“Go?” Why couldn’t he just come? The way she looked, it wouldn’t take more than a minute or two.
“Yes.” She swiveled on her heels and planted her hands on her hips. “What did you think? That I’d just stroll in here, we’d have sex and that’s that?”
“I didn’t think it so much as not see any other option.” He glanced down at the front of his jeans. His weren’t nearly as noteworthy as Karyn’s, if one somehow missed the painfully obvious erection poking through them. “Get my drift?”
“Another booty call, huh?” She glided across his threadbare carpeting as if were a priceless rug, her expression intense.
Shit, had he pissed her off? No matter. He would beg. Without shame. Anything she asked for would be hers for the taking.
As she reached him, he glimpsed the light in her eyes. The challenge. “I tried to make it a full year since we met,” she said before he could speak. “So we could celebrate our anniversary.”
“But you caved, huh? Which I’m very glad about, by the way.” He smiled and dropped his gaze, unable to help himself.
Correctly deciphering his quick glance at her hand, she held it up. Four silver rings gleamed on her fingers. “I’ve been divorced for three months and sixteen days, just so you know.”
He gave a brisk, businesslike nod as she set aside the drugstore bag. From where she stood she couldn’t hear the wild thumping of his heart. He hoped. “Know the hours too?”
“Hmm.” She tapped one lavender nail against her lips. “I’d say ei—” The word ended under his mouth, right before he swept his tongue between her lips and got to work showing her how much he’d missed her.
She met him kiss for kiss, her hunger every bit as palpable as his own, winding her fingers through his hair while she used her other hand to start opening buttons. Too many buttons. By the time she’d stripped him to his thin undershirt he’d cursed his tendency to dress in layers.
“What about you?” she asked between gasping breaths. She tugged his shirt out of his jeans and shoved her hands beneath, exploring his abdomen with rapid, grasping strokes.
What about him what? She didn’t really think he could process questions right now, did she? Especially when she stepped back and tugged her tiny top over her head and revealed all she wasn’t wearing underneath. Taut rosy nipples crowned her glorious breasts, twin cherries on the sundae he wasn’t eating. Yet. Soon she’d be his goddamn dinner, dessert and midnight snack all in one.
She grasped her thin leather belt, pausing. “You’re not seeing anyone, are you?” A year’s worth of doubts hung in the question.
Annoyed she’d somehow slipped out of his arms, he drew her right back and trailed openmouthed kisses down the side of her neck. She smelled of soap and crisp cotton, hanging fresh on the line. No fancy perfumes. No floral shampoos. Just pure, sexy woman.
“Not seeing. Not dating. Definitely not fucking. Any other questions?”
Without hesitation, she flipped open his button fly and yanked down the zipper, her nails scraping his rigid cock through his boxers. “Just one,” she breathed, falling to her knees and drawing him free of the worn denim. Whatever that question was soon became unimportant, at least for the time being.
She tugged his jeans and boxers down his thighs and lowered her head to take him in her mouth. He hissed at the contact, hissing again as she flicked her tongue over his slit. Soft noises left her throat when she sucked him in deep. Then deeper still.
His legs locked and his mind went beautifully, blissfully blank. He couldn’t overthink when he was with her. She took him to a whole new place, one he’d missed for three hundred and fifty-seven interminable days.
He couldn’t stop watching her. This wasn’t just an act to her, something she had to do to get where she wanted to go. She got off on it. Her intent expression and her rhythmic sucking proved it.
That and her low, desperate moans.
She didn’t swallow him or try anything crazy, merely pleasured him. Giving herself the same unselfish way she’d opened up to a virtual stranger in a coffee shop on a snowy night. Her excitement fed his own. Multiplied it. Made him shake and yes, beg. He couldn’t have held back if he tried.
He dropped his head against the wall and reached down for a handful of her hair. So soft. It poured through his fingers yet offered a sturdy rope when he needed to hold on. She moaned when he pushed deeper, testing her limits. But she only opened farther and took more.
Her entrancing eyes riveted him in the advancing twilight. Smoky, sensual. Almost as arousing as her mouth. They offered a wordless urge for him to fall and let her catch him. To believe she would.
A flash of silver caught his attention and he saw her thumb moving against the seam of denim between her legs. Pressing. Digging the fabric against her center, building the friction just like she increased the pressure on his dick, sucking so hard he didn’t jump so much as lurch over the edge.
His shout reverberated through the room, followed by the sound of her swallowing. So damn sexy. He shuddered and gripped her hair, anchoring himself to reality while his system spun out of control.
Her low murmurs continued while she gave him her own version of a sponge bath, licking and nuzzling until he no longer thought his weak legs could support him. Then she rose and wrapped her arm around his neck, bringing his mouth to hers for a long, erotically wet kiss. She slid her tongue around his, pulling it between her lips and reminding him exactly where she’d had her mouth last.
As if he could ever forget.
Though it pained him, he made himself put some distance between them as he cupped her face. “So what was that you said about not rocking a man’s world?” He asked hoarsely.
Not surprising he was hoarse. She’d just given him the best blowjob of his damn life.