Rough Exile

I took the hand he’d been eating with, popped one of his fingers into my mouth, and then sucked the melted butter from it. His lips parted and his gaze grew shuttered.

“Why are you doing this?” he rumbled, voice low, making me shiver.

I didn’t answer. I cleaned that finger, then the next, then his thumb. The pads of his fingers were rough against my tongue, as though he spent a lot of time working with his hands. When I was done, I kissed his palm and guided it lower, sliding it into the neckline of my borrowed dress to cradle my bare breast.

He was holding his breath.

This was fun.

“Have you ever been with a woman?” I asked as he explored my skin. He coaxed my nipple to an aching point, taking his time, making me squirm.

“I’ve only ever been with a man I’m not allowed to touch.”

“Oh.”

“You like this,” he said, watching my expression intently.

I was holding onto his arm, feeling the flex of muscle as he toyed with me. I exhaled shakily.

“You must have slept with a woman before.”

“No.”

“Then where did you learn to do this?”

“The Island was an interesting place to learn by watching.”

“Most of the men there didn’t care if the women had a good time.”

“It is easy to see if a woman is merely tolerating something or enjoying it, if one bothers to look.”

“You’ve never kissed anyone?”

“I kissed you when we were on our way here. I doubt you remember. The drugs…” He looked guilty. “I touched you, too. Your skin is so soft.”

“I thought that might have been you.”

“I thought you were asleep.”

I tilted my head back and leaned into him, gazing into his dark eyes. “You should do it again.”

He frowned. “I don’t want you to feel obligated to do this when we’re alone.”

“This isn’t about obligation. I’ve never met an adult male virgin before.”

“I’m not a virgin.”

“You might as well be.”

He lowered his head and brushed his lips across mine. Before he could pull away, I dragged him down to me again, and prolonged the contact. Tentatively, I licked the seam of his lips. He gasped, and heat flushed through me.

“Open your mouth a little,” I whispered.

He obeyed, and I licked his bottom lip, then caught it gently between my teeth. His tongue shyly came out to meet mine, then retreated, luring me to be bolder.

Although his hand still cradled my breast, his entire focus was on my mouth, and what my lips and tongue were doing. The small gasps and moans that escaped him were heady, and I could feel him hardening against my thigh.

I turned toward him and hauled my skirts up so I could straddle his lap.

He looked stunned. “What are you doing?”

“Getting comfortable.” I wrapped my legs around the back of his chair, pushing myself right up against the bulge in his track pants.

His eyes widened, and his breathing became unsteady. “Delilah, maybe Bron won’t like this.”

“Do you care?”

“I should, but no.”

I ground against his erection, and he groaned and let go of my breast in favor of grabbing my ass and pressing me more firmly against him. I kissed him again, and soon we were making out like teenagers, grinding against each other and panting into each other’s mouths.

“Please, woman,” he whispered between kisses. “Please don’t stop.”

“Shh, he’s going to hear us.”

He kept up an almost silent litany of Russian that sounded like a combination of swearing and praise, as though he was getting close to coming. The idea of making a grown man come in his pants was powerful incentive, but he was also sexy, and a quick study.

There was something to be said for a man who paid attention to what you liked.

My clit was aching, and I rolled my hips, getting frustrated by the layers of cloth between us. It didn’t help that I had no panties to wear.

His fingertips dug into my ass with eager, bruising force. I nibbled on his neck, and he whimpered. The sound sent a charged thrill through me.

A loud bang almost made me levitate off his lap.

We split apart, my dress gaping at the neck, his track pants tented by his big dick, with a wet splotch of pre-cum at the tip.

Bron poured himself water from the pitcher in the fridge. He leaned back against the counter and took a sip.

His lips curved. Asshole.