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She reaches for my glass of whiskey, then turns and steps out of the hot tub. For a second, she’s poised there with her curvy figure silhouetted against the flickering candlelight. That arse of hers? Fuck, it’s the most phenomenal, jaw-dropping butt I’ve ever noticed and damn, if I don’t want to sink my teeth into that ripe peach of a behind right now.
"You’re staring," she murmurs without turning around.
"Are you complaining?"
"You’re the one delaying gratification with this stupid exercise in trying to put me in my place."
"It helps to increase erotic arousal, baby."
"Why don’t you admit that you’re doing it to have control over me?"
"Or maybe I’m simply into self-torture."
She pauses, then turns to glance at me over her shoulder. "Are you always this…honest?"
"Did you think I was going to deny the obvious? When it comes to you and me, I aim to give you the truth… Unless there’s a specific reason to hold back something."
She narrows her gaze. "So you’re holding something back from me?"
"The sooner you get the whiskey, the sooner you’ll find out."
"And just when the wordplay between us was heating up," she scoffs.
"Not the only thing that’s heating up, baby."
She lowers her gaze to my crotch, and her gaze widens. Color flushes her cheeks.
I can’t stop the smirk that twists my lips. "Does that answer your earlier question about my endowments?"
"How you use it remains to be seen, Brimstone." She picks up her own glass then flounces off in the direction of the door; but not before infusing an extra twitch into her arse. Heat flushes my skin, and sweat beads my shoulders. At this rate, I’m the one who’ll give in to my needs before I’ve made any headway in getting her to submit. And no way, am I going to let that happen. I need her to open herself up to me, to become vulnerable enough to sense what I feel for her.
She disappears through the doorway into the house, only to appear a few seconds later, with both my glass and hers. She walks down the steps and into the bubbling water, which rises to her waist by the time she reaches me. She holds out my glass. I take it from her, once more allowing my fingers to brush against hers. Her breath hitches. The pulse at the base of her throat flutters like the wings of a butterfly.
"You okay, Fire?"
"Why wouldn’t I be?"
I widen the space between my thighs, then jerk my chin toward it.
"You want me to sit…there?"
"You have a problem with that?"
"Of course, not." She turns around, then places her glass on the rim of the tub. Naturally, she has to bend over, which means that magnificent arse of hers is squarely in my face. My fingers itch, my thigh muscles grow rigid, and every brain cell in my head temporarily short circuit. Jesus H. Christ, I’d give anything to bury my teeth in that luscious behind—a reaction she, no doubt, expects me to have; which is why she’s flaunting her asset at me. But I am not going to give her the satisfaction. Still, I must have made a noise, for she peers around with a gloating look on her face. "You alright back there?"
A-n-d that’s the last straw. Two can play this game. And I don’t intend to lose. Not this round. I plant my hands on her hips, then lean in and bury my face in her lower cleavage.
20
Zara
"Oh, my god." The glass of wine topples, but I manage to catch it at the last moment. His face. He’s got his tongue between my arse cheeks. Heat flushes my cheeks. Myothercheeks. I try to wriggle away, but his grip on my waist pins me in place. I’m not a prude; not by a long shot. I’m a strong, independent woman who has always believed that the right guy is an illusion, that the only person I can rely on is myself. That the person who’ll appreciate me 'as is' has yet to be born. It’s something I have believed in firmly, and no one I’ve ever met has made me revisit this assumption. But the way this man is worshiping my body by licking that very intimate, very forbidden part of me is making me question every one of my beliefs. And it’s not only because of how my body is responding to his attention, how my heart is thudding against my ribcage like my favorite vibrator on its highest setting, how my nipples harden and my thigh muscles quiver, how I can’t stop myself from clenching down and pushing back into his face, and holy hell, that’s not what I want to do. I don’t want him to realize how turned on I am because he’s eating my arse. "Hunter, stop," I gasp.
It only spurs him on to drag his hands down to my cheeks and squeeze them apart even further. He pushes aside my bikini bottoms, then swipes his tongue over my puckered hole and my eyes roll back in my head. He twists his tongue inside my back channel, and I shudder. Pleasure contracts my lower belly, and my thighs squeeze together. My eyes roll into the back of my head, and I’m going to come. Oh, god, I’m going to—
He pulls out his tongue. "Don’t you dare come, Fire." I hear his voice as if from far away. And he’s stopped torturing me with that magic tongue of his. I push my butt back, trying to chase that sensation that brought me to the edge, and he laughs.
The twatwaffle snickers, and the lust recedes from my thoughts. I pull away—and this time, he lets me. I pivot around, straighten my bikini bottoms then raise my hand; but he catches it. Then he wipes the back of his free hand across his mouth. The gesture is so erotic, so salacious, that my pussy clenches. The shudder of lust that had retreated rushes forward in a wave again. My knees knock together, and I’d sink down into the water if it wasn’t for the fact he has a tight grip on my wrist.
