Before Him

“I think . . .”

“Yes?” Her soft breath at my ear makes me shudder.

“I think you’re going to be the juiciest thing ever eaten on this table.”

She gives a stuttering sigh as I press my mouth to the juncture of her neck and shoulder and suck. I give her arse a dirty and hard squeeze as an accompaniment. Against me, her body convulses.

“Oh, God.” She makes me feel like him. “Your aural game kept me warm on lonely nights.”

My insides light up like a fucking pinball machine. “No more lonely nights, little love, just loads of oral from here on out.”

Air slides between us for a moment as I pull back and slide her dress from her body, her hands resting on my shoulders as I help her step from its shimmering pool.

“Please.” Kennedy’s hands slip away, but I find myself pushing her back.

“Let me look at you.” Because she is exquisite, her body a mixture of light and shadow, pale skin and dark lace, moonlight eyes and soft, glistening lips.

And she is mine.

“You are so beautiful. I don’t know what I did to deserve you—”

“Please don’t.” She presses her fingers to my lips, and for the world, she looks like she’s about to burst into tears.

“Please don’t cry, little love.”

A strange noise escapes her mouth, but she doesn’t give in to her tears, not really. “I sometimes wonder if you can see right through me. It might be easier if you could.”

I take her face in my hands, my thumbs stroking her smooth cheeks. “Ah, Kennedy. I know all I need to know.”

“Please, will you just love me?” she whispers, pulling my mouth down to meet hers.

Our kisses—long and languid kisses—seem to speak their own truth. A glide of my tongue, a whispered compliment, as I lick and lave my way across her jaw to her shoulder.

“You should lose this,” she whispers between breathless kisses, her fingers sliding my jacket down my arms.

“You don’t like the suit?”

“Oh, I do. But what made you get all dressed up?”

“You did.” I dip and slide my hands under her thighs, lifting her onto the tabletop. She gasps as I step between her splayed knees, my cock at her hot centre. She gasps, and I growl. The heat of her burns, her body a temptation beneath my hands as my mouth returns to hers with a slow, open-mouthed deliciousness.

Mouth, neck, collarbone—I want to taste it all. Every bit of her. I trail my tongue over the soft rise of her breasts and lavish her nipples over the lace of her bra. The brush of my thumb, a tugging pinch. The flat of my tongue dragged over the edge of the lacy cup as she arches against me. “You made me get suited up because you turned the water off.”

She gives a husky, delighted laugh, one I feel vibrate under my lips.

“God, Roman, please, don’t stop,” she whispers as I tighten my grip.

“Not even if the house fell down.”

She smells so good, and she feels fucking fantastic. I just want to inhale her, devour her right here on the kitchen table. So I think I will.

“Anytime you want to role-play bank manager,” I utter gruffly. “Just say the word. I’ll make a deposit anytime.”

“Something tells me you don’t go into the bank very often.” Her eyes shine dark in the moonlight, her sweet breath brushing my cheek.

“God, I fucking love you,” I rasp as I flick her bra loose. It slides down her arms, but I’ve no attention for it as I frame her breasts with my hands. Her nipples harden under my thumbs, and she whimpers as I press my teeth to one soft, round side. A wave of ferocious need washes over me. I want her cries to fill the room as I devour her from her lips down.

She doesn’t disappoint as I suck her nipple hard into my mouth, her fingernails digging into my shoulders with the kind of delicious sting that sends a wash of tingles right through me.

“Fuck, yes,” I growl.

“Oh, you’re a pain whore.” She looks suddenly surprised to have found those words coming from her mouth.

I chuckle a little darkly as my thumbnail finds her clit, scraping it over her panties. Her voice breaks on my name.

“Oh, God,” she whispers. “Maybe I am, too.”

“I don’t want to hurt you, little love. I just want to love you.” Seconds later, her panties are in my hand. “Tell me you love me,” I demand, pressing her knees wider with my thighs. “Tell me this pussy is mine.” Her hands tighten on the edge of the table, her thighs twitching as I swipe my thumb across her pink ribbon of flesh.

“You’re such a Neanderthal,” she whispers, turning her head.

“And you’re blushing because you like it.”

“It’s dark,” she murmurs, denying me.

“That’s how I feel right now,” I murmur, purposely misunderstanding. “And you’re pink and wet and leaking for me.”