Page 17 of Possessive Mafia Bodyguard

I barely acknowledge my leather jacket being tugged over my shoulders and tossed aside. Or my T-shirt being dragged over my head. His mouth leaves mine, and I miss it for a fraction of a moment before his lips close around my pierced nipple, his tongue flicking the tiny silver post and sending flames rippling down my spine.

“I fucking love this.” He peers up at me with a small smile.

Then he crushes my breast, his tongue flicking my nipple, while one hand slides around my waist and unzips my skirt. It pools on the floor at my feet, leaving me standing in front of him wearing only black panties and my Docs.

More Celtic tattoos decorate his back and shoulders, and I slide my hands down over them, committing them to memory as if I’m reading Braille. His dark hair curls around his ears and the nape of his neck, and he has a tiny strawberry birthmark on his left shoulder.

He straightens and cups my face in both hands, his pupils blown wide.

“Your name,” he repeats from earlier.

“Do I get an option this time?”

I’m aware of my own nakedness, of my hard nipples, and the wet patch between my legs. I’m not self-conscious or embarrassed to be undressed in his presence when I hardly know him. I’m simply marveling at the way my body reacts to his.

He grins, giving life to his dimples again, and I reach up and poke one with my fingertip.

“Your name or I fuck you with my tongue.”

My pussy throbs in response. “Your tongue.”

“Nope.” He stands back, folds his arms across his chest, and shakes his head. “If I’m not getting your name, you’ll have to do better than that.”

“I want you to fuck me with your tongue.”

“Better.”

I know what effect it has on him because I can see his erection straining to get out of his pants. “Now.” I open my legs wider, and the wet patch between my legs spreads.

He looks at me and swallows hard. “Show me. Show me where you want my tongue.”

I hook my thumbs inside my panties and slide them down over my hips, stepping out of them and my skirt when they reach my ankles. I’m about to untie my bootlaces and take them off when he grips my arm and tugs me upright.

“Keep them on.” His voice is husky. “They’re sexy as fuck.”

I chew my bottom lip and watch him closely while I reach down with one hand and rub my clit. “I want you to make me come. Right here.”

He drops to his knees in front of me, our eyes still locked as though he’s saving looking at my pussy until the last moment. “The pleasure is all fucking mine.” He grips my thighs and parts my legs further.

“I think the pleasure is going to be mine.”

A low chuckle rumbles through him. “On second thoughts, you can hold your name to ransom until we’ve exhausted all our other options.”

Without warning, he drags his tongue flat across my clit, and the result is instantaneous. A groan of pleasure escapes my lips before I can stop it, and an orgasm rushes to the surface as if it was hovering nearby, just waiting for him to touch me.

“Buckle up,” he says, sitting back on his haunches and peering up at me from between my legs. “I haven’t gotten started yet.”

His hands travel up my thighs and grip so tightly I can feel the bruises already forming. But it’s nothing compared to the sensation of his tongue sliding inside me. I spread my legs as wide as they can go, needing to feel as much of him as I can, and tip my head backwards as he pushes it all the way in.

And back out again. “I want to see you,” he growls. “I want to see you come.”

“Don’t stop.” My voice is whiny, pleading, but I do as he says and meet his eyes.

His eyes crinkle at the corners as he flicks the tip of his tongue across my clit, back and forth, teasing, licking, sucking between his lips. Stars explode behind my eyes, and I pant through the pleasure cresting low in my belly.

“Want me to keep going?” he teases, sitting back, but still gripping my thighs, my throbbing clit exposed to his mouth.

“Yes.” My breathing is short and shallow, the lack of oxygen reaching my brain making me dizzy.