by Mari Carr
“And you’ve got the bra and panties. Not that I mind the view.”
For a moment, she stiffened. Fearfully, she raised her eyes to his. Would she see that same calculating hunger she was used to? That greedy look that reduced her to a thing, a possession, a trinket? But no. His expression was the opposite of that. Happy appreciation shone from his eyes. His smile had a touch of the devil in it, and a promise of delicious fun.
“What’s wrong?” he asked.
“Nothing. A ghost. We haven’t said three yet.”
“If we don’t do it soon, I’m going to forget how to count.”
Giggling, she put her hands behind her back, on the fastening of her bra. He grabbed the bottom of his T-shirt, poised for take-off.
“Three!”
Clothes flew into the air, a flurry of underwear. Surrounded by discarded clothing, they stared at each other. Chloe felt her rib cage rise and fall with quick breaths. Without looking down, she knew her nipples were already at attention. As was his erection. It rose from a thick nest of black curls and pointed straight toward her, as if it had eyes only for her.
Suddenly, desperately, she wanted to know what he saw when he looked at her. “Do you think…do I seem like…a…” she whispered, “doll?”
“Oh, no. You’re no doll.”
What did he mean? Did he think she was ugly? Maybe he was used to a different type. She crossed her hands over her breasts.
“No! Don’t hide.” With one quick stride, he was in front of her, holding her face in his hands. “You’re beautiful. Wonderful. But you’re no doll. You’re too alive. Too sensitive. Look, I can feel the pulse beating in your throat. I can feel your skin warming under my hands. You’re a living, passionate being. How could anyone think you were a doll?” He ran his thumbs over her cheeks with a touch that seemed to treasure the very shape of her face. When he bent his mouth to hers, the depth of his kiss brought tears to her eyes. His tongue searched her mouth, as if he wanted to track down whatever sadness remained in her and soothe it away.
She let herself sink into the comfort of that kiss for a long moment. But then she moved restlessly against him. Enough gentleness. She needed heat. Fire. Stepping back, she put her hands on his and drew them to her chest. As those warm palms encircled her breasts, she let out a long moan. Already stiff, her nipples hardened even more as he filled his hands with her flesh.
“That feels nice,” she heard herself say. In the past, she’d never said anything during sex. She’d become that mute doll Andrew had demanded. Never once had she asked for anything. “Can you lick my nipples, please?”
“No need to be polite, sweetie. I’ll do anything you ask.”
“Lick them, then. A lot. Don’t stop until I ask you to.”
“I wouldn’t think of it.” He tilted her face up one more time, and smiled into her eyes. Then he bent his head to the rosy nipples begging for attention. As soon as his mouth enclosed her right breast, her head fell back with a groan. Her nipples were used to being tweaked, fondled, squeezed, displayed in provocative lingerie, teased and tormented—but this was what she’d always longed for and never gotten. Long strokes of a loving tongue. Moist nibbling that sent electric jolts to her lower belly. A heated mouth tugging on those sensitive points, pulling moans from her.
And Dustin’s mouth didn’t stop. Not when her nipples had swelled to the size of rose hips. Not when she shuddered from the pleasure. Not when his erection jerked against her thigh. She wasn’t at the mercy of his mouth. No, that mouth was at her service. She could ask it to do whatever she wanted.
“Dustin,” she said in a whisper. “Go lower.”
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