against the flat of his nipple. Muscles tighten under my fingertips, and he exhales a low gasp. There is so much of him, and his skin is hot to the touch. I run my fingers over the ladder of his abdominals, relishing both their flex and his moan.