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Maybe.
Or navy. Or black.
Who cares?
Gage is taking off my low heels, pressing a kiss to one ankle, then the other. Murmuring sweet nothings against my calves. Pushing up my skirt, then climbing between my thighs, gazing wantonly at my soaked panties. “So fucking wet,” he praises, then shakes his head. “But these really need to go.”
I reach down to slide them off, but he’s faster, a hungry man, determined to feast.
He presses a hot kiss to the panel of my damp panties, then unleashes a greedy groan. “Mmm. Yes,” he says.
He kisses me through the slick panel once more, flicking his tongue against the soaked fabric. “Baby, how long have you been like this?”
“Since you kissed me in the shop,” I admit, my voice pitching up with need, just like my hips.
I’m arching for him, eager for him.
No, I’m dying.
“Well that won’t do,” he says, then slides my white lace panties down my thighs, his face lighting up in filthy delight as he stares savagely at my wet pussy.
“So beautiful. So fucking wet,” he rumbles. Then he sits up, smacks the outside of my thigh, and unbuttons his shirt.
“Leave your clothes on. That skirt’s been giving me unholy fantasies all night.”
I push up on my elbows. “It has?”
“All through dinner, I thought about crawling under the table and eating you. Then I thought about you crawling up on me in a bed like this one, and demanding I eat you out.”
Can I clone him and have him fuck me every night?
He’s shrugging out of his shirt, and his chest is firm, toned, and I want to run my hands all over his torso, drag my nails through the dark, wiry chest hair, explore the ink along his arms.
Lick his abs.
Taste his cock.
But again, he’s faster than I am. He flops to his back, settling into the pillows, patting his chest. “Fuck my face, baby. Do it now.”
I obey. I climb over him, clothes on, straddling this gorgeous stranger who’s hardly a stranger in some ways.
He grabs my hips, then tugs me down on his mouth. I brace my hands against the headboard. “Gage,” I moan from that first tantalizing lick.
He goes down on me like he’s French kissing me. It’s luxurious. Sensual. Erotic.
The sounds he makes are filthy. The carnal noises that come from his mouth send pulses of electricity from my core all the way to my fingertips. His hands curl tight around my hips as he pulls me closer, a man determined to devour me.
But I’m cautious. I don’t quite move or rock. I’m a little afraid to. I’m five nine, have curvy hips and generous boobs.
He must sense my reticence since he stops licking and stares up at me with lust-glazed eyes. “You like this?”
“So much,” I gasp.
“Then you want to fuck my face a little harder?”
“Are you sure?”
His lips quirk into a naughty grin as he glances down, nodding toward his body. “Yeah, but why don’t you check?”
