Teasing him, I said, “Damn, it’s too late to take back the Scotch. You already opened the bottle.”
“I deserve a bonus for having to deal with your hard head.”
“I’m not intentionally trying to be difficult. Just…sensible. Realistic.”
“Try being romantic.” With that, he leaned over and kissed me again. A much softer, more leisurely kiss. Likely because he no longer needed to prove to me we were hot for each other.
I didn’t run away this time. Rather, I wrapped my arms around his neck and let him guide me down onto the bed. His weight on me felt heavenly, something I hadn’t realized how much I’d missed until this very moment. His fingers went to work on the buttons of my blouse, and I didn’t dare stop him. I banished all insecurities and doubts to the far recesses of my mind. I wouldn’t ruin this by obsessing over what it meant or how long it would last. At the moment, those things didn’t matter. How Michael made me feel did.
His hand cupped my breast and gave it a gentle squeeze, causing me to squirm on the bed. Then he whisked aside the lacy cups of my bra and caught one hard nipple between his thumb and forefinger, rolling and pinching it. Anticipation welled within me as his slightly calloused hands swept over my bare skin. Those hours he spent on his motorcycle left his palms with a rugged edge that excited me as he caressed my breasts and rubbed his thumb across my nipple.
In a heartbeat, I was breathless and tingly from head to toe. I tore my mouth from his and gasped for air as electric sensations shot through me.
“Good Lord.” I barely managed to get the words out before his head dipped and he took the other taut peak in his mouth, sucking on it. A moan slipped from my lips.
His hair smelled like the pomegranate shampoo he used, and his own low groan of desire heightened my arousal. He released my aching nipples and shifted on the bed.
“No, no,” I protested, not ready to move on from the sexual bliss he’d ignited. But he gave me a lascivious look that assured me there was bigger and better foreplay right around the corner. He gripped my hips and with one quick movement, flipped me onto my stomach.
I laughed as I stared at him over my shoulder. “Don’t do anything too kinky back there.”
“If only you knew the thoughts rattling around inside my head.”
“I have a few good ideas.” He’d fucked me before, after all. Many, many times.
He quickly slid the zipper of my skirt down the track and divested me of that item of clothing. Then he removed my shirt and unhooked my bra. The material slid down my arms and he tossed it aside.
I glanced over my shoulder again and found him staring at my ass. His jaw was clenched tight as though he were considering where to start. Then his hands cupped my bare cheeks with a firm grip.
“Nice panties,” he said of the black lace thong that matched my bra.
He let go of my cheeks and hooked his fingers in the sides of my skimpy lingerie before dragging them slowly down my legs. Once my thong was discarded, his hands splayed over the backs of my thighs, moving slowly upward, the thumbs caressing the inner portions. My flesh qui
vered, and my stomach tumbled in a way I hadn’t felt since the last time I was with Michael. His skin was warm against mine. Again, not exactly smooth, but definitely manly, creating a hint of friction that made my pussy throb.
I continued to stare at him over my shoulder as his hands inched higher. The way he looked at me stole my breath. He devoured me with eyes that had turned a deep shade of blue and which seemed incapable of looking away from me.
“God, you’re gorgeous,” he said in a strained voice.
I was surprised I could find my own. “There you go again with the flirting.”
“Told you I can’t help it. Not when it comes to you.”
I really had no idea what had gotten into him tonight. Nor did I want to question his actions, motives or words at this point. Admittedly, it felt wonderful to be wanted again. To be desired by such a talented, successful and ultrahot man. One I thought so highly of, no less. It was exactly what I needed this evening, even if I hadn’t realized it at first.
When he reached my butt again, one hand slid over a cheek. The other slid between my parted legs. His fingers grazed my slick folds, massaging and teasing.
Not only did I love the way he touched me, but the look on his face made all my earlier insecurities fall by the wayside. He stared at me as though he’d never seen anything quite like me. I also saw determination in his blue irises that told me he intended to make me come over and over and over.
My pussy clenched at the thought. I knew how skilled he was, and that made the fire roar through my body. I was ridiculously hot. Likely wetter than ever.
His fingers brushed my clit, jolting me to the core of my being. My hips lifted, pushing my ass a little higher in the air. And giving him better access to me.
“You can’t imagine how long I’ve waited to do this to you again,” he said.
“You can’t imagine how hard it’s been not to beg you to do this to me again.”
He frowned. “You never have to beg with me.”