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I nod. “Yeah. Is this you seducing me? Because I really want you to seduce me.” Normally I have more subtlety than this. The slow dance—pun intended—that builds up to more is one of my favorite parts of dating and sex, but I feel like I’ve been a rumbling volcano all day and I’m about to erupt.
“You tell me. Are you being seduced?”
I nod again. “This is a great start,” I whisper.
We dance for three songs, sharing slow kisses while we gradually move closer to each other. By the end of the last song, I can feel the press of his hard cock against my belly, and my skin is in a perpetual state of shivering goose bumps from the teasing tension.
He tugs me a little closer, his mouth dropping to mine in a hungrier kiss. One that leaves me breathless, unable to do anything other than gasp into his mouth. My whole body is in flash fire mode—my core strung tight and my nipples peaked against my bra. If he doesn’t speed this along and take me to his bed soon, I’m not responsible for what’s going to happen.
“Boone,” I whine.
“Yeah, Buttercup?”
“Take me to bed already.”
He shakes his head, but before my stomach can fully drop from the rejection of my request, he says, “All in due time. Let me enjoy you.” His fingers trace my goose-bumped arm as if fascinated by my response to him.
I can’t help but nod as he kisses a path along my shoulder to my neck, his teeth nipping at the skin and drawing gasping moans from me.
“That feels so fucking good,” I say.
“You taste even better.” His hands drape around my waist, one of them dropping to cuddle the cheek of my ass and drag me to my toes for another deep kiss. He traces his other hand up my side until it rests just under the swell of my breast, and I have to fight the urge to drop down to finally get his hand where I need it.
Before I can blink, his hands find my waist and he hoists me onto the table, stepping between my legs and bringing his middle to press against my center. My eyes nearly roll back into my skull at the feel of pressure against the seam digging into my clit.
“Holy fuck. Right there.”
“Yeah?” he grunts, the smooth huskiness of his voice a little more breathless as his beard rasps against my neck when he kisses my throat.
“Boone?”
“Yeah, Buttercup?”
“If you don’t get me off this table and drag me to your bed to get naked in the next ten seconds?—”
He shoves his hips against me, interrupting my threat and causing the tiny muscles of my vagina to jump up and do the tango at his rough handling. “What’re you gonna do?”
“Get you naked in this kitchen, obviously.”
He pulls back, a grin shooting across his face. “Is that a threat or a promise?” he asks.
“Both,” I pant and fist my hands in his shirt to drag his mouth back to mine. We kiss for what feels like forever, before I pull back and smirk at the color in his cheeks.
Boone blushes—how fucking cute is that?
“Ten, nine, eight.” He starts to count, each number punctuated by a press of his dick against my needy clit and a hungry kiss to my mouth.
“Three, two, one,” I rush out, reaching for the hem of his shirt to slide my hands under, greedy for the feel of his skin.
He hoists me on his hips. “I think you missed some in the middle.”
“Help me find them?”
“Absolutely.” He yanks me off the counter and starts down the hall to his bedroom.
Praise Jesus.
9
