His unsteady hand covered hers at her sex. “Want more?”
She straightened her legs until she lay flat beneath him, and he slipped out of her body. But she didn’t protest as he rested atop her, a human blanket. Their hands remained pressed beneath them, cupped between her legs.
Her voice was a breathless tease. “I thought older men needed more recovery time.”
“Some parts do.” He grinned against her damp neck. “But our fingers and tongues don’t.”
He couldn’t move his hand much, not with so much weight atop it, but he managed to trace the slick seam of her. Tease her entrance with his fingertip.
She made a little hum of pleasure, but shifted minutely away from his touch. “I’m a bit sensitive right now, but give me five minutes. Then let’s test that theory.”
He knew just what he wanted to do. How he wanted to bring her more pleasure. “Are you—”
He cut himself off, unsure.
Never in his life had he even attempted to talk dirty. What if he sounded like a fool?
With a heave of her body, she rolled to the side and out from underneath him.
She nudged his chin until she could see his expression. “What?”
“How do you feel about a little…um…” He looked at the pillow for a moment. “Are you okay with dirty talk?”
Her grin should have been a suspension-worthy offense, it was so wicked.
“Oh, I’m more than okay. I’m downright enthusiastic.” Her voice was nearly a purr, velvet in the darkness. “Let me have it, Krause. I want to hear all about what you want.”
Okay, then.
He thought for a moment, then steeled himself to say it. To do what he’d envisioned.
His breath teased her ear as he nudged her hair aside. “Are you going to come all over my face, Ms. Owens?” He licked her earlobe. Bit down. “How about if I finger-fuck you? Are you going to squeeze my fingers and soak my hand again?”
She drew back and stared at him for a moment, silent, and he regretted everything. Everything. Even his birth.
Then she spoke, those amber eyes aglow with what he could only interpret as lust. “I certainly hope so. Because as far as I’m concerned, your five minutes are up.”
Dirty talk fucking rocked.
Sixteen
Rose slidMartin’s plate in front of him and waited for the inevitable teasing.
He considered the crème-fraîche-and-caviar blinis for a moment, straight-faced. “Well, it’s not a Pop-Tart, but I suppose it’ll do.”
And there it was. Smartass.
Rose rolled her eyes and filled her own dish. “Pearls of caviar before swine.”
“I’m on board with the pancake part. I’m just not sure fish eggs are a breakfast food.” When she deposited her food onto the table, he tugged her into his lap, even though she had to be crushing him. “You, on the other hand, I consider a nutritious and delicious part of any balanced—”
“Forget it.” She tickled his neck until he stilled his wandering hands. “I need coffee before foreplay. Before conversation too, preferably.”
He relented. “I forgot you hadn’t yet consumed your two-liter vat of coffee.”
“The Mug of Caffeinated Glory waits for no man.” She patted its porcelain surface fondly as she took a sip. “And it doesn’t hold two liters. Not until I refill it, anyway.”
Because he was a considerate man, as well as a wise one, he retreated to the entertainment of his phone while she drank her coffee and consumed her blinis. Which were freaking delicious, whether he appreciated them or not.
