On a groan, he steps me back toward the bed.
The king-size frame doesn’t just hold a feather-down mattress that’s heaven to sleep on. Its short, plush headboardhas a wooden ledge that’s ideal for gripping—if it comes to that. And I’m hoping it will.
“What’s got that big smile on your face?” he asks, removing his hand from my thong and pushing me gently onto the cloud of ivory down.
“I’m happy. Excited. Wishing you weren’t still wearing your pants.”
“They can go.” He toes off his loafers, removes his socks, and neatly tucks them into his shoes. It’s endearing—and so him. He then unfastens the waist and shoves his slacks down, stepping out of them, and folding them by the crease over the chair.
Gray briefs. Narrow hips, round ass like two melons, thick legs, and when he turns back to me… good Lawd, the man should come with a license to carry.
“Better?” he asks.
“Mm-hmm.” I sit up, staring unabashedly. “You’re beautiful.”
“Stealing my line?”
“It’s a good one.” I reach for him, and he’s right there, kneeling before me, arms bracketing my hips.
I trace the ink covering his forearm. The intriguing pattern is dense—a maze of sharp shading and elegant, interlocking scrolls. It feels deliberate, just like him.
“What’s this design?” My thumb brushes against the dark edge near his wrist.
DK looks down at my hand on his skin, and there’s a subtle tightening in his shoulders. But it’s gone when he looks back up at me. “It’s architectural scrollwork used to reinforce weak points in a structure that carries too much.”
“I don’t see anything weak about you,” I say, cupping his bearded jaw and getting back to pleasure. I kiss him with greed and urgency.
He groans low in his chest, his hand lifting to my breast. “I’m a big fan of this bra… but I want to see and feel all of you.”
Obliging us both, I unclasp the back hooks. DK trails his lips along the curve of my neck as he slips the straps off my shoulders. The bra falls away.
“How are you this perfect?” he murmurs.
Heat rushes to my cheeks. In all my fantasies about how tonight would go, I hadn’t expected to like him this much. And even though nothing can come of it, I want him to like me, too. And I can tell he does.
He kisses my fingers, taking the tips into his mouth, attentive to the small stuff.
“I’m having the best time. And we’ve only just started.”
“So am I.” He plumps one breast in his hand before wrapping his lips around my nipple.
I cry out at the warm suction, my core tightening with each soft pull of his mouth. My hands move over his shoulders and upper back, learning the pressure that makes him groan the loudest.
He scrapes his teeth across the tip.
“Yes. Bite them,” I beg.
He squeezes my breasts harder and takes gentle bites of my flesh, the nipples, followed by cool breaths that soothe the sting.
Hollis never understood this part of me. Never cared to learn how to inch right up to the edge of pleasure/pain and stop there—how to ride that line without crossing it. And telling him always led to a fight, with him accusing me of emasculating him. That relationship did more damage than I care to admit. Enough that I swallowed my desires instead of naming them. Until now…
DK isn’t a man with a fragile ego. If anything, he’s attuned, attentive. Safe.
“More,” I moan.
“Like this?” He twists one nipple, while tugging on the other, with a deep, hard suction.
“Yes,” I cry. “It’s sooo good.” I know I could come just from the rough tittie play if he stayed at it long enough.
