Dancer in Lingerie (Lingerie 13)

I rose to my feet and held myself with the same dignity I always possessed. I didn’t care that I was dressed in baggy clothes with no makeup. He only gave me five seconds of warning before he barged into my apartment like he had every right to do whatever he wanted. I tucked my hair behind my ear then crossed my arms over my chest, meeting his beautiful gaze with the same confidence he showed. “I hope you didn’t break my locks.”

“No.” His eyes roamed over my body like I was in lingerie rather than baggy clothes. He seemed to want me the same way, whether I wore makeup or not. The tension rose between us, and it felt like he couldn’t wait to get his hands on me. “But if you really want to be safe, you need an upgrade.”

“Any recommendations?”

“Yes.” He moved closer to me and slipped his hand under the fall of my hair. “Me.” He bent his neck down and kissed me, his anxious lips taking mine like they were his property. He sucked my bottom lip aggressively before he gave me purposeful kisses, embracing me tenderly, then deeply a moment later. His kisses were never predictable, packed with passion that sucked me deep into him. His hand snaked around my hair, and he got a good grip of it, like there was any possibility I would try to run away.

No, I was stuck.

With his back to the fire, he continued to kiss me, his long-sleeved shirt covering the tanned skin of his arms and chest. The cool metal of his watch grazed my skin as he kissed me, but the longer we touched, the warmer it started to feel.

His arm circled around the deep curve in my back, and he pulled me hard against him, making sure I could feel the outline of his rigid cock through his jeans. My baggy sweater and loose pants didn’t quench his fire at all. He moved his hand underneath my sweater and touched the bare skin of my back, clutching me anxiously.

A man had never touched me this way, gripped me so hard that his arms started to shake. His kisses proved that he’d been thinking about me all day, waiting for the kiss we were sharing at that very moment. He probably kissed every woman like this, made every woman scream in pleasure while he was buried between her legs, and every time he left, they were heartbroken. But it was easy to believe that I was the only one he devoured this way, that I was somehow special.

The fantasy wasn’t real, but it was fun to believe in.

He broke our kiss for a heartbeat just to remove his shirt. He dropped it on the ground and then smothered me with his hands once more, his ripped body as strong as ever. His fingers gently touched my neck, my hair, and my petite shoulders. He felt me everywhere, kissing me with increasing vigor.

My hands started at his shoulders, feeling the prominent grooves that separated the muscles between his shoulders and arms. The dips were significant because the muscle was so profound. My hands slid down his arms, hitting the enormous bump of his biceps, and kept going as I felt the individual cords along his forearms. Chiseled and defined, he was a living sculpture the Greek gods created themselves.

My hands moved to his chest next, feeling the searing warmth that was far hotter than the fire that burned just feet away. I felt his hard pecs, large slabs of muscle that felt like chunks of concrete. My fingers slipped down and felt his chiseled eight-pack, the lines of muscle on the beautiful tanned skin.

He kept kissing me while I explored him, like he knew his body was a form of foreplay.

He was so damn hot.

I’d been with some good-looking men, but none of them compared to this man. Perfect in every way, from the stubble across his jawline to his chiseled physique, Bosco was everything a woman wanted in a man. The only hint of light in his dark exterior was his exceptionally blue eyes. They were the color of a summer sky on a clear day—beautiful blue.

He gave me his tongue just before he pulled my sweater over my head.

I wasn’t wearing anything underneath, not even a bra.

He stopped to look at me, his eyes enjoying the sight of my tits without shame. His hand was still deep in my hair, and a quiet moan escaped his lips. “Jesus.” He dropped to his knees in front of me, his body hitting the rug that covered the hardwood floor. He gripped my hips and kissed my belly, his tongue swiping over the piercing I had in my navel. He kissed both of my hips and then made his way up my sternum, taking his time as he tasted me. His hands yanked down my sweatpants and revealed my long legs and my black thong. My underwear was the only remotely sexy thing I wore in my ensemble.