She’s standing there.
Chapter Forty-Nine
Lot
Leaning.
“Lot?” Stunned, he says my name like he’s waking from a dream. A towel’s knotted at his waist, broad chest and shoulders glistening with water droplets.
“Hey, stranger.” The sight of him striking me right in the heart. “Surprise.”
That’s all it takes. He exits the bathroom in two long strides, sweeping me into his arms and burying his face in my neck. We melt together. Time and distance, the stress of the day eclipsed by the intensity of our attraction and the depth of our love.
“You’re really here,” he murmurs.
“Of course.” I smooth a hand down his damp back. “You’re not doing this alone.”
He exhales, long and heavy, then sets me down, his expression still shook. “I was just going to call you. But this… this is better.”
“Gotta keep up with your grand gestures,” I say, brushing myfingers over the crease in his brow. “After we spoke, Queenie and I caught the next flight. I didn’t know how the meeting would go, but I wanted to be with you no matter what. We don’t have to talk about it until you’re ready. I’m just here to hold you down. Love you. Make you boxed mac and cheese, whatever you need.”
“You’re everything I need.” He cages me against the bedroom wall, palms planted on either side of my head, his breath warm across my lips. The delicious scent of citrus soap clings to his skin. Familiar and devastating.
I cup his bearded jaw and bring his mouth to mine. We kiss soft and slow. Restrained. The contrast between the hard press of his body and tender coax of his lips sends desire thrumming through me in an endless rhythm.
My hands trail down the column of his throat, curling around his shoulders. His tongue dips into my mouth, his bare chest grazing my nipples through the thin cotton. His hips shift, notching his towel-covered erection between my thighs. A moan breaks free.
Dice lifts his head, eyes hot and tender, voice molten. “I want to love on you, baby. Get naked for me.”
I unfasten my pants and push them over my hips, kicking them aside. I stand before him in nothing but a black thong and cropped graphic tee—candy-red lips wrapped around a lollipop, cursive script beneath declaring:Talk Sweet, Bite Hard.
“Promise?” he asks, giving me his sexy-as-sin smirk.
I nip his lower lip just enough to sting. He licks the spot, his eyes flaring as I peel the shirt over my head, revealing a satin bra. One flick of the hook behind me and I shimmy out of it, spilling my heavy breasts into his hands.
“I’m truly a blessed man,” he says as his fingers map me with reverence. Tracing the roses inked on the swell of my breast, bending to suck the peaks of my nipples, one by one, as his hands drift over the soft rolls that cushion my ribs, and the shelf of my love handles.
“You’re stunning, Web.” His voice roughens, each word punctuated with a touch. “These hips are a throne. This belly, an altar.These thick thighs—Goddamn.” He grips them. “They’re an offering.”
“Dice.” My pussy clenches. “I need you.”
“You’ve got me, Web.” He drops to his knees and drags my thong down my legs. “So wet and pretty,” he groans as he spreads me open with my foot braced on his shoulder.
I strain toward him, toward the inevitable wreckage of his mouth. And he gives it to me. His worship is relentless. His tongue rims my opening, teasing, taunting, licking the wet proof of my desire, before spearing that masterful tongue inside. His strokes are unhurried, merciless.
My head thunks back against the wall, my core rippling. His muffled moans send vibrations shooting through me. The pad of his thumb rubs my clit in quick, gentle circles. I surrender to that erotic sub-world where pleasure is slick and midnight dark. I clutch his head, grinding into the bliss, cries wrenching from my throat as an orgasm bursts between my legs, sending my pussy into tight, hard spasms.
It shatters the last vestiges of his control. He’s on his feet before I can catch my breath, his mouth crushing mine, sharing my taste. He yanks his towel open, his cock springing free between us.
Our eyes lock, mine riveted to his masculine beauty and the fierce desire on his face. He smacks both hands on my ass, canting my hips where he wants them, and drives into me where we stand. I bite back a scream, pleasure colliding with pain in that perfect, brutal stretch.
I grip his ass too, urging him deeper, harder, feeling the flex of his muscles with every plunge that slams me into the wall.
“You’re mine,” I pant, nails clawing his skin.
“Hell yes,” he rasps, his teeth scraping my ear. “And you’re mine. Milking my cock like your pussy knows who the fuck it belongs to.”
“You—” My moan splinters into pieces.
