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“Show me,” she whispered. “Show me how beautiful.”
A lazy smile pulled at his lips. Then he tugged at the silk until her breasts were exposed to him.
“I’ve dreamed about these,” he told her. “Every night for a year.”
Before she could answer, he closed his lips around her nipple. His mouth was warm, insistent, tugging at her.
His tongue devoured her and she wasn’t sure how much longer she could stay upright.
“Take me to bed,” she whispered. “Please.”
He released her and looked up, his eyes dark as ink. “Gladly.”
Michael scooped her up like she weighed nothing.
She waited for him to put her down as he reached the bottom of the stairs, because let’s face it, a one-hundred-and-thirty-pound woman and a flight of steps weren’t the best combination. But he didn’t.
He carried her. All the way to her room. Then dipped her so she could push the door handle, and he kicked their way inside.
“Do you work out?” she asked him.
“Of course. I have to keep up with athletes.”
And she had to keep up with him. Which on paper shouldn’t even be a competition. She had the advantage of youth.
And yet she was the one who was breathless as he threw her on the bed and pulled off his t-shirt and exposed his bare chest.
That first time, in New York, she’d been wine-hazy. He’d kissed her everywhere, made her scream his name.
The second time? She’d woken him up with her lips around him.
And the third they’d been so sleepy it had been sensual and slow.
But now every part of her felt alive. She pulled off her tank, then unbuttoned her shorts, shimmying them down until she was left in the scantest lace panties. Little more than a triangle.
He looked at her, swallowing hard.
“Come here.” She crawled across the mattress toward where he was standing. He smirked as she pushed herself up, pressing her hands on his chest, kissing him softly.
“I’m going to make you scream my name,” she whispered, and he laughed.
But then she dipped, unfastened his pants, scooped out his hard, thick length, and pressed her lips against the tip.
And suddenly he wasn’t laughing any more.
“Grace…”
“I said scream, not whisper.” She slid her lips around him, taking as much as she could. Satisfied by the long groan that rumbled from his lungs as she flicked her tongue against him, tasting him, teasing him.
His fingers tangled in her hair. He said her name again, and she loved it. Loved doing this to him.
Loved being in control.
She was still in her panties. He was still wearing his pants and shorts, though she’d pushed them around his thighs to give her better access. She sucked him down further, winning another delicious rumble from him. She dug her fingers into his ass as he rocked against her.
“Fuck. Grace.” His voice was louder this time. More ragged.
She looked up at him, still swallowing him whole. His eyes were dark, his jaw tight. His fingers dug against her scalp. She fluttered her eyelids and his cheek twitched.
