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He drew the dress off her, and the sun warmed her skin as he spread the garment out on the rock. He added his T-shirt to the layout, took off her bra, and put it aside.
“I guess I should have grabbed a blanket.” He smiled crookedly.
“It’s perfect just like this. I’m tough, remember?” She traced a finger over his tattooed chest, then flicked one of his nipple rings.
He grabbed her ass right where she had a bruise from his belt. She squeaked and went up on her toes, leaning against him to get away from his hand.
“Yes, so tough, my girl.” He chuckled and kissed her again, but his words hurt. She wasn’t his. Not really. At least not once they got back to Vegas.
He lifted her onto the laid-out clothing, coaxing her into stretching out on her back. There was an unexpected slant to the rock that made it easy to watch him. A small breeze skimmed over her, teasing her already puckered nipples, tickling her belly, cooling the arousal that slicked her thighs. He stretched over her, trailing kisses down between her breasts, the undersides of them, along her ribs, tasting her belly and flicking his tongue along her sides, nipping every once in a while, maybe to make sure she stayed awake. Like she’d fall asleep with him working his way slowly downward?
Impatience made her push down on the top of his head, mussing the stiff crest of Mohawked hair that never seemed to lie down.
“No,” he growled, smacking the inside of one of her thighs. “If you want my mouth on your pussy, you have to wait like a good girl.”
She groaned, having already spread her legs wide for him, eager for his mouth. That kind of presumption and initiative never would have crossed her mind with any of the other guys she’d slept with. But it wasn’t her fault. He was the one who made her feel so naughty, and sexy when she’d never felt sexy before. The man could do wicked things with his tongue, and he went down on her as if giving her screaming orgasms was his life’s purpose. She was getting obsessed with it, which was saying something, considering she’d never been a fan of oral.
“So impatient.” He tsked. A long lick from navel to hip turned into a bite at the end, and she sighed, but tried her best to stay still. The only problem with being the submissive one in a dynamic was not being able to hurry things along.
“It’s your fault for training my body to respond to you,” she pointed out. “Just last week I told Chloe I liked my vibrator better than I liked men.”
“Not anymore?”
“My vibrator doesn’t make my eyes cross, and it never spanks me or bites me.”
He smiled. “Yeah, I haven’t seen any that offer those features. It’s a serious gap in the personal massager market.”
“Maybe I’ll have to hire some guy to come by and make me a very sorry girl once a week.”
Luke’s eyes flashed with a mixture of arousal and anger. “You have my number.”
“But I thought—”
He nipped the inside of her thigh, erasing her line of thought entirely, and replacing it with quivering anticipation. What was coming next? A bite? A lick? His fingers?
Her breathing had turned ragged, and she held on to either edge of the rock she lay on, bracing herself for everything and nothing.
Gentle fingers spread her pussy, pressing her labia apart and down, exposing her clit hood. Her clit was throbbing, hopeful for his tongue. She was so close to coming just from the anticipation.
“I told you, if you need anything after I bring you home, don’t hesitate to let me know.”
“We can’t date.”
“No. But I can give you what you need once in a while, on the down low, until you find someone.” As he spoke, his breath drifted over her aching clit, and she had to force herself not to tilt her hips upward to his mouth. So fucking close to wher
e she wanted him.
Wait. Did he just offer to sneak around with her? Ugh. Putting that on the table right now wasn’t fair. She wasn’t capable of thinking clearly with his mouth only inches from her clit.
But to have this whenever she wanted it? To have him?
His offer was far too enticing, and not a good idea for either of them—especially when she was in imminent danger of falling for him. Things had already gone far enough.
Maybe too far.
He brushed his lips over her clit hood, back and forth, featherlight and maddening, drawing her back to the moment. Every touch was torture, and every pause was agony.
She tried to be a good girl and not to squirm, but soon she was digging heels against rock, hopefully following the movements of his mouth.
