“I…” Nell drew in a deep breath, a little overwhelmed. Sex is just sex, isn’t it? We get naked and do the thing? But she didn’t like to be pinned down; she usually did find herself on top. And the thought of letting go of that, of having Eamonn’s big body covering hers—it was too much: overwhelmingly sexy, and the mental image of it made her bite her lip to hold in a wanton sound, but… too much. “Yeah, I think I need to feel in control of things right now. On top would be good. If you don’t mind.”
That earned a soft chuckle from him, a husky, intimate laugh. “Either way is good for me, Nella-bella. I’ll do whatever you need.”
Her knees felt unaccountably weak at the offer. Wanting to deny it, to maintain the upper hand, she perched on the end of the bed and said, “Strip for me, rock god.”
“Fuck me, you don’t mess around, do you?” he muttered. “All right. Game on.”
He took his phone from his pocket and fiddled with it for a minute before setting it down on the mantelpiece, a dirty grin on his face. Moments later, she realized what he was up to, as the opening to “Pour Some Sugar on Me” filled the room. He met her raised eyebrows with a wink and swaggered across the room to take up a spot in front of her, close enough to reach out and touch, just as the lyrics kicked in. He started to move, completely unselfconscious as he danced, taking evident pleasure in the sensuality of it. She tried not to stare at the thrust and grind of his hips, and then his hands went to the hem of his t-shirt and he began to work it upward.
She could feel her face getting hot. “I didn’t really think you’d—”
“You asked, babe. Just enjoy it.” Inch by inch, to the rhythm of the music, he uncovered the inked skin of his abdomen, taut and lean, with a fine trail of dark gold hair running down into his jeans. He kept going until the t-shirt was up around his shoulders, giving her a good look at the tattooed angel and how extremely good he was at rhythmic movement. Then, as his face disappeared under the fabric for a moment, he put a little extra bump and grind into his hips, drawing her attention to the evident arousal there, straining the denim.
The t-shirt hit the floor, and he was grinning at her, all too clearly enjoying his performance. He clasped his hands behind his head and did a smooth body roll, showing off his control and muscles. It was unabashedly sexual — a promise, a demonstration. He’s owning this. Reveling in it, even. And he really did have a spectacular body to show off.
He kicked off his boots, then brought his hands to his belt, playing with the buckle before slowly unbuckling it and sliding the leather free, stripper-dancing with it like he’d been on the wrong kind of stage all his life.
The belt dropped to the floor and Eamonn thumbed the button at the waistband of his jeans as if to ask, are you ready for this? Nell felt her mouth go dry. She nodded.
He slowly unbuttoned his fly and shimmied the denim down his thighs, revealing black boxer briefs that left little to the imagination. Very nice. He gave his hips a little pump to the music, pushed the jeans down farther — stopped with everything bunched around his knees. Their eyes met. There’s no graceful way to remove tight jeans while standing up, Nell thought, unable to suppress a bubble of laughter at his predicament. So sexy and slick, but those jeans weren’t coming off easily.
“A stripper wouldn’t wear jeans like this,” Eamonn muttered as the song came to an end. He came and sat beside her on the end of the bed, skinning out of his pants and socks and kicking them away. “Now you’re overdressed,” he said, putting a hand on her thigh. His palm felt hot against her leg. She felt as though, with the slightest slip of her self-control, she could burn up like a parched forest in fire season.
“I despise work clothes. Business flipping casual,” she said, starting to unbutton her blouse.
“Want me to do that?” he offered.
“I’ve got it.” Her voice sounded a touch firmer than she’d intended. I’m in charge of how this will unfold; I refuse to get swept away. And his fingers fiddling with buttons down her front, near but not quite touching her breasts, felt like handing control of the situation back to him. Trying for a lighter tone, she said, “You looked like you were enjoying that. Dancing.”
“I like dancing,” he agreed. His hand stroked her thigh, and she almost squirmed.
“And the stripper moves?”
“Choreography for music videos. You didn’t see the one for ‘Human Lollipop’?” He stood up and did another body roll, close enough that she could pretty much count it as a lap dance. Cupped himself and gave his erection a stroke through his underwear, his eyes steady on her with overwhelming desire. “Dancing for you, lovely…” He shook his head. “You’ve got me so hard, I can’t think about anything else. It’s taking everything I’ve got not to throw you down on my bed and fuck you senseless.”
“You couldn’t throw me anywhere,” Nell reminded him, refusing to acknowledge the thrill his words gave her.
“I know. I’m just telling you I want you.” He was already standing between her thighs, and he cocked an eyebrow in question before he rested his hands lightly on her shoulders and bent his head, giving her plenty of time and room to evade his kiss if she wished. But she lifted her mouth to his, instantly delighting in the pressure of his lips against hers, opening to his tongue and licking into his mouth in turn.
A rush
