“I want this. I want you,” she whispered, threading her fingers through his hair and pulling his head down until their noses bumped and her lips grazed his. “I want you to touch me. Want you so deep inside me I’ll feel you tomorrow. Will you give it to me, Josh?”
He didn’t answer her. At least not with words. But with his mouth, his tongue, his hands? God, yes. He dug his fingers into her hips, jerking her closer so she would have no doubts of her effect on him. Unable to help himself, he ground his cock into the softness of her belly, even as he devoured her mouth. And she held nothing back from him. Not her response, not her sexy little whimpers and cries. Had a woman ever fully let herself be so uninhibited, so vulnerable with him before?
No.
And he’d never been that way with another woman.
But with Sophie? Regardless of his claims of not trusting her, he couldn’t throw up his protective shields with her. Not in this.
Here, they could be fully honest with each other. Naked in more than the baring of bodies.
Naked. As soon as the word entered his head, the longing, the greed in him intensified until it became a chant in his head.
Tearing his mouth from hers, he fisted the bottom of her T-shirt and yanked it over her head. And oh God. “All that time you were offering me coffee and arguing with me, you didn’t have a bra on?” he snarled, palming her pretty, firm breasts and thumbing the pink nipples. Already tight, they pebbled further, and Jesus himself couldn’t have stopped him from dipping his head and having a taste. And when she tugged on his hair, her groan accompanying the pricks across his scalp, he indulged himself and sucked her into his mouth, lashing the tip. Pulling free, he rubbed his lips across the beaded flesh. “If I’d known you were bare underneath that top, you would’ve been against the wall with my mouth on you as soon as I closed that door.”
He grazed her with his teeth, wringing another cry from her. It became his mission to drag them from her, to earn a shudder from her slender frame. His mission and his pleasure.
While he switched from one breast to the other, Sophie removed his jacket, pushing it off his shoulders and arms, casting it to the floor. His shirt followed. Her nails raked down his bare back, trailing fire in their wake, and it was his turn to shiver.
Releasing her with a soft pop, he straightened, shifting forward and moving her backward until the backs of her knees hit the edge of the mattress. But at the last second, she twisted and, grabbing his upper arms, turned him. They switched positions, and she pressed her palms to his chest, her touch like live coals on his skin.
“My turn,” she said, eyes so bright he swept a thumb underneath one. Then brushed his lips over the same spot. “Can’t distract me,” she breathed, and pushed.
He sank to the bed, his palms slapping down beside his thighs. She didn’t hesitate, but knelt in front of him, and his thighs automatically spread, making room for her. His breath hitched in his lungs, and his body froze. Anticipation, lust and excitement hurtled through him, and he could only stare down at this beautiful, sensual creature as she fumbled with his thin leather belt and the closure to his pants.
The metallic grind of the zipper ricocheted through the room, deafening in his ears. She pushed the edges apart, exposing his black boxer briefs. Together, they studied the almost obscene bulge of his thick, long erection. Was she remembering the same thing as he? How he fit inside that too-tight and too-perfect sex? How he’d had to work his way inside her, claiming her bit by bit as she softened around him, strangling his dick even as she embraced it?
Because, God, he remembered. Remembered and wanted it so bad he’d become one huge walking ache.
Finally, when she snagged the waistband, his paralysis broke. He covered her hand with his, squeezing.
“You don’t have to do this, sweetheart,” he rumbled, offering her an out. Even though the thought of her tongue sliding down his column nearly had him coming without one touch.
“I know I don’t have to,” she said, lifting her gaze from his cloth-covered dick to meet his. “I want to.”
Then she was gripping him. Stroking him.
Pleasure so sharp it danced on the edge of pain seized him, and, head thrown back, palms flattened on the mattress, he strained against it.
Nothing, fucking nothing, had ever felt as good as this woman’s hand on his cock.
Oh damn.
He stood corrected. Hot, wet warmth bathed the head, followed by gentle swipes of a tongue. His head jacked forward, needing to take in the sight of Sophie with her mouth full of his flesh.
Locking his muscles, he fought down the ball of fire coalescing and swirling at the base of his spine and lower. God, he was going to come. Right down her throat from just the swipe of her tongue. He closed his eyes but, seconds later, snapped them open, unable to not look. To stare. To behold this picture of knee-shaking carnality and brand it on his brain.
Lashes lowered, color painted her sharp cheekbones and one of those hungry whimpers escaped her as she swallowed him down, tongue rubbing, mouth sucking. Her fist pumped the bottom half of his pounding column, and her damp lips bumped her fingers each time she bobbed over him. Up and down, she tortured him, loving him, making him her slave.
Because right now he would do anything for her if she. Just. Didn’t. Stop.
“Sweetheart,” he growled, and the endearment was churned-up gravel in his throat. “You’re trying to break me with your greedy little mouth. And I’m
