“Much…” I groaned in pleasure as he found the sensitive spot under my ear. “Better.” I spread my knees, and he stepped between them.
“Bridget,” he whispered in my ear, “may I please put my hand under your skirt?”
My core clenched. “Yes.”
He captured my lips again in a kiss, then he put both hands on my knees and traced up the insides of my thighs, dragging up my skirt as he went. He paused with his fingers an inch away from the apex of my legs. “Bridget, may I touch your pussy?” he murmured against my lips.
“Yes. Stop asking. I want it all.” Something cold hit my fingers, and I looked down. I’d crushed the cup of mousse. Chocolate oozed between my fingers.
He clicked his tongue. “See what happens when you’re impatient?” He took the crumpled cup from me and set it on the counter behind him. Then he licked the chocolate from my hand, sucking each finger into his warm, wet mouth until it was clean. Each pull from his hollowed cheeks tugged an invisible string that connected straight to my core. I wrapped my legs around him and tried to pull him closer to relieve the ache.
“Ah-ah, Bridget,” he said. “I’m in control here.”
That startled a gasp out of me, and the air I’d sucked in cooled and sharpened my lust-hazed brain. I was in his kitchen, where he’d chosen what we’d eat, and even the order we’d eat it in, and now he was telling me he was in control of sex too?
No, not after the last time, when he’d sent me away as we were getting closer. “I want to be in control tonight.” I put my hand on his trousers where they strained over his erection and squeezed it, not hard enough to hurt but enough to let him know I was serious.
“Fuck, Bridget.” He closed his eyes. “Okay. You’re in charge.”
Oh, shit. I hadn’t expected that to work. I found his tip and rubbed my thumb across it. The fabric dampened. Okay, so he was into it. “Kiss me,” I demanded.
“Where?” His smirk was wicked.
“First, on the lips, then…lower.”
“I want to be clear on the requirements,” he said. “First, I kiss your lips, then I make out with your pussy?”
My cheeks heated. “Yes.”
He covered my mouth with his. He tasted like the chocolate he’d licked from my fingers. Soon, his kiss turned urgent and rough. I gave it right back to him, nipping his lip and pillaging his mouth with my tongue. His arms went around my back, and he pulled me to him. The friction of his sweater against my dress woke up my nipples. Every part of me was into this kiss.
When I broke away to breathe, he kissed down my jaw to my neck, then followed the upper swell of my breast to the valley between. “You smell fantastic,” he said with his nose buried in my cleavage.
“It’s just my regular perfume,” I said.
He nipped the inside of my breast. “You always smell fantastic. It drives me crazy at work.”
“You know what makes me nuts?”
“My charming personality?” He looked up at me and grinned, tipping his head at a mischievous angle.
“As if.” I combed my fingers through his hair. “This. It’s always so glossy and perfect. I want to mess it up.”
“I’d be pissed if you did it in the office, but tousle away here. In fact, lie back and hold on.” He gripped my hand and nodded at the stone countertop behind me.
“I thought I was in charge.” But I eased back onto my elbows.
“You are, sweetheart. I’m following instructions.” He flipped my skirt up, revealing my black thong. He gasped, pretending to be shocked. “You wore this to church?”
“Jesus hates a visible panty line almost as much as he hates sin.”
“Why does the thought of your naked ass cheeks on a pew make me so hot?” He tugged it to the side, making the strap cut into my hip, but I forgot the pain when his mouth covered my pussy.
“There were no naked ass cheeks”—my breath caught when he brushed against my clit—“on the pew.” Even as the pleasure spiraled through my core, it felt important to clarify. “My dress covered everything.”
“Let me have my fantasy, please.” He speared his tongue inside me.
I threw back my head and moaned as I tried not to jab my heels into his sides.
