Then she kisses me. I mean,kissesme. Not slow. Not tentative. Her fingers rake through my hair, gripping the crown. Her mouth is hot and frantic. I catch up fast, learning her taste,the scent of her skin—exotic, dark, floral. My hands fill with her hips, the material cool against the warm softness of her body.
We kiss like we’ve been starving, like our mouths are an endless feast. I devour her breaths, her tongue, the little moans that break into desperate sighs—each one turning my need primal. I run my hands over her back and up to cradle her face, angling it how I want to get even deeper.
She writhes against my dick and reaches for my shirt buttons with impatient fingers. I trap her wrists and bring them above her head, holding them there. Because if our kiss is this explosive, once we get naked, we’re going to blow the fucking roof off.
I want that. But I want this first. The press of our clothed bodies, straining. The tussle of our tongues. I want to make it last, imprint every detail to pull from later, when Luna will be a sweet, searing memory.
Whether five minutes or fifty, we finally come up for air. Her eyes flicker open. Glazed. Aroused.
My lips drag down her neck, nibbling, sucking at the white patch there. Her moans spill out, tiny hitches threaded with ache.
“Tell me what you want, Luna. What you need.”
“You. In my bed.”
Message received. I lower her hands and kiss her wrists, then lead her into the bedroom. A sprawling king dominates the space, a floor lamp casting a golden glow over it.
“I’m dying to see what you look like,” Luna says, tugging my shirt free from my pants.
Insecurity awakens—lived-in and unpolished. I don’t have a six-pack. My workout routine keeps me fit, but no amount of exercise flattens my stomach. “I hope you won’t be disappointed.”
“Impossible.” Her fingers open the buttons one by one.
I resist the urge to suck in my gut as she spreads her palms over my bare torso—the undefined pecs, the roundness of my stomach, softly squeezing the sides folding over the waistband of my pants.
“I’m not the least bit disappointed,” she murmurs, sliding the shirt off my shoulders. “I love the way you’re built.” She kneads my biceps. “Strong. Thick. Soft in some places, solid in others. It’s like comfort and sin in the same body.” Her gaze lifts to mine. “That turns me on.”
Not a passive compliment meant to appease. Her tone is genuine, her touch reverent, her eyes hungry.
“I want to see more of you too.”
“I’ve had my own share of insecurities,” she confesses. “I’m fat. I have vitiligo. I used to hide. I don’t anymore.”
Her hands leave me as she reaches to undo the knot of her robe, letting it slink to the floor. “This is me.”
My eyes damn near pop out of my head. The bra and panty set is the thinnest of black sheer. Barely there, except for rhinestones concealing her peaked nipples and the triangle covering her pussy. And she’s still in those killer heels.
But it’s her body that wrecks me. Hip grips. Cleavage like two generous scoops. A pillowy-soft belly and dimpled thighs. A body made to be held, squeezed. Ravished.
I let her read the desire in my eyes before I speak. “You’re beautiful, Luna. Every curve, every patch, every inch of you is a privilege to look at… to touch.”
My fingertips trace the plush give of her stomach, slow enough to make it quiver. Everything else burns away.
“I want you,” I say, kissing the white patch on her chest, then the one around her mouth. “All of you. Lights on. No hiding. I don’t want to miss a thing.”
Chapter Five
Rayne
DK’s unexpected vulnerability made it easier to share mine. We have that in common—to the outside world, we’re all self-assured and in control. But underneath the armor are small nicks and cracks, only visible to those we let close.
But there’s no lack of confidence in the way he’s taken possession. It’s been so long since I’ve felt a man’s touch that I’m extra sensitive, or maybe it’s just him. Because the things he’s doing with his tongue in my mouth and his hand beneath my panties are driving me out of my mind.
“DK,” I whimper as his fingers brush the small trail of my landing strip.
“I love hearing you moan my name. Do it again.”
“DK.”
