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He resumes his spot on the floor, picking up my foot and setting it on his knee again. “Sure it was.” He chuckles. “Does it matter how old I am?”
No. Based on appearance, Lawrence has aged well. I don’t know much about the financial industry, but if he has been in it fifteen years, I assume he is in his early to midthirties at minimum.
“Not really.”
His hand massages near my ankle again and I melt into the couch. “Thirty-nine.” I stiffen and his hand stops. “Relax, Skylar. I’m not some creepy pervert,” he teases. My limbs loosen, the rest of my body following suit. “Yes, I’m older.” He cocks a brow. “That shouldn’t matter.” The hand massaging my lower calf inches up closer to my knee. “Tell me it doesn’t matter.”
“It doesn’t matter,” I say without hesitation.
A wicked half smile accents his stubble. His hand glides past my knee and works the muscles at the base of my thigh. “Tell me, Skylar. How old are you?”
Sweat dampens my skin as Lawrence holds my gaze and kneads my thigh. Ache builds between my legs. Hunger. Want. To clench my thighs and add friction where I need it most. I silently beg him to inch his palm higher. Run his finger over my swollen clit and slick folds. Quench the thirst building in my core.
But he doesn’t heed my silent cries.
“Twenty-three,” I answer, breathy.
His hand slides back down my leg. Before I protest, he removes the ice, lifts my ankle to his lips, and kisses the inside of the joint. “Better?”
My ankle? No clue. All I can focus on right now is his lips on my skin. On the heat no ice pack will dull.
I nod. “Mmmhmm.” I would embellish, but fear I will choke on my words.
He kisses the inside of my ankle again, his hand kneading up my calf once more. “You sure?” His lips follow the path of his hand as he hooks my ankle over his shoulder. One hand locks my leg to his shoulder while the other trails up, up, up my thigh.
Instinctually, I part my legs. Grant him permission to travel beneath the hem of my dress, to the lace of my panties. The skirt shifts higher, exposes a hint of what is to come. He groans against my skin. Nips the inside of my knee as his hand inches the dress higher. Spreads my legs wider as his tongue licks closer to my panties.
Then he stops. His mouth a breath from my center. The tip of his nose grazing the thin elastic band of my panties. He hovers and I forget how to breathe.
He doesn’t move. His breath hot on my lace-covered, bare mound. “Tell me to stop.”
My fingers comb through his thick, black strands, curl into a fist, and jerk his head back until our eyes meet. “Never.”
He growls. The muscles in his jaw flex. “Fuck, you smell like heaven.”
I lick my lips and hold his gaze. “Bet I taste like it too.”
“Jesus,” he grits out. His hands crawl up my thighs to the band of my panties, slowly peeling them down and off. He throws my other leg over his shoulder, scoops under my ass, and says, “Hold on.”
Before I register what he said, he scoots me to the edge of the couch, the dress riding up and over my hips. The tip of his nose runs up my slick seam and pauses just above my clit. He inhales deeply and kneads my hips. Then he licks up my center. Moans when he reaches my clit. Drags my hips closer and buries his mouth between my thighs.
Sweet mother of all things holy.
I fist his hair and the couch cushion. Dig my heels into his back and grind against his talented tongue. I release his hair, grab the hem of the dress, and tug it over my head. Unfasten my bra and free my breasts.
He tears his mouth away and rakes his eyes up my exposed flesh. “You’re a fucking dream, little phoenix. A dream I never want to end.”
“Take your shirt off,” I tell him. One by one, he unfastens the buttons and tosses the shirt aside. His tanned skin highlighted with tribal patterns on one arm. Something I will study later. Now, I have other priorities. “Lie on the floor.”
“Demanding,” he teases as he lies back.
“Only when I know what I want.”
“I’ll remember that.”
I straddle his face. “Best you do.”
He palms my ass as I lower myself. His tongue darting out and tasting me once more. I rock my hips back and forth, over and over, as I pinch my nipples.
