Chapter 8 #2
He sat next to her and ate a crab cake in one bite, enjoying the tart burst of lemon aioli on his tongue. Not nearly as good as she’d tasted, but then no flavor he’d experienced had ever measured up to hers.
“So, you haven’t changed your mind about tonight?” She reached for a crisp arancini and then bit into it.
“There isn’t a chance in hell I’m changing my mind.” He cuffed her wrist and fed himself the remaining arancini before sucking a dollop of sauce from her finger. The slow pull of that finger leaving his mouth stiffened every part of him.
Yeah, champagne would have to wait.
He leaned in, holding himself in check while gauging her reaction. Her chest lifted and fell as she breathed deeply. Her eyes darkened and nearly swallowed him whole in her expanding pupils.
He was intently aware that she could change her mind at any moment. And while she had every right to do so, he was going to do everything in his power to please her until she begged for more. Despite that mental promise, he would let her know that the choice, as always, was hers.
“If you—” he started, but she didn’t let him finish.
Her lips hit his, hard at first, then softening into an open-mouthed kiss. He pushed her to her back and she went, lifting one leg to hook around his hip. His hand cupped her ass before holding her thigh in place, his rigid cock leading his hips to nestle between hers.
Yes.
Fuck yes.
He’d been holding back since the moment he’d first seen her standing behind that podium, looking elegant and delicious.
He hadn’t known how to navigate her grief, the surprise meeting, or his own regret that night.
And while they hadn’t fully rehashed what had gone down between them, they had touched on the big stuff.
Not that having sex with her required justification, but if it did, that was resolution enough for him.
He vowed to show her a night she’d never forget, and in turn, he would taste each and every part of her. He wouldn’t stop until she was satisfied.
Or until he passed out from pleasure. Whichever came first.
“You’re coming first,” he decided aloud as he fumbled with the small buttons at the back of her blouse. After two frustrating and failed attempts, he grumbled, “I hate this shirt.”
With a soft laugh, she reached up to undo those delicate fabric buttons at the neck of her blouse. His lips moved to her exposed neck and then he gave the unforgiving material a swift tug to access her collarbone. He trailed his tongue along her satin skin, savoring her.
“I hate this shirt too.” She squirmed within the confines of the material as she tried to take it off. He helped her sit up and finally lifted the shirt over her head before throwing it onto the piano.
She pulled the long, dark strands of hair away from her face, her chest heaving.
He gathered her slim waist in his hands and then swept upwards to cup her breasts, encased in a lace nude bra.
When he revealed a rosy nipple, he wasted no time caressing the bud with his tongue before suckling it deep.
She moaned like he remembered her doing years ago. Her head fell back. Her hair tickled his arm. Her fingers clawed at his scalp as he finished off one nipple and then moved to the other.
He bit down lightly, his cock pulsing painfully when she cried out in pleasure. He knew what she liked—he always had.
“Take it off,” he told her.
Her eyes were glazed with lust when she reached behind her and shakily removed the bra. He unbuttoned her slacks, giving them a rough tug and revealing matching lace panties. He spared her a heated glare, and one side of her mouth lifted proudly.
“Minx,” he growled before taking her lips under his control again.
She fed her tongue into his mouth while he braced his weight on one arm. His other hand dived into her panties, eagerly searching for the treasure he’d been coveting all evening long.
Jackpot.
She was creamy and ready, and when he touched her there her hips lifted to meet him. A soft coo sounded from her throat.
That’s what I like to hear.
Impatient, he abandoned her mouth for her nipples, now exposed to the chill of the room and peaking in the most inviting way. He pulled one into his mouth as he stroked her below with the pads of his fingers. He found her clit and concentrated on his work.
The cooing in her throat turned into breathy pants of pleasure.
With every soft, out-of-control “ooh” sound she made, he focused more intensely on her building pleasure.
“That’s it,” he encouraged, leaving the sanctuary of her swollen breasts to give her what she needed. “You come for me. And you come hard. I have you.”
More moans of pleasure came from her parted mouth. She opened her eyes to meet his gaze, her pupils black with need. He made out the word “please” but she didn’t have to beg.
“How do you want it?” He slowed his fingers, purposefully flicking the sensitive bud.
She shuddered beneath him. He grinned, wolfish.
He had always loved how responsive she was to his touch, and how present he was when she was responding.
It was heady, the power he had over her and she had over him.
An even exchange, wordless. Soul to soul.
“Now.” She sucked air through her teeth, her fingers on his shoulders clawing at his shirt. “I want it now.”
“That’s no fun,” he teased. “Don’t you want to enjoy yourself?”
“Please.” Her eyebrows tilted, her expression bordering desperate.
“How do you want it?” he repeated. “My fingers or my tongue?”
A surge of wet soaked his fingers as her eyes sank shut.
He had his answer. “One of each? Excellent choice.”
His hands wrapped around the waist of her pants. He pulled them from her legs while she kicked off her shoes. She toed his shirt. “Off.”
“Yes, ma’am.” He made fast work of the buttons, turning the sleeves inside out as he freed himself from the button-down.
Bare chested, he positioned himself between her legs and yanked the gusset of her panties to one side. When his tongue hit her soft center, she drove her hips upward sharply, as if she was trying to get more of what he was offering.
No problem, honey.
He renewed his efforts as she came unglued. Her hands made their way to his head again. He thought she might pull out a handful of his hair the way she was grasping at it, but then he decided he didn’t care.
Her musky smell filled his nostrils, her taste consumed his mouth, and at once he felt the surge against his tongue as she cried out his name.