The Greek's Pregnant Lover

Then that made them even, as she had a way of making him feel like a superhero. He put his hands out to her. “Come here.”

She shook her head, the curls she’d put in her silky blond hair swaying against her shoulders. “Not yet.”

“Why not?”

“You are wearing too many clothes.”

“And you don’t want to unwrap me?” he teased.

“Another time.”

“You want me to undress for you.”

“You know I do.”

He did. If he had a tendency to unwrap her like a gift, she made no bones about the fact she got a lot of pleasure out of watching him undress.

He didn’t have to do anything corny, like try to emulate a male stripper. Simply removing his clothes in his regular, methodical way could get her color up and turn her breathing erratic.

So, that was what he did. First, slipping out of his jacket and letting it lie where it fell on the floor. His tie came next, then the dress shirt that felt as constricting as a straightjacket. He toed his shoes and socks off, then his slacks slid down his hips with a single shake before he stepped out of them. There was already a dark wet spot on the front of the black briefs that barely contained his erection, but he did not remove them.

They’d played this game before.

He put his arms out, offering himself for her pleasure. “How’s this?”

“You’re still wearing one last bit.” A knowing smile teased her bow-shaped lips. She liked that last barrier to full disclosure.

“It’s less than you.”

She put her hand against her chin as if she was thinking that over. Then she shrugged and bent forward, giving him a tempting view of her breasts pressed so provocatively against the top of the corselet.

She stopped with her hands on one of her garters and looked up at him, sensual invitation glowing brightly in her azure eyes. “Did you want to do this?”

He did, oh, yes, he did. Without answering, he crossed the distance between them and then dropped to his knees in front of her. Gently, he brushed her hands away. “Mine.”

“Yes, my caveman. Unwrap your very personal wedding pressie.”

He slid the garter down her leg, caressing her shapely limb through the soft stocking as he did so. He did the other leg before returning to the original stocking to roll it down her thigh, over her calf and slip it off her perfectly shaped foot. “So beautiful.”

“Thank you.” Her voice was as hushed as his had been.

He removed her last stocking and then caressed up and down her legs. “Your skin is silkier than the stockings.”

“Can’t talk,” she stuttered out as her knees tried to buckle.

He wrapped an arm around her waist to help her stand. “Is that bone in your corset?”

She’d worn this type of thing before and he’d loved it, but the stiffened fabric had never had anything unyielding sewn in its lining to give it form like the sexy number she had on right now.

“Metal. They’re metal stays,” she managed to say between panting breaths.

He wrapped his hands around her corseted waist, unexpectedly turned on even more by how it felt. “We’re courting danger here. If I come in my briefs, blame your too-tempting self.”

“You like the lingerie that much?”

“For the first time, I’m tempted to leave your sexy bits on while making love to you.” There had been times he had not had the patience to get undressed, but he had never before wanted to keep an article of clothing on her while coupling their bodies.

“Whatever you want.”

And damn if that didn’t excite him even more.

“But this has to go,” he said as he tugged the tie on the back of her thong and pulled the now useless triangle of silk away from her body.

He didn’t wait for her to demand equal treatment before removing his own briefs, careful not to catch himself on the dark fabric stretched to capacity. Piper teased him about being oversized, but he thought he was just the right proportion for the tight heat that waited for him between her legs.

She reached out and caressed his length in one long stroke. They both shuddered at the contact. “Want you,” she whispered wantonly. “Want this.” She squeezed.

He groaned in preorgasmic pleasure. “You need to stop if you want that inside of you before it explodes like a Roman candle.”

“More like Mount Vesuvius and I know you, you won’t go soft. Not when you’re like this.”

“You’re trying to kill me with pleasure.”

She laughed, but the sound stuttered as he returned the favor, sliding his fingers between the wet folds of her sex. He tested the moisture and heat of her vaginal opening, pushing his middle finger far inside her and pressing right against the G-spot he’d spent a good long time acquainting himself with on previous occasions of intimacy.