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Then again, I won’t complain about unwrapping gifts.
That nipple I wanted earlier is now bare and puckering in the sudden chill that comes from being disrobed. It’s demanding my attention. And who am I to deny it?
As I suckle it into my mouth, Clara gently tugs at my hair. I want to tell her to pull harder, to fight and claw, I can take it—fuck, the sudden unexpected image of her taking complete charge over me in bed has me throbbing along her thigh.
I’m not the kind of man to surrender control to anyone.
She’s not the kind of woman to demand it.
That’s probably what makes the concept so fucking hot.
Tonight, though, I want to simply enjoy her. I want to pound in the notion that this is her home as much as it is mine. I want her to sob my name into my shoulder as we both struggle to keep quiet because, at the end of it all, we’re good, responsible parents who don’t want to wake our little one up.
I smooth a hand over her stomach and tease myself once again with the thought of her carrying another little one. Even the soft swell of her recovering body right where a baby would be is enough to make me groan with a new aching desire.
I want to drown myself in these daydreams until they become reality.
She helps me slip her camisole off by wiggling her shoulders through. My hands get rid of her matching shorts with a quick tug of the flimsy fabric. As soon as she’s free, our mouths crash together.
“Dem…” I hear her moan in playful protest at the sound of shredding silk.
“I’ll buy you new ones,” I growl lightly as I kiss a fiery path down her body. “Fuck, I’ll buy you a whole new wardrobe every day of your life just so I can rip it off you.”
Her giggle melts into a gasping moan when I press a kiss to her mound—and then lightly bite it, sucking the soft flesh between my teeth to add another lovebite where only I will ever see it.
“Dem…” is now a plea rather than a protest.
She thinks she wants me to drive into her already. To fuck her into the mattress until she forgets anything else but the blossoming heat where we melt into each other.
But what she trulyneedsis something that can’t be rushed.
I take my precious time trailing warm, loving kisses over the juncture of her thighs where they meet her hips. More than a few times, I can’t resist flicking my tongue over her delicious skin. I’m rewarded with another sigh, another pleading moan.
She needs to know that I’m going to take care of her. That Iwantto take care of her.
And, truth be told, I need that, too.
I need to know I’m redeemable.
The look on her face is worth the time it takes to kiss a path from her hip to her knee. Clara is in a whole other world of her own, and I feel a unique swell of pride at being the one to send her there.
I switch to the other leg and kiss my way back to her center, never once taking my eyes off her beautiful, expressive face.
It’s so tempting to dip my tongue inside her. I want it, she wants it, so why not? But I’m determined to make every momentwith her better than the last—and that includes all the moments in bed, or in my office, or bent over the hood of my car… everywhere.
How does the saying go?
Any flat surface will do.
But I keep teasing. More kisses, more nibbles, more tiny, nipped bruises just so she can remember tomorrow how good this feels right now.
Then, finally, I take pity on her whimpers and lap up her honey. Slow, languid. Liquid. My eyes roll back in my head at the sheer pleasure of tasting her sweet juices, at smelling her incredible scent.
She’s everything I’ve ever wanted. Everything I never knew I needed.
I keep her firmly in my grasp but I coax her hips into motion as I push and pulse and swirl my tongue in and out of her warm depths.Fuck my face, gorgeous. Her fingers have a death-grip on my hair and I fucking love it.
With one deep scoop of my tongue inside her, I drag it up until I can circle her clit, flick it once, twice, three times… and then latch my lips around the sweet nub.
