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So that’s what he did. He cupped her face between his palms and lowered his mouth slowly, carefully, to hers. Like he had all the time in the world. Like he wasn’t dying for a taste of her.
He was trying to be sweet, trying to take it slow. But he should have known slow and sweet wasn’t Harmony’s game. Instead, she tangled her hands in his hair and yanked, hard. Any thoughts he had of sweetness abandoned him as she delved in, delved deep.
It was hot and hard and so fucking sexy he could barely breathe. He opened his mouth wide and reveled in the way she took control. In the way she took what she wanted and gave so much pleasure in return.
Her hands were tugging at his hair, her tongue sliding along his teeth, his tongue, the roof of his mouth. Need coursed through him, made his dick hard and his hands shake. Made him want more of her. Want all of her.
And when she shifted, when she ground her sex against his cock, he knew that he was going to take control … and take whatever she would give him.
Sliding his hands under her shirt, he pulled it off. Then nearly died when he saw the teeny tiny bra she was wearing, and the clear outline of nipple rings through the lacy cups. He should have known Harmony would have nipple rings. Should have known those gorgeous tattoos of hers were all over her body.
Leaning down, he licked his way along the edges of her bra, stopping only to swirl his tongue along the ivy vines that twisted and twined their way from her back to her shoulder. She moaned a little, arched her back to give him better access. Thank God.
With a groan of his own, he slid his tongue beneath the lace cups, getting closer and closer to her mouth with each circle of his tongue on her breast. She moaned again, then untangled her hands from his hair just long enough to reach behind her and unhook her bra.
Then she pulled it off and dropped it to the ground behind her.
And God, she was beautiful. So fucking beautiful that it nearly ripped him in two just to look at her. With the wild illustrations on her skin, the raspberry-pink nipples, and the scattering of freckles, she turned him on like no one ever had before.
Lowering his head, he traced his tongue along the colorful edges of her tattoos as they bled one into the next. From the time he was little more than a kid, he’d had a thing for tattoos on female skin. He didn’t know what it was he found so sexy about a woman who decorated the most intimate and beautiful places on her body, but it revved him up like nothing else ever had.
And Harmony. Shit. With all her tattoos, she looked like a pretty birthday package just waiting to be unwrapped. And he was the lucky man who was getting to do the honors.
He moved lower, traced closer to her nipples. She shivered as he made patterns on her skin with his tongue, her hips arching against his while a low, keening cry came from between her lips. He nearly lost it at the sound, nearly reached between them, unzipped his pants and hers, then thrust into her, hard and fast.
But she tasted too good to rush, felt too amazing against him to end it just that quickly. Not when her mouth was cold and tantalizingly sweet from a combination of the donuts and the strawberries and whipped cream.
Keeping his mouth on hers—like he had the fucking willpower to break away—he reached behind Harmony to the table and grabbed a handful of strawberries. Then stood up and balanced her perfect little ass on the edge of the table.
“Dalton?”
Her beautiful blue eyes blinked open in confusion, and he didn’t do anything to reassure her, didn’t say anything to put her at ease. He wanted her off balance, wanted her watching him with those wary, cat eyes that made him hotter and harder than anything ever had.
“Lie back,” he said, exerting pressure on her shoulders with his empty hand.
“What, here?” she demanded breathlessly, even as she complied with the order he gave her.
“Of course here.” He watched as she braced herself on her elbows, a move that had her pretty breasts jutting forward invitingly. “Haven’t you ever done it on a table before?”
She smirked at him. “Wouldn’t you like to know.”
He would like to know, honestly, jealousy riding him hard at the thought of her with anyone else. But he didn’t have the right to call her on it—didn’t have the right to even be thinking like he was thinking. So instead of asking again, he murmured, “For once just relax and let me do all the work.”
She didn’t argue, so he chose to take her long, lingering sigh as acquiescence and lifted one of the berries across her lips. Her mouth opened up automatically and she bit the pretty red berry in half, then giggled as some of its sweet juice ran down her chin.
He licked it up with one long, slow swipe of his tongue, and she stopped laughing, her eyes darkening and her body growing tense. Good. He liked that she was a little on edge—it would make what came after all the sweeter.
He picked up another couple of berries, and her mouth opened invitingly, but he merely shook his head. Holding them above her body he squeezed hard, then watched as all their lovely juice leaked out of his fist and ran in rivulets down her beautiful torso.
Harmony gasped at the first touch of the cold juice on her breasts and her stomach. Gasped again as Dalton smeared the strawberry pulp around first one areole and then the second. Her nipples went pebble hard at the contact, though she wasn’t sure if it was from the cold berries or Dalton’s fingers or simply the anticipation of what was coming next.
She wasn’t a virgin—she liked sex too much for that—but no other man had ever made her feel like this. No other man had made her so anxious and so excited all at the same time. That it was Dalton who did it—with his Armani suits and Rolex watches—only made it a bigger trip.
As did the wicked gleam in Dalton’s eyes, the gleam that only seemed to come out when he was looking at her. It made him look even more handsome, even more dangerous. And knowing that she brought it out in him turned her on more than anything ever had.
He kept his gazes pinned to hers as he bent his head to her breast, and she nearly sighed in delight. Only the desire to mess with him a little, to make him sweat, kept her from sighing in delight.
But he didn’t stop there, and he didn’t ask for permission as he
