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I pushed my ladies forward until they were right in his face.
Valentine cupped them both, sliding his fingers around the curves then drawing his palms under, taking the weight. His expression morphed into desperate need.
“Fucking hell. Aren’t ye the most gorgeous pair? I want to bury myself in ye and never come up for air. I’ll die a happy man.”
I gave a breathy laugh. “Are you having a conversation with my boobs?”
Without looking up, Valentine hushed me, drawing his thumbs over my nipples. “Do ye mind? We’re having a moment here.”
Amusement battled how turned on I was becoming, but I shut my mouth and arched my back, giving him the green light to play. The huge Scotsman didn’t hesitate. He ducked his head to kiss the swell of one breast, plumping up my flesh to create a deep valley of cleavage. Then he buried his face in the gap, giving up a groan that went straight down the middle of me. He kissed one side then the other, then licked my skin, all the while flexing his fingers, toying with me.
Heat streaked out from every place he touched me, my cheeks flaming, and my core pulsing with need. I only had to be close to the man to get turned on, but him losing himself in my body was something else entirely.
His touch drew fire along my skin. His wet mouth moved from my cleavage over the top of my breast, pausing while he slid his hand inside my bra cup.
“This okay?”
I gave up a kind of moan that was answer enough, because he freed my boob and instantly enclosed my nipple in his mouth.
Another cry spilled from my lips, and I tipped my head back, the sensation of him on my sensitive flesh almost too much. Valentine took it slow, flicking the taut bud with the tip of his tongue, sliding one side of it then the other, coaxing it to pebble for him. He pulled back and blew on my wet skin, giving a sound of satisfaction at what he could see.
My eyes had closed by themselves.
But I could feel. Knew what was happening when he curved a thick arm under my breasts to present them to him. The pulse of his dick under me told me he liked what he saw.
He enclosed me once again, and this time, sucked.
Hard.
I moaned, barely remembering what he’d asked me to do. With a light touch, I drove my nails up the nape of his neck and into his hair.
Valentine stalled his actions and panted around my nipple. “Question for ye.”
“Anything.”
“If I told ye I’d never wanted anything more than to have ye sit on my dick so we can fuck while I suck your nipples, are ye going running?”
I opened my eyes to find him watching me.
The man was too good-looking, with that dark hair and beautiful, expressive eyes. There was nothing I wanted more than sex with him. The hangar could burn down around us, and I wouldn’t care.
As if he could read my mind, Valentine gave my breast another possessive squeeze. “I swear I’ll make it so good.”
“Yes, please,” I said in a rush.
“Thank fuck for that.” He kissed me fast, at the same time shifting me to the sofa. Then he climbed up and strode to the bunkhouse door, locking it.
From his jacket on a hook, Valentine produced his wallet. A condom from inside.
I shivered, watching him prowl back over, his jeans tented and nothing in his eyes but sheer need.
He stripped his shirt. Tossed the condom packet to me.
“Clothes off,” he said.
I caught the little packet and held it to my chest. God, the man was stunning. Wide, rounded shoulders that led to thick biceps. A broad chest that tapered to a narrow waist. In a rush, I felt my entire lack of experience and every inadequacy I’d ever imagined about my body.
“Can you turn off the lamps?” I asked, my voice a squeak.
