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He unzipped the dress, and she wiggled it down to the floor, stepped out of it one shiny black high-heeled pump after the other. He could tell by the economy of her movements, she had no clue how sexy she looked as she unhooked her black bra and tossed it on the floor near the closet, then did the same with her black lace panties.
She stood naked in front of him. His breathing caught. So that’s where the phrase came from—breathtaking.
“You’re beautiful,” he whispered.
She covered his mouth with her index finger—be quiet—then reached into his boxers and put her hand around the underside of him, moving once, twice, up and down the shaft, feeling the head with the pads of her fingers and letting go of him only long enough for him to squirm out of his remaining clothes.
He stood still while she worked him, alternately watching her and looking away. If he focused too hard on what she was doing, it would be over in a heartbeat.
Silently, he counted backward.
100, 99, 98 . . .
He looked down just as she stroked his glans with the side of her thumb. She was going to require a whole different scale.
1000, 999, 998 . . .
Probably sensing he was dangerously close, she let go of him and studied the floor, like she wasn’t sure what to do next. He reached his hand to lift her chin with his finger, but again she turned away. Not sharply, but enough to make it clear she didn’t want his tenderness.
He waited. He could go slow. Slow was okay.
Actually, slow was good.997 . . .
She took a few steps toward the bed and climbed onto it. He followed her in silence, not daring to say anything. And then she got on all fours and shifted her ass back toward him.
973, 972, 971 . . .
He knelt in back of her, circling his hands over the smooth skin of her hips. With each pass, he widened the terrain of her body that he touched until he was caressing the globes of her ass and her thighs. Moist heat radiated from between them.
892 . . .
With one hand, he reached between her parted legs and stroked her, dragging his finger along her slippery folds. If her wetness didn’t tell him she was ready for him, the moan she let out, and the drop of her head in relief, did.
But maybe she didn’t want him inside her so soon. He felt stupid inquiring; he had slept with plenty of women. Here was someone he barely knew unexpectedly giving herself over to him. It was not the time to ask for directions.
He touched her some more, making tiny circles around her swollen bead, moving along her lips, sliding one finger, then two, inside her. He tried to tune out the noises of pleasure she made as he moved steadily in her velvet heat.
Only it was a lost cause, impossible not to watch her, impossible not to bask in those sounds.
He was adrift hell-knows-where in the 500s when she reached back for him. With her soft, warm hand around his shaft, she guided him toward her entrance.
Shit!Condom. For the love of everything holy, please. Please. Wallet.
He patted her ass. “Give me a second; I hope I have a condom,” he whispered. “You don’t . . . ?”
Her head dropped again as she sighed. Of course she didn’t have a rubber laying around. “I can’t get pregnant, and you won’t catch anything.”
“I’m not worried about me.” He trusted she was clean, and he had been tested. Even so, she shouldn’t put herself at risk—with him or anyone else.
“It’s fine—I don’t care.”
Whoa. “It’s not fine. You need to protect yourself.”
She turned and glared. “Don’t lecture me.”
The mood was rapidly evaporating. “You’re right, I’m sorry. I’m going to check.”
He touched her low back gently to reinforce his apology before locating the billfold in the heap of gray cloth that was his pants on her bedroom floor.
