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Warmth spreads through me at his compliment. Shrugging my shoulders, I flip the water on hot. “It’s fine. None of them were sticking around long enough anyway.”
He turns and faces me, maneuvering until he’s practically pressed against my chest. “A real man helps in the kitchen, Sweetheart. A good man cleans up after. The better man worships his woman right there on the counter and makes her come three ways to Sunday.”
All of the oxygen in the room just…evaporates. I can’t seem to suck in a breath, especially with his mouth so very close to mine. Very full, very sexy lips. My eyes move from his lips to his eyes, finding them wide and dark and trained directly on me. I have no idea which one of us moves first, but it doesn’t matter. What matters is the way his arms wrap around me, caging me and pulling me close at the same time. Our lips meet in the middle, a frenzy of hunger and need.
My hands dive into his hair, gently tugging and pulling as I thread my fingers through his dark locks. He keeps it short, yet with just enough length I can get my hands on it. Each time I tug, his hands tighten on my ass, bringing me closer to his hard body (and boy, do I mean hard) until there’s no way air could even slip between our bodies. Our tongues dance, our teeth nip, and our lips devour in a slow dance that’s days in the making.
Weeks.
Months.
Hell, years.
He lifts me easily in the air, my legs wrapping around his waist. Latham sets me on the counter, positioning himself right where I need him most. The friction is marvelous, yet frustrating at the same time because it’s not enough. It may never be enough. I moan in pleasure as he grinds himself against my center, teasing me until I’m practically crawling out of my skin.
More. I definitely need more.
I grip the back of his T-shirt and give it a tug, pulling it free from his waistband. As if sensing my direction, Latham removes his lips from mine just long enough to pull his shirt over his head and discard it on the floor. His chest is something they write songs about. It’s hard, muscular, and has a tattoo; enough to ensure women everywhere have wet dreams for days to come.
My hands glide down his pecs, loving the way the light matting of chest hair tickles my palm. His nipples are small and hard and my tongue waters to taste his skin. “I showed you mine, now you show me yours,” he whispers in a gravelly voice, cupping my breasts through my tank top.
“Is that how this works?” I tease, reaching down and cupping his balls.
“Only if you want it to,” he replies, his brown eyes locking firmly on mine.
My only answer is to reach down and pull my top up and over my head. I’m wearing one of my older satin sets, mostly because I didn’t want to get my good stuff all sweaty and gross while outside working, but I can’t seem to find an ounce of concern that Latham is seeing an older pair. In fact, if the way his eyes are devouring my breasts is any indication, I’d say he doesn’t mind at all that the dark blue material is slightly worn and has a little pilling. “Jeezus, Harper, you’re fucking gorgeous,” he whispers, staring down at the mounds that spill over the top of the bra.
“You’re not so bad yourself,” I reply, unable to stop myself from continuing to touch his chest.
I feel him reach around my back to the clasp. “May I?” he asks politely, his eyes on me the entire time.
“I had hoped you would. I mean, it’s only fair.”
He smirks. “It is.” Then, he releases the clasp and frees my breasts.
That’s when I hear him gasp. “When the fuck did you get that?” he asks, his voice deep and hoarse.
Glancing down at the small silver ring through my left nipple, I shrug. “A few years back.”
“Holy fucking shitballs, I think I just came in my pants.” He has yet to remove his eyes from my left breast.
Rolling mine, I reach down and cup his balls. “You’ve never seen a nipple ring?”
“Never in real life,” he says, his eyes finally returning to mine. “May I?”
I can’t help but smile. “So polite. I’m not used to this side of Latham Douglas.”
“I have manners for days, but you’re about to see the end of them. My rope is quickly starting to fray.”
“Then you must hurry. Before the rope…frays.”
You’d think I granted him access to heaven. His eyes seem to sparkle with excitement as his head dips forward and his tongue comes in contact with my nipple. Okay, so maybe he isn’t the only one in danger of coming too quickly. A gasp spills from my lips as he sucks the ring into his mouth, flicking and toying with both the ring and the skin it’s attached to.
“Fucking hell, Harper,” he groans, lapping at my skin with his magnificent tongue. After I got my piercing, I was told my nipples would be more sensitive with arousal, but holy shit, I’ve never experienced anything like this before. My entire body is on fire, hungry and driven with desire. Now, I know exactly what he meant when he talked about his rope starting to fray.
I realize all too quickly he could easily make me come, just by sucking on my nipple and playing with the piercing. My pussy is throbbing, completely soaked through my panties, and begging for more. I reach down and try to grab his cock, but the angle is awkward and I can’t get a grip.
“Patience, Sweetheart,” he whispers against my skin, and I have nothing left to do but relax and enjoy the ride.
