Page 78 of I Kissed The Boss


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“Really.” Matt tore off his t-shirt and she stepped back, looking on in admiration.

She got a full-on view of that bronzed chest, the hard pecs, the striated muscle of his shoulder, the bunching of the muscle in his arms, the bulges of biceps and streamlined forearms, the hard ridges of defined abs. He was glorious. If men could be called beautiful, he was definitely freaking gorgeous. Her mouth actually watered, and her hands itched just to feel even an inch of all that hard muscle and golden skin. And then he shed his pants. He stepped out of them and let her see what she was really in for. She forgot all about being self-conscious that she was naked. Because he was too.

Her gaze was immediately drawn to his cock, which was so hard it stood nearly straight up along his chiseled abs. Her sex ached at the sight of him naked. He looked good in clothes, but he looked much better without.

When she looked up, she blushed painfully as her eyes met Matt’s. He knew she’d been looking at him, studying him, wondering how the hell he’d actually fit inside of her.

“Stop thinking,” he said huskily. “I want you to stop thinking and start feeling.”

“Feeling?” she asked woodenly.

“Yes. Feeling. I want you to enjoy every single second of what I’m going to do to you in that shower.”

A shiver raced up her spine and goosebumps formed all over her arms and legs. There was a promise in his voice, deep and rich and so darkly sexy. It killed the last bit of common sense or reserve she might have had left.

Her legs bucked beneath her, but Matt caught her. He hauled her into him and when he kissed her, it was even hotter yet. He propelled them into the shower, beneath an unrelenting spray that felt like paradise against her oversensitive skin. I need this. I need him. She’d promised herself that she wouldn’t do this again. That she wouldn’t give someone the capability to hurt her, but she couldn’t stop.

And then he dropped to his knees and she learned firsthand what paradise truly was.

CHAPTER 12

Matt

She tastes so good. So damn good.

Callie melted against him, rocking her hips into his face, grinding against his mouth. He took his time with her, exploring and teasing and tasting and learning. She inflamed every single one of his senses and then some. He felt drunk and dizzy. The whole world felt like it had been tipped on its side and he was doing his best just to hang on.

He swirled his tongue over Callie’s sex. She was perfect. Her taste was perfect. The water cascaded down her heaving breasts, over her flat stomach, mingling with the spicy musk of her arousal. It mixed together on his tongue and slid down his throat when he swallowed. Callie’s harsh little pants turned to wild moans and matched the groans that were torn from his throat.

For someone who was so proper at work all the time, she was a burning, fiery pillar against him. Her hips bucked wildly, her nails dug into his scalp and shoulders in turns. She writhed and whimpered and moaned as he delved into her with his tongue, lapped at her with his mouth, worshipped her in every way he knew how.

He gently ran a finger over her sex, finding her tight entrance. She gasped when she felt him there. Just as he entered her, slowly, he flicked his tongue over her clit. She vibrated against him and let out another wild moan. Her fingernails dug in so hard, he was sure they made little crescent marks in his shoulders.

“Oh, god,” she panted. “Yes. Matt…”

He began to work her with his finger and suckle her clit at the same time. Her body responded eagerly. She came hard a minute later, her cries echoing through the shower. He lapped at her, slowly, gently, and marveled at all she made him feel. He felt alive. More alive than he ever had in his life. He felt… like it was right. Like what they were doing was always meant to happen. He’d never been so fucking turned on from pleasuring another person. He was rock hard and right on the verge himself.

Matt gave Callie a second to recover and then he scooped her up in his arms. He managed to hit the shower dial on the way out. He didn’t bother with towels. He carried her naked and dripping wet and entirely glorious, straight to his bed. He didn’t flick on the lights since he knew she’d probably protest, and he didn’t want to make her uncomfortable. There was a stream of light filtering in from the hallway that gave the room just the right amount of golden glow. Enough to see, but enough that she wouldn’t be shy.

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