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Something crashes to the ground—my paper towel roll holder, I think, but neither of us so much as pauses.
He peels my shirt over my head. I tear at his buttons like a madwoman, my lips greedy on his shoulders, his pecs, bending down so I can trace my tongue over the ridges of his stomach.
Mark lets out a grunt of pleasure, allowing my lips to play over his stomach, my fingers to flit over the front of his jeans before his fingers tangle in my hair, pulling my head back up for a blistering kiss.
He slips a hand around to my back, unfastening the bra with a single flick.
My bra gone, he devours my breasts, hand on one, mouth at the other, switching back and forth with relentless determination until I’m panting his name.
He kisses me again, fingers finding the button of my jeans.
“Wait,” I manage against his mouth. “My boots…”
He lets out a growl of frustration, then pulls back and reaches for my feet. A moment later, both boots hit the ground, my jeans and thong quickly joining them.
I let out an embarrassed giggle as I realize I’m completely naked on my own kitchen counter. “Hold up, we can’t—”
His fingers delve between my legs, middle finger circling slowly over my clit before dipping down and sinking inside me.
I tighten around his finger with a moan.
“What was that we can’t?” he asks, his mouth pausing against my breast, his fingers stilling and pulling away.
“Never mind,” I say, grabbing his wrist and pushing his hand back toward my throbbing center.
I feel him smile wickedly against my flesh before his tongue wraps around my nipple, fingers teasing, circling, spreading…
Mark bends down, pushing me back gently as his tongue joins his fingers between my legs, licking between my folds with soft, sinful strokes.
As with before, he has me on the edge of orgasm in an embarrassingly short amount of time, and even as my hips arch to his mouth, there’s a part of me that wants something more…
My turn.
I wriggle away, and he pulls back in surprise as I hop off the counter. “Is this not okay?”
“It will be,” I say, pressing a hand to his chest and slowly walking my fingers down to his jeans.
Mark gives a grunt of surprise as I lower to my knees, tugging the denim and boxers downward until I have access to him—all of him.
My lips and tongue tease, keeping my touch light and fleeting, wanting him to need it. To need me.
His head is tipped back, looking beautifully male, as my lips roam over him, until he can take no more and twines his fingers in my hair, looking down and meeting my eyes.
“Please.”
His gruff plea is perhaps one of the hottest things I’ve experienced in my life, and I give him exactly what we both want. I wrap my lips around him and suck, gently at first, then more enthusiastically as his hands urge me on.
He lets me control the situation for only a few minutes before he takes what he wants, his touch both gentle and commanding as he holds my head still, thrusting into my greedy mouth.
I look up and meet his eyes, offering, maybe even begging to stay on my knees as he goes over the edge.
He bites his lips in a delicious moment of indecision before leaning down and pulling me to my feet.
“With you,” he says against my mouth, capturing my lips in a tongue-tangling kiss.
His arm goes around my waist, lifting me so my legs wrap around his waist.
He walks me gently backward to where we started the encounter, my back to the fridge, the cold surface against my back a perfect contrast to his warmth pressed to my front.
