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“You shouldn’t take off my coat.”
Not saying a word, he unfastens the buttons, pushing the heavy material down my arms. He drapes it over a chair in the sitting area before removing his and doing the same.
“What else?” he asks as he returns to me.
“You shouldn’t kiss me again, this time slow.”
His eyes pierce my soul as he lowers his mouth, the warmth of his body radiating through me. His motions are so tender, every spine-tingling caress of his tongue making my heart squeeze.
His lips are soft yet demanding, commanding my attention and stirring a flurry of emotions.
“I forgot how much I loved kissing you.” I place my hands on the lapels of his suit jacket, gaze trained on his chest.
“I haven’t.” He touches my chin, forcing my eyes up. “I’ve thought of little else for the past nine years.” He pushes a tendril of hair behind my ear.
“Then kiss me again, Creed.” I lift myself onto my toes. “Don’t stop kissing me until we have no choice but to stop.”
“Gladly, princess.”
This time, there’s nothing soft or gentle about the way he slams his mouth against mine. It’s not a kiss as much as it is a claiming, hunger dripping from every inch of him as he grips my hip and steers me toward the bed, not pulling away until the back of my legs hit the mattress.
“What else shouldn’t we do?” He leans his forehead against mine.
I lick my lips, swallowing hard to catch my breath. “You definitely shouldn’t take my boots off.”
“Your wish is my command.”
He helps me sit on the bed, eyes intense as he kneels in front of me. He smoothes a hand up the inside length of my boot, stopping at the zipper before slowly lowering it. Every drawn-out second is an exercise in patience, my pulse increasing with every brush of his fingers against me. Finally, he removes the boot and tosses it onto the floor.
But instead of immediately taking the other one off, he lifts my leg, trailing toe-curling kisses from my ankle and up the inside of my knee.
I moan, gripping the duvet below me as desire courses through my veins. I want to squeeze my thighs together to release some of the pressure mounting inside me, but that would mean not feeling his mouth on my skin.
That’s the last thing I want, especially as he inches up my thighs and toward my center.
“How about this?” he asks, his unshaven jawline scraping my skin. “Should I be doing this?”
“Fuck no.”
“Good.”
He moves to my other leg and makes quick work of removing my remaining boot. Then he drags his tongue along my ankle, traveling the same path as he did on the other leg.
I pant, desperate to feel his face buried between my thighs, but at the last minute, he retreats, torturing me in a way I didn’t think possible.
“Creed,” I moan, attempting to squeeze my legs together. But he won’t let me, gripping my knees and pushing them apart, depriving me of any sort of release.
“And what’s your opinion on this?”
He grazes his hand up my thigh once more, heat flaming in his stare as he ghosts his thumb against my panties.
“Should I lick your pussy? Tongue-fuck your cunt?”
“God, no.” I move in time with his motions, chasing that feeling of bliss only Creed’s given me. “That would most definitely be against the rules.”
“You’re right. It would be.”
Abruptly, he stands.
