His deep hum sends goose bumps up my neck. “More flowers?”
“I love them,” I whisper.
“Me too.” When his fingers reach my shoulder, he replaces them with his lips, brushing kisses over the dark lines as his hands finally cup my breasts.
I whimper, tipping my head back to his chest. He caresses me, molds me, teases my nipples. That achy feeling pounds hot and heavy in my core and spreads out through the rest of my body. Ilook desperate, cheeks flushed and chest heaving. That infuriating, cocky grin pulls at his mouth, but I don’t hate it this time. It promises me things Ineed.
Lips graze my throat, and he lowers his hands to my jeans. “Can I take these off, sweetheart?”
“Mm-hmm,” I reply, and he unbuttons them with a flick of his wrist. The zipper rasps through the quiet room, revealing a bit of green lace in the mirror.
He tucks his fingers into the waistband and drags them downmy hips, kneeling behind me to help me step out of the denim. When only my thong remains, a low, gritty sound leaves his throat.
The carpet is soft under my bare feet as he turns me to face him, his hands curved around my hips. Dark lashes lift, and he stares up the line of my body. As I slide my fingers into his hair, my memory flashes back to the storage closet yesterday. Rough hands and dark eyes and whispered praise.
I may have been the one on my knees, but he worshippedme.
His palms glide slowly over my hips, down my thighs, up to my ass, like he’s memorizing every inch of me through his reverent touch. He leans forward, grazing his lips over the sunflowers tattooed at my right hip. “I get the wholebitable forearmsthing now. Iwant to bite this tattoo so bad I might die.”
A breathy laugh tumbles out of me. “Go ahead.”
“Really?” His eyes flare, hopeful and bright. Palms on my ass to hold me steady, he pulls me to his mouth and grazes his teeth over the flowers. It’s not even sharp enough to sting, but then he soothes it with his tongue and lips before moving to another spot, leaving a trail of little nips. A deep, possessive groan rumbles against my skin.
When his mouth makes it to the lacy band at my hip, I nearly jump out of my skin. His eyes crash with mine as his teeth clamp onto the fabric and drag them down. My heart is a drum in my ears, pounding with every millimeter he moves them. At my knees, his hands take over until he helps me out of them.
Shadows play over his grin. “Mine now,” he whispers, shoving them into his back pocket.
“Thief,” I grumble, but there’s no heat behind it.
He sits back on his heels, fists clenched tightly on his thighs.
“You all right down there?” I ask, grinning.
“Fuck’s sake, Fable. You make me nervous.”
A pleased hum. “Well, you look damn good on your knees.” I thread my fingers through his hair. “Such a good boy.”
His eyes get impossibly darker. One hand lands low on my stomach and he pushes me back until my hips bump the dresser. Then he grips my thigh and lifts, propping my knee on his shoulder. “You’re going to need something to hold on to, sweetheart.”
A wave of sharp desire crashes through me. Ifollow his directions, gripping the edge of the surface behind me.
He takes in the sight of me above him. “You should see yourself right now. A fucking goddess.” His voice is a strained whisper, barely in control.
And I believe him. Ireally do. It’s etched into his expression. He looks at me like I’m someone special. Someone to be treasured.
His attention lowers as he slips his free hand between my thighs. Just one, slow touch through my arousal and my hips shift uncontrollably.
A downright devilish grin takes over his face. “You sure do like me on my knees for you.”
I can’t even argue. The evidence is currently soaking his fingers.
Gaze fused with mine, he draws closer and slides his tongue through me. Iwhimper, my nails digging into his hair like an anchor to keep me from drifting away. His eyes close, a low groan bleeding out of him as he plays with my clit, licking and swirling and teasing like he’s been desperate to do just this for years.
It’s too much and not enough at the same time. I’m pretty sure I’m not breathing again. My hips push toward him, begging for more. And he gives it, swearing against my pussy and sucking at my clit. A long, low moan tears out of me, bouncing off the walls of our room.
He pulls away, breaths stuttered, lips glossy. “Can I do thisevery day?” he asks, a whimper chasing his words. “Please. I’ll be so good.”
“Mm-hmm,” I mutter mindlessly, gripping his hair to push him back where I want him.Needhim. Imight cry if I don’t get to experience the orgasm waiting just out of reach. “Yes.Please. Right there,” I whisper, his tongue swirling over my clit again.
