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“No, sweetheart,” he groaned, capturing her hand before she worked the zipper down. “Not yet. I want you way too much to rush this, and I’ll be damned if I let you get away from me without making sure you remember tonight.” And that she would give him a chance for another night, which he was pretty damn sure wasn’t going to come easy and he already knew he wanted. She might justify their bedroom adventure as here and gone, but he wouldn’t be here if that’s what this was, if there wasn’t more to this. She pushed to her toes and kissed him, and the instant her tongue touched his, he was a goner. He lost himself in the honey-sweet taste of her, the feel of her skin against his. Quickly, she unzipped his jeans and pressed her hand inside his boxers, her slender fingers wrapping around his shaft. Blake moaned and pulled away from her, squatting to help her take off her boots. He had to slow things down, otherwise it would be a “wham, bam, thank you ma’am” experience that he was certain as Sunday would haunt him the rest of his life.
“Now, where were we?” he said, her boots gone now, and his, too. He ran his hands up her legs as he stood, to settle on her hips. “Oh, yeah. We were talking about how you’d agreed that I’m in control so you can just relax and let me take you away.”
“We didn’t agree to anything of the sort,” she said, swallowing hard as he worked the front of her jeans.
“Pretend.” He tugged her jeans down and noticed the blond triangle of neatly trimmed curls that came into view. He glanced down and then up, and playfully tried to put her at ease. “No underwear?”
“I don’t like panty lines,” she said, stepping out of her pants without hesitation.
“Of course,” he said, wrapping his arm around her to comfort her. “I hate panty lines.” He gently tweaked her nipples, then soothed them with his thumbs.
“Aren’t you the funny man?” There was a breathless quality to her voice that told him he was getting to her, and he liked it. He liked it a lot.
“It’s not my intention to be funny,” he assured her, kicking her jeans aside. “In fact, why don’t I show you just how seriously I’m taking your pleasure right now?” He dropped to one knee, settling his hands on her hips. “Do I seem like I’m trying to be funny?”
She wet her lips. “No. Funny isn’t the word that comes to mind.”
He pressed his lips to her stomach. “Then what word comes to mind?” He kissed her again then ran his tongue around her belly button. Her belly quivered. The vulnerability it showed made his chest expand, tighten. She was like a delicate flower, and a sense of protectiveness toward her surprised him. He didn’t want to keep her at a distance, which defied everything he’d taught himself about self-preservation. He glanced up at her, aware she’d yet to reply. “What are you thinking?”
“Am I supposed to be thinking right now?”
He smiled against her stomach, pleased with that answer. If she wasn’t thinking, she was letting go; she was trusting. “Not if I can help it.” He slid his fingers into the slick heat of her sex, his cock pulsing at the intimate touch.
She made a soft sound, squeezing her thighs around his hand. “We really should move to the bed before I fall down.”
“I won’t let you fall,” he promised, his lips traveling over her soft, silky skin, his teeth grazing her sexy hip bone, the curve of her waist.
“If you keep doing what you’re doing,” she whispered, “I’m not sure you can stop me.”
His fingers delved past the slick folds of her sex. He sought the sweet spot he knew would drive her wild. And he wanted to drive her wild. He wanted to see her let go of her control, to relinquish her prim and proper persona fully—for him, with him. “I want to taste you, Darla.” He lifted one of her legs over his shoulder, his fingers explored her more intimately, his thumb flickering over her clit. “Any objection?” He leaned in and licked her clit, glancing up at her, arching a brow.
“You don’t really expect me to say ‘no,’ do you?”
He chuckled, licking her again and again until she gasped and her head fell back against the wall, her dark lashes sweeping her ivory cheeks. Blake suckled her swollen nub, stroking her with his fingers, still seeking that sweet spot that would drive her wild. He knew he’d found it when she moaned deeply and laced her fingers into his hair. The more he licked, the more he delved and stroked and teased, the firmer her fingers tightened on his hair. She rocked her hips, pumping against his fingers. He felt her stiffen, heard her suck in a breath. She went still—and he knew she was on the edge ready to tumble, one lick away from orgasm. He suckled her instead, drawing out her pleasure, then swirled his tongue around her nub. Her hands flattened on the wall a moment before her body jerked, hips lifting against him. Spasms spiraled around his fingers. His body reacted instantly, his cock a hard ridge against his stomach, ready for her the next time she came.
