Vegas With Dad's Best Friend

I can’t contain myself any longer. I can’t hold back. I walk right over to her, marching like a man possessed, and tip her chin up with my thumb and forefinger to claim her mouth.

Tonight, I claim all of her.

I’m ready to devour her whole, but I linger, slowing myself deliberately. I pull back from the kiss and lead her over to the middle of the bedroom, where she can stand in the light of the candles before me. I need to see her, all of her, to admire her.

The lingerie… buying it was a very, very, very good idea.

I move behind her, trailing my hands lightly across her shoulders, down her arms, and back over her collarbone. She gasps breathily, already so primed and ready for me. I have no doubt that if I reach down, I will find her dripping wet. I exercise patience. The more we savor every moment, the better this will be.

I reach down to her waist, my arms encircling her as if to embrace. But instead of holding her still, I pull her against me, then slip the belt of the lace robe open. The satin rope glides apart easily, allowing the robe itself to fall open over her body. This time, when I run my hands across her stomach, they meet only bare flesh.

I turn around her again, looking at her, drinking her in. She is beautiful. She stirs something primal in me, a hunter who knows he will have the best female for his mate. I slide my hands slowly under the robe at her shoulders, lifting it until it clears enough space to fall down over her arms and pool on the floor.

I look at her face, her eyes. She is flushed, her gaze bright and gleaming, her breath already coming fast. We’ve barely even begun.

I kiss her mouth one more time, sweetly now instead of hungry, and then draw my lips across her chin, her jaw, down her neck. I kiss her collarbone, her shoulders, and arms, her hands. She shivers under my touch, her eyes half-closed when I glance up at her. I slip my arms around her completely as I reach behind to unhook her bra, taking her mouth once more as I do so.

The clasp undone, I pull back again, leaning down to kiss her chest. I slide the straps of the bra down over her shoulders, let the fabric catch for just one more moment on her breasts, then tug it away and down to join the robe on the floor. Her breasts stand exposed before me, full and pert, her nipples hard and firm with her desire. I kiss them one by one, letting them sit and roll in my hands, twisting her nipples between my fingers until she gasps and throws her head back.

I drop to my knees.

The ritual starts again. I bend my head and bow before her as I kiss the tops of her feet, her calves, her thighs. Over her stomach, my hands caressing a line up the side of her legs as I straighten. Only one place remains. I take the sides of her panties delicately in my fingers, pull away one side to kiss at the skin underneath it, then the other. Down they go, down to the floor, and I nudge her legs apart to bury my face in her pussy. I was right, she is wet for me, so wet and ready that when I bring up my fingers to brush against her center she shudders and I come away slick.

Now we are unequal. I stand, drinking in the full sight of her again from this vantage point, the way she allows me to look and doesn’t move to cover herself. Whatever shyness she had is gone in the face of pure pleasure, and I see her eyes flick hungrily over me as I unbutton my shirt.

I don’t think I’ve ever been so hard in my entire life as I am now, her eyes on me, my eyes on her, this beautiful goddess that has somehow landed in my bedroom after all of these years.

Chapter Twenty

Savannah

My heart is thundering in my chest as he steps away from me. I almost protest at the removal of his attention until I see what he’s doing.

He moves to unbutton his shirt, and I feel a surge of heat in the pit of my stomach. Yes. Yes. I want him naked. I want to see him the way that he sees me.

He finishes with the buttons, so agonizingly slow I almost want to bat his hands out of the way and take over for him. He shrugs his shirt off his shoulders and lets it drop to the floor, but my eyes don’t follow the fabric. My eyes are gliding over his chest, smooth and muscular, a perfect body that most men would kill to have.