Page 97 of Floodgates

I smiled. “Come here—I won’t bite.”

“You can bite,” he rumbled as he crossed the floor to me.

As soon as I could touch him, I pulled his sweater up over his head and off, followed by the strangely sexy white T-shirt he wore underneath.

“God, look at you. You’re so beautiful,” I groaned, putting my hands on his massive chest and sliding them over the hard pecs and pebbled nipples.

“Take everything off,” he ordered, going to work on his belt as he toed off his biker boots.

I watched him, mesmerized by how quickly his jeans were being shoved down his long, muscular, fuzzy legs.

“What are you doing?” he snapped, looking up at me from where he stood bent over, taking off his socks.

“I’ve never seen you naked before. I wanna look at you.”

Straightening to his full towering height, he spread his arms wide so I could look at all of him. The man was a gorgeous, carved specimen of heavy, cut muscle, roping veins, and dark golden skin. Even his feet were stunning.

“You about done stalling?”

“I am so not stalling,” I said as I stepped forward, took hold of his long, thick cock, and squeezed gently.

“Oh fuck,” he growled, instinctively shoving into my fist.

I went to my knees.

“No, I want you in bed, I don’t—Tracy!”

He knew me, but he had no idea what I was like behind closed doors, and licking over the flared head of his rigid shaft had been enough to tear a deep, guttural moan up from his chest.

“You can’t just… oh God,” he moaned, low and deep, tangling his fingers in my hair as he stared down at me.

I swallowed his crown, and he tightened his hold on me.

“I’m not—selfish,” he rasped. “I can take care of you too.”

He smelled good, like musk and faintly of soap, and he felt good on my tongue, his silky flesh and the thick vein that ran the length of his rigid shaft, so swallowing him down the back of my throat took no effort at all.

“Tracy!”

Pulling back, making the suction strong, I wrapped my hand around his base and licked and laved, swirled my tongue over his length, and showed him how desperate I was to taste every last inch of him.

“No,” he growled suddenly, shoving me off the end of his dick, panting as he stood there.

“No?” I teased him.

Grabbing me under the armpits, he yanked me to my feet before giving me a hard shove down onto the bed. He opened his mouth to say something, but I lifted my arms to receive him, and I watched, amazed, as the man’s eyes bled to black, his pupils dilating instantly.

“You like to be wanted,” I whispered hoarsely, “so come here.”

He dove onto the bed, scrambled over me, crossed my wrists over my head, and held them pinned to the mattress with one hand. He used the other to tug and rip at me—my belt, trouser stays, and zipper surrendering fast. When he smoothed a hand up my abdomen, I arched up under his touch.

“I wanted—” He gasped. “—but you fight me all the time.”

I did. “Not anymore,” I promised, starting to shake, my body heating. “Get the lube from my bag.”

“Yes,” he agreed, but instead of moving, he bent and slanted his mouth down over mine in a long, hard kiss.

I fought because I wanted to touch him, and he released my wrists so he could take my dick in his hand and stroke and squeeze me from balls to head.