Headhunter (With Me in Seattle Mafia 2) - Page 23

It’s slow and hot. Arousing. All-encompassing.

“Never met anyone quite like you,” he whispers as his hands slip into my pants, and he slowly pushes them over my hips. He makes a sweet, slow journey down my torso with his lips, planting hot kisses as he guides my pants down my legs.

When I’m standing before him in nothing but my neon green panties, he kisses me over the small scrap of material, right on my pubis.

My sharp inhale of breath has his gaze flying up to mine, and with an amused grin, he stands, takes my hand, and leads me to the bed.

Shane’s eyes are soft and so full of lust, it makes me want to look behind myself to make sure it’s me he’s gazing at.

The thought makes me laugh a little.

“Is this funny?”

“No.”

With his hands framing my face, he urges me onto the mattress and rolls me to the middle of the bed where he can cover me and keep kissing me.

“What made you smile?”

“Just a stupid thought.”

“None of your thoughts are stupid, Ivie.”

I love that he calls me Ivie. That it seemingly never even occurred to him to use my given name when he learned the truth about me.

“Just trust me on this,” I assure him and push my fingers through his dark hair. “You still have your pants on.”

His lips twitch. “What are you going to do about it?”

I bite my lip, considering, then push against his shoulder and urge him back, reversing our positions.

I’ve never been quite so bold in all my life, but it’s exhilarating to be the one in control—if only for a few moments.

Rather than tug his jeans open with my hands, I kiss down the hard ridges of his abs, nuzzle his navel, and grip the denim with my teeth, pulling the top button free. All five open easily, and I’m not even a little surprised to find him naked underneath.

“I guess that answers that question.”

“Which one is that?” He gently pushes his fingers through my hair.

“Boxers or briefs?”

He snorts out a laugh but smothers it when I urge his jeans over his hips and plant a kiss on his cock, right under his sensitive tip. Shane’s hips jerk in surprise. When his jeans are long gone, I don’t give him time to retake control.

I take his cock in my hand and wrap my lips around the tip, enjoying myself.

He’s rock-hard, and if the way he moves beneath me, and the moans of delight coming from his lips are to be believed, he’s enjoying my efforts immensely.

“Jesus H., Ivie, where did you learn to do that?”

Satisfaction bubbles through me, but suddenly, he rears up, takes my shoulders in his hands, and pushes me back onto the bed.

“Hey, I was having fun.”

“Too much fun. I’m not going to come in your mouth the first time. We’re going to make this last a bit.”

“Okay, I’ll do it again later.”

He laughs and kisses me hard. “Do you have any idea how fucking beautiful you are?”

I raise a brow. “I’m glad you think so.”

I’m not stupid. I know I’m not a beauty queen. I’m passable at best. But it fills my heart with joy that this sexy-as-hell man thinks I’m attractive.

His lips are everywhere. His movements are suddenly more urgent as if he just can’t hold himself back any longer.

And I don’t want him to. I want Shane to lose himself in me. In us. I don’t think he lets himself just feel very often. The fact that he’s doing so with me is both humbling and arousing.

He doesn’t guide my underwear down my legs.

No, he just rips them off.

I blink at him in surprise.

“They were in my way.” With that simple statement, he nudges my legs apart with his shoulders and settles in between them.

But he doesn’t lower his mouth to me.

He pets me.

His fingers linger over my lips, then glide up to my clit, barely pass over it, and then move back down again.

My hips surge.

“Lord, have mercy,” I mutter as my back arches. “Shane.”

“Yes, baby?”

“Shane.”

“I’m right here.”

“More.”

He kisses the inside of my thigh. “What do you need? Tell me.”

“More,” I repeat and reach blindly to grip the sheets.

“More of this?” His touch is firmer now, but it’s not his fingers I want. “Or this?” He gently circles my hard clit—electricity shooting through me. “What do you want?”

“You.” The word is a plea. My God, I feel like I’m about to burst from wanting him. “Your mouth.”

“Good girl. Watch this.”

I open my eyes and watch as he lowers his head to lick me. Then, he starts doing magical things that I can’t even comprehend as my head falls back against the pillow, and he treats my body to a smorgasbord of sensation.

I can’t hold back. I couldn’t if I wanted to. Falling over the crest of oblivion is as natural as water rushing over a waterfall.

Tags: Kristen Proby With Me in Seattle Mafia Romance
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