Then at him.
And before my jumbled, sex-starved, overaroused brain can process what’s happening, he sits up, with me still straddling him, grabs my hands, and licks my palms.
First one, then the other.
For the record, I didn’t know my palms were erogenous zones.
Also, for the record, if he can make me nearly come by licking my palms, what could the man do if he licked my pussy?
“I’m supposed to be licking chocolate off of you,” I whisper as I adjust myself so that my poor clit can rub shamelessly against his erection.
“It’s Saturday. We have all day.”
We don’t have all day.
I have seventy-four million things I need to do.
But then he flexes his hips beneath me, and nothing else matters.
Today, there’s no family.
There’s no Tickled Pink.
No favors, no chocolate empire to plan, no secrets to fret about.
It’s just me and this man who’s sucking each of my chocolate-covered fingers into his mouth, one at a time, while he watches me pant and squirm at the sheer pleasure of having someone take this much time, care, and attention with me.
“Want—to do—for you,” I gasp as he works his tongue between my pinkie and ring fingers.
“Shh,” he whispers, and then he’s holding another truffle to my mouth, this one carrying scents of curry and toasted pumpkin seeds.
I close my mouth around it, and once again, my eyeballs roll into the back of my head.
I love chocolate.
I do.
Dylan traces the tendons in my neck. “Do you have any idea—honestly—how fucking gorgeous you are?”
“It’s all fake.”
“Not this,” he replies, flexing his hips to roll his erection against my clit.
I groan, and chocolate dribbles out of my mouth. “Oh God, I’m so—”
“If you say sorry, Iwillspank this lovely ass.”
I lock eyes with him. “Will you spank me even if I don’t say sorry?”
His cock surges beneath me. “Fuck, Tavi.”
And then he’s gripping my hair, tilting my head back while he devours my mouth again. I squirm in his lap, reaching for the button on his jeans, and then I’m on my back, Dylan between my legs, undoing the button on my bright-purple jeans and tugging them down my hips while I try to help with my chocolate-coated hands.
His shoes go flying.
So do mine.
Then his pants, and my mouth goes dry.
