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I toss it on the floor close to his feet and reach behind me to unclasp my bra, arching my back just a touch to make my girls look slightly more ample than they are. My bra is heavily padded, my boobs are solidly average, but what they lack in cup size, they totally make up for in perkiness.
Horace cocks a brow. “Would you like some music for your striptease?”
I pause, one hook still clasped at the back. “Are you sure you’re not a pimp?”
“Almost certain.” His sexy smirk turns into a full-on grin. “See? No gold tooth.”
“Maybe you have a removable grill, like a mouthguard, so you can moonlight as required. Hedge funds investor by day, pimp by night.”
“That’s quite the wild imagination you have.” Horace steps up to the edge of the shower and slips a single finger into my belt loop. “Come out of there so I can turn on the shower and help rid you of your clothes.”
That actually sounds way less daunting than a striptease, so I acquiesce and let him tug me back out onto the marble floor.
I tip my chin up and he drops his, bending until our lips meet. It’s a bit of a distance, considering he’s quite tall and I’m . . . not. His office-work-soft fingertips follow the edge of my bra until he finds the clasp and deftly flicks it open. The straps slide off my shoulders and I take a single step back, which Horace doesn’t seem to appreciate, based on the low growl rumbling up from his chest.
I pat his left pec and suck his bottom lip before disengaging our lips. It’s not easy since he keeps coming after mine. “Just trying to free the nipples.”
“Right. Yes. Free away.” He allows a few inches of space between our bodies. It’s enough that I can drop my bra on the floor. I kick it out of the way so I don’t end up tripping on the slippery satin, or getting my foot caught in the strap—yes, it’s happened before.
Horace cups the girls, somewhat covetously and sighs, thumbs brushing over my nipples. “Fucking hell, Reggie, your tits are absolute perfection.”
The right one is actually half a cup bigger than the left, but based on how enamoured he seems to be with my boobs, I don’t think he cares. “Thanks.”
He eye-fucks my nipples, circling them in a tiny wax-on-wax-off motion. Suddenly, and without any kind of preemptive warning, he bows forward and aggressively sucks the right one while pinching the left.
“Holy shit!” I yelp, grabbing a fistful of his hair, smiling as I completely screw up that perfect part of his.
He pops off to ask, “Too rough?”
“Nope, just unexpected.”
“Excellent.” He switches to the left boob, giving it the same harsh suck, bite, lick treatment.
There’s not a lot I can do to further the clothing removal situation until he’s had his one-on-one time with each boob. Eventually, he decides they’ve had enough of his love—at least for the time being. He releases my nipple from the hoover-like suction of his mouth. “I would take voice and guitar lessons, and a poetry writing class so I could compose an ode about the majesty of your tits.”
Annndd . . . he’s back to ravaging my mouth with his tongue.
I sincerely hope that post-shower I get to find out what other talents his tongue possesses. While we kiss, I get to work on the buttons on his shirt. I’m apparently not fast enough for him. He yanks roughly on his tie, breaking our kiss only long enough to get it over his head. We fight over the last button, and then we’re both gloriously naked from the waist up.
Horace goes for the button on my pants with one hand and his own with his other.
“No.” I raise a single finger, and both his hands shoot up like I’m pointing a gun at him.
He looks somewhere between feral and devastated.
I poke myself in the boob. “I do you first.”
His eyebrows pop, a slow grin turning up his kiss swollen lips. “Where are my manners? Ladies first, of course.” He motions to his crotch.
He’s wearing black trousers, so any potential hint I may have at what’s behind that fly is masked. At least for now. It sort of seems like he’s got a significant amount going on there, but it’s hard to tell. I allow my gaze to follow the trail of dark hair to his navel—it’s a nice innie—and up over his washboard abs, to the cut lines of his chest, heavy shoulders, and deliciously thick biceps. His body is just as perfect as his face, at least from the waist up. Please God, let it also be perfect from the waist down.
I take a deep breath, preparing myself for the unveiling, and shake out my hands.
“You look like you’re getting ready to go a round in the ring, darling.” Ho’s voice holds a hint of humor, and under that, a faint thread of unease.
That makes two of us. I’ll be so disappointed if he has one of those stubby half Coke can penises, or worse, a pencil dick.
I meet his amused, moderately wary gaze. “Sorry.” I bite my lip for impact and bat my lashes.
