Lachlan grins. “You know…” He sets the laptop back down and twists me around so I’m straddling his lap. “Your daughter trusted me enough to tattoo her.” He waggles his eyebrows.
“One, she’s five, so she trusts easier. She hasn’t experienced real life yet. And two, I haven’t gotten a tattoo done since…” My throat clogs with emotion when I think of the last tattoo I got. When I came home and he saw it and lost it on me. I don’t even realize I’ve turned my face away from Lachlan in shame until his cool fingers are gently touching my chin, and he’s bringing my face back up to look at him.
“Since you were with him.” Lachlan finishes my sentence for me. “Fuck him, Quinn.” He brushes his thumb down my cheek and then across my bottom lip. “Fuck. Him. You’re a beautiful woman who should be covered in art if that’s what you want. And one day, you’re going to trust me enough to let me ink my art on your body.”
Lachlan reaches around behind my head, grips my hair, and covers my mouth with his. My body melts into his touch, and if I were listening to my hormones, I would not only let him ink me, but let him do whatever the hell he wants to do to me. But I’ve learned the hard way I need to be smarter than that. I need to listen to my heart, but also my head. My body might trust Lachlan, but my head and heart aren’t completely there yet.
The kiss is slow and gentle. His strong calloused hands cup my jaw, and his tongue massages mine. I lift his shirt, sliding my palms over the ridges of his abs. His skin is hot, and I crave his warmth. When I let out a soft moan, it seems to spur him on. His hands leave my face, and we break our kiss just long enough to pull each other’s shirts over our heads.
His lips find my neck at the same time my fingers thread through his hair. He trails soft, open-mouthed kisses down my neck and chest. Then he pulls the cups of my bra down, one and then the other, exposing my erect, pink nipples. Wrapping his beautiful lips around one, he sucks it into his mouth, and the sensation zaps straight to the apex between my legs. My thighs clench, and my butt grinds down, revealing the large bulge in his pants.
Lachlan’s lips move to my other breast, sucking and licking my nipple. I haven’t the slightest clue how it is that he’s sucking on my breast yet it feels like my pussy is on fire. When I grind down again, needing relief, he bites down on my nipple and I yelp, which reminds me we’re sitting in my living room, where my brother and Willow can walk in at any time, or my daughter can come out of her room and find us.
“Lach,” I try to say through a moan. When he bites down on my other nipple, sending waves of pleasure straight to my core, I grab his face and push him back. “We can’t do this out here.”
He looks around as if just now realizing where we are. Picking me up, he takes me upstairs to my room, closing the door behind us. Laying me on the center of the bed, he tugs my pants and underwear down my thighs, and then gripping my ankles, pulls me to the edge of the bed, so my legs are dangling down.
My brain goes mushy, my only thought being how much I want and need this man.
Bending over me, Lachlan’s lips softly caress mine before he travels south, placing kisses along the center of my chest, one to each breast, my belly, and finally the hood of my pussy. He leans in and inhales deeply. My breathing becomes embarrassingly labored, my chest rising and falling quickly. I’m in shock that he just smelled me…there! Who does that?
Spreading me wide, Lachlan stares at my pussy for a long minute. “Fuck, Q, you smell so good, and you’re so damn wet.” He swipes his finger down my center and brings it to his lips, wrapping his mouth around the glistening wet digit, and licking it clean. And I about come on the spot. Who is this man?
A whimper escapes my lips, and Lachlan grins, staring back down at me. “You taste delicious.” He swipes his finger back down and licks it again. “So perfect,” he murmurs.
“Lachlan,” I groan, unsure what I’m even wanting to say.
“What’s wrong?” His brows furrow. “Do you want to know what you taste like?” When I gasp in shock, his mouth tips into a half-smile that has my insides heating up. How can one look, a simple touch, affect me in such a big way? He runs his middle finger down my center once again, this time slowly, then brings it to my mouth. “Open,” he commands, and I do. My lips wrap around his long digit, and I suck on my own arousal. My eyes stay glued to his, and his are glued to my mouth. When I pull back, he licks his lips. “Perfect, right?” It’s a tad tangy and not all that sweet—not really a taste I would personally find delicious—but if he thinks it tastes good, more power to him.