The top hung up on her hips, but he abandoned it, instead cupping her exposed breasts, his eyes tracking his movements. “Now that is what I call architectural perfection,” he rumbled, his mouth beside her ear, feathering warm breath along her neck.
Her nipples had already compressed into hard peaks. His thumbs began circling them slowly, and they tautened into tighter beads. He dropped his mouth to the base of her neck, trailing moist, open-mouthed kisses along her shoulder, his eyes now trained on hers in the mirror. Caught in his gaze, she couldn’t look away.
One big hand traveled up, wrapped around her throat, and turned her face toward him. They were surrounded by mirrors, and she caught a glimpse of their bodies from a side angle, adding more flutters to her topsy-turvy tummy. Then his lips were on hers, his tongue sliding into her mouth, the kiss slow and sensual, mimicking his fingers exploring her contours as they moved from one breast to the other.
Mewling noises rose from her throat, and she couldn’t contain them. When she tried to turn her head away to catch her breath, his hand held it firmly in place while his tongue probed and swept her mouth. Lips and tongue then moved across her cheek, her jaw, her ear, her throat, sucking, licking, grazing his teeth over her skin.
One fluid movement, and he was suddenly in front of her, sinking to his knees. “Watch,” he repeated. “Keep your eyes on the mirror.”
The back of his head blocked her view until he shifted, and one side of her body came into view. She watched in fascination as his hand covered her breast. On the other side, still blocked from view by his head, he latched onto the other breast, sucking it into his mouth hard. She gasped, and her knees jellied. While he suckled and licked and nipped, his fingers rolled her other nipple, tweaking and pinching. She kept her eyes trained on what he was doing, fighting the temptation to let her head fall back.
Oh. My. God! Her body was transforming into a blazing Roman candle, her senses on overload. Her breaths came fast and shallow. Whether it was from his touch or the erotic charge she got from watching what he was doing, she couldn’t say. And she didn’t care.
Reflected in the mirror, her slim white fingers tunneled in his soft brown hair. He switched breasts, his mouth inflicting the same tortuous treatment on the other side while his fingers toyed with the one he’d just released.
Gently, he bit down on her nipple while his hands glided to the top of her skirt. The button was quickly released, the fly unzipped, and the skirt forced apart. His mouth still working over her breasts, he pushed the halter and skirt over her hips, down her legs, until they puddled at her feet. She shot out a hand, steadying herself against the dresser. His hands returned to her breasts, massaging, kneading, squeezing. She noted dully that her skin looked pale compared to his and that his big hands on her made her body look small. His mouth moved across her stomach, sending shivers dancing along her spine. He ran the tip of his tongue along the top of her panties, then trailed kisses after.
A moment later, he rose up and was behind her once more, his unmistakable erection pressing against her ass. Mouth on her neck, eyes on hers, his hands roved over her breasts, her rib cage, her stomach, her waist, her hips. They landed on the straps of her lace panties. He hooked his thumbs in the stringy bits, and just like her other clothing, he pulled them down in one long, deliberate motion. Dropping into a crouch, he dragged them down to her ankles. She still wore flats, and she toed them off, kicking them to one side.
He took his time standing upright, running his hands and tongue over the backs of her knees and thighs, covering her ass with soft bites and wet licks, lingering at the dimples he seemed so fond of, and finally up the channel of her back to the base of her neck. She leaned her head against him and let out an extended sigh.
His hands skimmed her body and dove between the tops of her thighs, where they stroked and squeezed. His thumbs, those talented thumbs, feathered over her mound and joined together to trace the length of her entrance, down, up, down, up, circling, teasing, supercharging the carnal chills racing through her body. Bowing her back, she reached behind and buried her fingers in his thick strands.
“You’re not watching,” he whispered against ear right before he nibbled her earlobe.
She blinked and focused on his eyes staring at her in the mirror. Elbows in the air, arms behind her head as her fingers played with his hair, she reminded herself of a stretching cat. His gaze wandered to his hands between her thighs, and hers followed. Strong fingers nudged her legs apart. One hand cupped her while the other feathered its way up her body, pausing to tweak her nipples, until it reached her chin.
“Open,” he demanded softly.
Lost in a sex-filled pleasure daze, she opened her mouth. He inserted his middle finger, and she sucked on it—hard—tongued it, hollowed her cheeks as he slid it in and out of her mouth. His eyes blazed as he watched her in the mirror. Her tongue flicked his index finger, and he ran it over her lips before inserting that one too.
“Killing me, Sunshine,” he groaned.
Good! Because you’ve reduced me to a quivering mass of nerves.
Out came his fingers with a wet pop, and he dropped them between
