Ordinarily, telling Wick that something was non-negotiable was like waving a red flag in front of a bull. He loved a challenge, and if there was anything that he was good at, it was bargaining. Part of that skill involved being able to read others: to know when to advance and when to retreat. Seeing the unmistakable anxiety in his lover’s eyes, he knew now was not the time to push.
Instead, he untied his mask and domino, tossed them aside. Her gaze roved over his face, her jaw slackening. Before he could decide if that was a compliment, she lifted her chin.
“I’m still not taking mine off,” she informed him.
Why did he find her streak of obstinacy so damned enticing?
“As you wish, angel. What about the rest?” He hooked a finger into the top of her sleeve, giving it a teasing tug downward.
She gnawed on her lip. “Everything else…you may remove.”
If only all negotiations were this easy. He had a foot in the door; he would work to gain more of her trust. For now, he wasn’t complaining.
He kissed her thoroughly while making short work of the buttons at the back of her gown. His erection tested the limits of his tailoring when he discovered that she’d come dressed to fuck: her only undergarments were short stays that ended beneath her bust, a chemise, and stockings. Not only did that mean fewer impediments on the path to pleasure, it also meant that her glorious shape owed little to padding or lacing.
He stripped her of everything save her white silk stockings. A man who’d seen his fair share of naked women, he felt his breath hitch at her splendor. Her arms crossed in reflexive modesty.
“No, don’t cover yourself. Let me look,” he ordered huskily.
He imagined her cheeks were flushed beneath her mask. Slowly, she let her arms fall. The small act of obedience burgeoned his already stiff cock; when it came to bed sport, there was nothing he enjoyed more than a woman’s lovely surrender…especially when the woman was strong and independent, as this one clearly was.
Trust was a gift. One that he avoided in relationships but welcomed in bed. When it came to tupping, he knew exactly how to use sweet feminine submission for his partner’s pleasure and his own.
Her hands balled as she let him look his fill. And look he did, feasting his gaze on charms so abundant that his eyeballs twitched in their sockets, trying to take in all that she had to offer. Her surging breasts, ripe and full, tipped with the palest pink nipples. The sensual dip of her waist, absurdly tiny compared to her tits and the lush flare of her hips. Then there were her long, shapely legs and between them…hell.
He registered three things at once.
First, she had the prettiest little cunny he’d ever seen. Second, she was as hot-blooded as he’d hoped, her shy patch of curls visibly damp with dew. Third, she was not a true redhead.
“Christ, you’re perfection,” he said thickly.
She made a sound, and he swooped down to swallow it as he pressed her back onto the desk’s hard surface. He ravished her mouth thoroughly before continuing his tour of her delights. He trailed his tongue along her downy neck, the graceful slant of her collarbone, the deep crevice between her tits. She gasped when he cupped the mounds, enjoying their firm heft.
“Such pretty nipples.” He teased one taut peak with his breath, enjoying her shiver of response. “Do you like to have them licked?”
Her long lashes lifted, her eyes wide. “Y-yes?”
“You don’t sound certain.” He blew softly upon one nipple, then the other, and her shiver became a full body tremor. “Why is that?”
“Because I…um, I suppose it depends.” She wetted her lips. “My enjoyment would be based upon how well the activity is carried out, would it not?”
Oh ho.Another challenge?
“Angel,” he said, amused, “you do know how to throw down the gauntlet, don’t you?”
Before she could reply, he set his mouth upon her.
* * *
Heavens. What he was doing was…indescribable.
A moan broke from Bea’s lips as her lover licked her nipples, going back and forth between her breasts. Prior to this, she’d thought that the sole function of that part of her anatomy was to suckle babes; now she realized there were other benefits. As he swirled his tongue, humid pleasure bloomed at her core.
“Oh,” she gasped.
“Was that a goodoh?” He lifted his head. The wave of hair that had fallen over his brow enhanced his boyish yet sensual appeal. “Or do I need to do better?”
Earlier, she hadn’t meant to challenge his expertise; she’d only been trying to cover up her lack of experience. But if this was the result of her inadvertent words, then she had no regrets.
