More Than Hate You (More Than Words)
Page 82
As I tug on the wispy fabric fluttering around her waist, the lone strap still clinging to her shoulder pulls taut, but her other breast pops free, along with the pink tip of her hard, irresistible nipple.
“Fuck, baby…” I breathe, bending to capture the pert bud in my mouth with a long, low, probably too loud moan.
And I don’t care who hears me. This. Is. Everything.
For two torturous weeks, I’ve been haunted by the memory of Sloan’s body against me, her breaths hot between us, her nipple hard against my tongue as she got wet for me. Since then, I’ve thought a million times about coaxing her back to my bed.
This time, I have ample light to see every detail of my wife. Sunlight shimmers on her small, taut nipple before my tongue teases it. Between licks, I drink in the sight of the delicate blue veining under her almost translucent skin. The supple curves of her tits on top of her small, small waist. Her slender thighs. Her adorable toes.
I need more.
Conscious of the ticking clock and all the hidden parts of her body I still need to unwrap, I suck her wet nipple back into my mouth, gently scraping it with my teeth, while shoving the other strap down her shoulder and pulling the lingerie beneath both breasts.
I cup the mound I’ve sucked and laved, noting with satisfaction that the tip is a deeper, rosier pink. Then I turn my attention to the other, giving it the same teasing treatment—a lick, followed by a flick of my thumb, then a nip before I back away.
Motherfucking hell, this is hot. I inhale her strawberry scent, suctioning her until her tender bud scrapes the roof of my mouth. Sloan clutches me tighter, her breaths shallow and panting. Her knees give out, and she melts against me, her lips skimming up my neck as if she can’t contain her need to touch me in return.
Standing isn’t working anymore. I’m not sure how much time I have left since I shoved my phone back in my pocket, but I’m not wasting a second.
I lift Sloan against me. “I’m taking you to the bed. I have to see what else is under this sexy baby doll.”
She doesn’t protest, simply wraps her legs around me as I make my way to the soft-as-a-cloud mattress and lay her across the red rose petals. Once she’s on her back, it doesn’t take much to lift her hips and wriggle the top half of her baby doll down her body. The second it clears her feet, I toss it across the room.
She won’t be needing that anymore.
But the view of her lying down, bathed in golden sunlight, takes my breath away.
So does the wet spot at the front of her tiny thong that clings to her hips by the thinnest of strings.
I want my mouth on her again.
“You look so beautiful, baby,” I murmur, then I drop my finger to the damp fabric between her legs, brushing the spot with my knuckle. “And I love that you’re wet for me.”
“I don’t want to be.”
Because I’m the enemy. Because she knows that giving in to the pull between us and taking pleasure from me will weaken her resolve, make her more vulnerable to me.
Those are even more reasons for me to press ahead.
“Baby, it’s going to be so good between us, not like anything you’ve ever felt.” At least that’s my hunch.
“What are you doing to me?” Sloan wriggles, lifting her hips to my taunting finger, silently begging for more.
“Persuading you to tell me what you want. Whisper it in my ear, baby. It’s only a few harmless words…”
“Nothing with you is harmless.”
Her breathy comeback makes me smile. “Right now is just about us. Nothing outside these four walls exists. Tell me what your body aches for. My mouth on your nipples again?” I suck one taut tip between my lips, pull hard, then swipe it with my tongue.
She whimpers.
“For me to stroke your clit harder?” I press my thumb over the little nub, straining against her barely there underwear.
She gasps, gripping me tighter.
I settle above her and work my hips between her soft, slender thighs. “Or for me to sink deep inside you, baby?”
When I punctuate the question with a nudge of my cock against her damp, softening pussy, she rewards me with a broken moan.