Page 79 of The Puck Bunny

I nod, suddenly becoming mute as my eyes dance between his dimple and the straining fabric of his pants. That’s what’s waiting for me. All I need to do is send this text.

I quickly tap a note to Mom that I’m staying with Billie Mae and I’ll be home in the morning. When I hand the phone back to him, he tosses it onto the floor into a pile of clothes.

“You’re a slob, aren’t you?”

The instant furrow between his brows in puzzlement is almost as adorably sexy as his dimple.

“I’m sorry, I mean, you’re not a tidy person—”

“I know what you meant.”

His voice is mock menacing and he pulls me down on the bed, then covers me with his body, but the last thing I feel is menaced. In fact, I want to get out the pom-poms and cheer him on on his way to ravishing me. I giggle and that heady combination of desire and power, that mutual need for that same thing from each other, the anticipation of reaching that goal together, sends a shiver through me until I feel like all my nerve endings have been disconnected temporarily and then reconnected.

Everything is brighter. Clearer. More. He touches my shoulder with his hand and I swear I see a spark—I know I feel one.

He slides the strap of my dress off my shoulders.

“You have the creamiest skin.” He drags his fingers down my collar bone to my cleavage as my chest heaves with anticipation.

I’m not disappointed as his thumb slips under the top of my dress and pushes under the straining confines of my bra to find my nipple.

“Oh God.” The words shoot from my mouth in a breathy moan as he circles and flicks my nipple.

His mouth follows, his rough tongue laving a hot trail between them.

I squirm and run my fingers through his hair, pulling him closer, needing him to be there, to feel his scalding tongue on my nipple.

Tugging my dress down to my ribs past my boobs, his strong hands reach back, leaving my breasts momentarily forlorn and I hold my breath. When I feel the release of my bra, I gulp, expectation winding my nerves into a tight ball waiting to explode. God, he hasn’t even touched my pussy yet.

“You are so fucking beautiful, so sinfully tempting.”

His whisper scrapes my skin, provoking every hair follicle and nerve ending as his mouth glides toward my nipple. Then he sucks it into his mouth as he presses my breasts together, flicking it with his tongue, then moving to the other.

I call out his name and convulse, my hips rising, my back arching up instinctively. “Quinn, I want you. So much.” I pant the words.

His teeth tighten against one nipple and I cry out, but not with pain, the ecstatic pulsing at my center begging for more as my lust-honey flows from my throbbing center. Lust-honey? Oh my God, I’m going to Hell.

Breathing hard and fast, he lifts his mouth and looks me in the eye, his stare intense and his intent is as clear as a wolf at night in a forest. All of a sudden, I feel like Red Riding Hood. And it feels damn good.

“I need to get this dress off you.”

“Rip it off.” My mouth spews the words on orders direct from my pussy.

Thank God he obeys. With one hand, he tears the dress off me, tossing it aside with a self-satisfied look of determined power on his face—and lust. Lots and lots of glorious lust lights his eyes.

“Your panties are next,” he warns.

I answer with a smile, trying to disguise my eagerness and he moves over me like a marauding Viking.

As he kneels over me my pussy melts even further as his intoxicating dimple overpowers me.

“Do you know how devastatingly sexy you are?”

He whispers the words and if I wasn’t so drunk on his touch and the look in his eyes, I’d scoff at his words.

“Don’t stop,” is my greedy response.

He gives me a slow smile as he lowers himself between my legs. “One track mind. You’re a greedy girl.”