“You liked it last night when I kissed you there?” The question obviously threw him for he stared at her open mouthed, but not a word passed his suddenly tight lips. She dragged her hands to the buttons on his shirt and slipped her fingers between the flaps. The hair on his chest tickled her fingertips. “You liked my lips on your…cock?”
His breath drew in harshly. He released it on a rough laugh. “Yeah.”
“Then why did you pull me away?”
She popped the top two buttons of his shirt and her smile broadened as he seemed to freeze into a statue. Against her stomach, his cock pressed demandingly. Above her head, his breath sawed in and out of his lungs in desperate anticipation. His hands fell from her face. They landed by his sides, briefly touched her hips, and fell back to his sides again. He clearly didn’t know what to make of her boldness. She kissed his chest through the vee of his shirt. She decided she liked him off balance.
With the tip of her tongue, she tasted his flesh. He tasted as fresh as he smelled. He tasted of pure, unadulterated, clean masculinity. His big hand came up and cupped the back of her head, pressing her against him.
“You’re killin’ me darlin’.”
“I’m just kissing you back.”
“You’re playing with fire.”
She cut him a glance through her lashes. “Not yet, but I intend to.”
His hand never left her head as she kissed her way down his torso on her slow drop to the floor. Until her knees hit the wood planks, she wasn’t really sure she was going to go through with it, but when she saw the extent of his desire for her, remembered the night before, the power that had been hers those few brief moments she’d had him in her mouth, she knew what she wanted. His fingers clenched in her hair, stopping her from moving forward.
“You don’t need to do this.”
It was a long trip up to his face. A long pleasurable trip. Her husband was one finely put together man. She moistened her lips with her tongue. “Don’t you like it when a woman kisses you there?”
His eyes closed and his head tipped back like he was struggling for control.
“I’ve never asked a woman to do that.”
She paused, returning her gaze to the front of his pants. “I was the first?”
She might have imagined it, but his cock seemed to be reaching for her through the heavy denim.
His “yes” was a harsh hiss of sound.
She liked knowing that. With one finger she reached forward and traced the contours of his shaft. His hips bucked helplessly beneath her touch. A woman could get addicted to having a man react to her like this, she decided.
“I liked it,” she confessed in a barely discernible whisper.
“What?”
A quick glance determined she had his full attention. She didn’t know if he truly hadn’t heard or was shocked at what she’d said. She did know, however, that she wanted to taste his cock again. This time at her pace, without his interference.
“I liked it,” she repeated clearly.
She was lifted from the floor by two large hands on her upper arms. She looked up to find his dark eyes glittering with emotion, the dark almost swallowing the silver.
“What?” she asked on a twinge of unease.
“I’m thinking I might like it, too.”
In the time it took her to blink, he had her up and sitting on the table top. It was going to be tough to accomplish what she wanted from here. It took all her composure to point that out without stammering or crumpling into a ball of embarrassment. He didn’t appear to notice. He merely flashed a grin and chuckled when she groaned. For once, he didn’t argue her avoiding his gaze. It should have warned her, but she was too caught up in mortification to pay attention until it was too late.
She nearly jumped out of her skin when his cool hands captured her ankles. As she scooted back, she asked, “What are you doing?”
With a tug, he undid her efforts and had her posterior teetering on the edge of the table.
“Thought I’d have a bit more breakfast,” he answered, stepping between her calves, completely unconcerned with her skirt riding up past her knees.
She tried to push the material down, but she wasn’t too effective as she had to use one hand to balance on the table top. “This isn’t seemly,” she pointed out desperately as he stepped between her splayed thighs. Her skirt continued its upward climb.
His “I wasn’t going for seemly,” was completely unconcerned with the fact that her skirt was now above her thighs and sunlight was highlighting every wrinkle in her pantaloons.
He paused. “Now there’s a problem.”
What on earth could he be seeing as a problem. Down there?