My body says no…and so does my heart. With a single kiss, the angry magician had reignited my lust. I’ve ached for his touch, his mouth. I know, like I had known with Steve, that Samuel Foster is the man I’ve been waiting for. I need to arrange a sitter for Austin because there is no way I’m passing up on that date.
I open the messaging app on my phone. The first text is to Anna.
What’s the name and number of Jamie’s babysitter?
Thankfully I don’t have to wait long for her reply.
Sally. I’ll send you her number now.
It takes five minutes to arrange for Sally to watch Austin on the weekend. As soon as the details are finalized, I text Sam.
Hi Sam, I’ve made arrangements with a sitter for tomorrow. I’d love to go out with you.
I don’t have to wait long for his reply either.
That’s wonderful! Send me your address. I’ll pick you up at noon. Dress casual.
Sounds great! See you then!
I shut off my phone’s screen, grinning like the Cheshire cat.
Chapter 9
Burnin Desire
Samuel Foster
“God, you’re beautiful,” I whisper, running my fingers over the curve of her cheek. Arielle sighs and turns her face into my palm, pressing her lips there. Her skin is like satin, warm and smooth, and I stroke my hand down, tracing the line of her throat. I dip my fingertips into the tiny indentation at the base of her neck and feel the pulse beating frantically there.
Her eyes are on mine now, eyes the color of cinnamon, framed by lashes that look long enough to create a breeze. I keep our gaze locked as my fingers slip lower, down to the crevice between her heaving breasts. There’s a button there, and I flick it loose, then the next, and the next. Her shirt has fallen open to her waist, and I can feel a slight shiver of gooseflesh rising beneath my exploring fingers.
“Sam…” Her voice is a low murmur, but she’s not stopping me. Even when my fingers slide along the waistband of her snug jeans, then stop at the button. I tug it free, and the zipper slides down easily when my hand slips beneath the denim. There’s lace over her mound. Satin and lace that are warm from her flesh. I slide the material aside and her eyes widen as I graze a soft touch over the silky curls of her pussy.
With my free hand, I ease her shirt off her shoulders, and it drops down her arms, snagging at her wrists until she shakes the sleeves free over her hands. She doesn’t move, apart from that small gesture; the fabric of her shirt flutters down to pool around her feet on the floor, but I’m not paying too much attention to it.
I’ve broken our eye contact and let my eyes follow the path my fingers just took. I see her swallow, then I turn my attention to where my hand has cupped a lace-clad breast. My thumb brushes over the rough texture of it, and I can feel her nipple hardening to meet my touch. I pinch it lightly, and she makes a small sound that vibrates through her chest.
My fingers haven’t stopped their exploration down below. While I tease that tight nipple, I’ve slid my hand into her panties and cupped her pussy. It’s hot enough to burn, and when I press lightly, her lips part easily to let my fingers dip into the moistness beyond.
“Sam…” she says again, “Sam, I…” The words are followed by a guttural groan as I slip a finger over her clit a few times. She’s scorching hot now, and I lower myself to my knees at her feet, pulling at the denim that still hugs her hips. I pull her jeans down her thighs, stopping when I’m face to face with the creamy satin of her panties.
I lean forward and press my face into the juncture of her thighs, feeling her sway against me, a hand grasping at my shoulder. I’m surrounded by the scent of her, warm and sweet and musky, and I inhale deeply, taking her fragrance in. I want to consume her, take her into me, as much as I want to be inside her myself.
When I pull down that lace, I’m faced with a plush vee of auburn curls that are crisp beneath my lips. I extend the tip of my tongue to the cleft there, seeking out the tight little bud hidden in those curls. Her nails sink into my shoulders, and she thrusts her hips forward, pressing my face into her sex.
“Oh, Sam…Oh, God… mmmm….” She breathes, her voice a throaty moan that deepens and ripples through her, until it’s little more than a purr. I brush my cheek against her silky mound, and she purrs louder…louder still… then gives a chirping little meow—
What?
I frown, reaching to pull her closer, but she’s stepping away, then bumping against my cheek again. That meow is more insistent.
“What the fuck?” I groan.
She’s… Is she gone? I open my eyes and look into the green gaze of Munchkin, who’s resting tiny lead feet in the center of my chest and rubbing his head against my face. He gives another demanding little meow. “Dammit, Munch,” I grumble.
This was not the pussy I’d expected to be facing when I opened my eyes.
He hops off my chest and I push myself up on my elbows, and rub a hand over bleary eyes. And then I remember my conversation with Arielle last night.
