Lifting her head again, she opened her eyes to mock glare at him. “You think you’re so clever, Connor Blackburn. But I’m a woman on a mission.”
With some reluctance, he moved his hands to her hips. “All right, jellybean. You win.”
She reached for the first button on his shirt, a smile playing at her lips. “I have a confession.”
“What’s that?”
“Button down shirts with the sleeves rolled up get me all hot and bothered.”
“Is that so?”
“Mmhmm.” Nimble fingers worked the buttons of his shirt free one by one. “I have a thing for a man with muscular arms. And those rolled up sleeves.” She shivered dramatically. “They get me every damn time.” With the last button free, she lifted serious eyes to his. “You get me every time, Connor. I look for you when I’m in the dining room, in the halls. My breath catches in my throat and I can feel my whole body blush when you’re around. You’re a big, beautiful man and I’ve been dying to get my hands on you for months.”
He must have been a fucking saint in a previous life to deserve her. To deserve this gorgeous woman practically worshipping him, when he knew damn well she could do a hell of a lot better than him.
Before he could formulate a response, she shifted and tugged at his belt. “I also have a thing for belts. Well,” she flashed him a grin. “Leather in general. But the idea of you whipping my ass with something you carry with you, knowing if I act up you can just bend me over and take that belt to me whenever it’s needed pushes all my buttons.”
“Good to know.” His voice was gravelly with need, earning him another playful smile.
Once she’d worked the jeans and his boxers over his hips and down his legs, she straddled him again and lowered herself onto him, enveloping him in her wet heat. “God, I’ve missed this.”
“Sex?”
“Mmm.” Eyes closed, she rolled her hips experimentally. “Feeling wanted. Needed.”
He could strangle the asshole who’d made her feel less than the amazing, perfect specimen she was. But he settled for moving his thumb to her clit and drinking in her little whimper of protest even as she continued to ride him.
“Stop. I can’t go again.”
“Daddy wants you to try, baby.”
With a gasp, she tightened around him as her eyes flew open. “Say it again.”
“Daddy wants you to come again. You want to make Daddy happy, don’t you?”
“Oh God.” Her movements on top of him became more frantic and less practiced as she worked herself toward another orgasm. “I don’t know… I can’t… Oh my God.”
This time when she shattered, he had the pleasure of watching her. Head thrown back, breasts bouncing with every roll of her hips, the muscles in her throat working as she moaned out her release.
“Don’t stop,” he ordered sharply when her movements stilled.
“Yes, sir.” Her voice was light and dreamy, just like her smile when she looked down at him.
It was the smile that did him in. Fingers digging into her hips, he thrust up into her, matching her stroke for stroke as she rode him, until he felt that familiar tightening in his balls and a moment later he emptied himself into her with a final desperate thrust.
She fell on the bed beside him, both of them gasping for air.
“That was incredible.” With a happy little hum, she snuggled into his side. “You were incredible.”
“Ditto, jellybean.”
Rolling on top of him, she propped her chin on his chest and grinned. “Did you say there’s chocolate mousse for dessert?”
“I did.”
“Can we have some? I’m starving.”
“Really?”