Walk the Line (Man of the Month 12)

He bent forward, then closed his mouth over her core, sucking her through the cotton and making her gasp from the wildness of it all. "I have to taste you," he said. "All of you." And before she knew it, he had her on her back on the bed, the jeans pulled all the way off, so that she was laid out like a present, wrapped only in a bra and panties.

"Tell me what you want," he said. "Should I get undressed? Or should I undress you?"

She looked at him, still in the jeans and button down he'd worn to work. He looked sexy as hell, and she couldn't wait to see him naked, the hard planes of his chest and abs. And, yes, the hard length of him, evidence that he wanted her.

She wanted that. But she wanted more to be his. Only his. Unwrapped like a present for his pleasure.

She licked her lips, unsure what answer he would prefer, but then she took the plunge and said, "Undress me, Brent."

His slow smile proved to her that she'd made the right choice, and when he bent forward and whispered in her ear, she thought she might just come right then.

"Babe," he murmured, "you have no idea how hard you just made me. But I promise I'll show you soon."

She was so damn beautiful. So damn responsive. And when she'd told him to undress her, Brent had feared that he was going to come right then.

He'd called on depths of control he didn't even know he had. Anything and everything to keep himself together until he was ready--until they both were. He wanted them on edge. Right on the precipice. And then, yes, he wanted to take her to the stars with him.

All in good time.

Right now, he wanted to taste her, and he started by climbing onto the bed, then straddling her, knowing that the sensation of his clothes against her bare skin would tantalize her, taking her even closer to the edge.

Slowly, he bent forward, then brushed a kiss over her lips. "Close your eyes," he murmured, and when she complied, he gently kissed each eyelid. "Keep them closed," he ordered, then slowly explored the planes of her face with his lips and tongue. The sweet curve of her ear. The texture of her hairline. The elegant curve of her jawline.

Christ, she was lovely.

He nibbled and licked his way down, running his tongue over the curve of her breasts and watching with delight the way she arched up into his touch. Gently, he unfastened the front clasp of her bra, then spread it open, freeing her breasts. Her nipples were hard as pebbles, and she cried out when he closed his mouth over one, sucking hard and then grazing the tight nub with his teeth.

At the same time, he slid his hand down inside her panties, finding her core. "Spread your legs for me, babe," he demanded, and she complied, her hips moving in small circles as if trying to find just the right spot.

But that was his job, and he stroked her slick heat, teasing her clit as he sucked her nipple, his own cock growing rock hard as he played with her, taking her close and making her whimper.

"Please," she murmured, though that was all she said. As if she wanted everything and expected him to deliver.

He intended to.

Without warning, he thrust three fingers inside her, then watched in an erotic haze as she arched up, her body silently begging for more even as her low moans filled the room and teased his cock. He thrust again, slower this time, but deeper, and she rocked against him until they were moving together in the rhythm of sex, and he was growing harder by the minute.

He slipped his fingers free long enough to tug off her panties and toss them aside. Then he closed his hands on her breasts, thumb and forefinger squeezing her nipples as he closed his mouth over her sex. His tongue flicking over her clit, then slipping inside her, tasting her juices, teasing her entrance.

She cried out, begging him to stop, to keep going, to never stop. She rocked her hips, pressing down on him, as if she wanted his tongue deeper, harder. As if she simply wanted him.

That thought was borne out when she cried his name begging him with cries of please and now but never saying what she wanted.

"Tell me," he ordered. "Tell me what you want."

"You. Please, Brent. I want you."

"Tell me," he repeated.

"I want you inside me. I want your cock. Please, Brent. I want you to fuck me."

"That's my girl," he said, wanting it at least as much as she did. Hell, he didn't remember ever being so hard in his life. And the truth was, though he wanted to prolong the pleasure, he didn't think he could last much longer. He needed to be inside her, and in one swift movement he slid up over her body so that he could reach his bedside table, then pulled out a condom.

He didn't bother getting undressed, just unzipped his pants, took his cock out, and sheathed himself. She was spread wide for him, her core slick and ready. He went slowly, excruciatingly slowly since all his body wanted to do was slam into her, hard and fast. But she needed to be ready, and so he moved slowly and deliberately, building speed and sinking deeper as she grew more ready, until finally she was screaming for him to go faster, to fuck her harder.

And, of course, he had to comply.

She arched up, moving with him, their bodies coming together hard and fast, a desperate coupling as they tried to lose themselves in each other as they exploded into the stars.