“Mmm.” She pulls my tie free, the silk whispering against my collar. “But what if I want to see you lose that perfect control first?”
My pulse jumps. “What?”
She pushes my jacket off my shoulders, her nails dragging lightly across my collar. “You’re used to being in charge, aren’t you? Used to women melting the moment you touch them.”
She’s right, but I deflect. “What are you getting at?”
Her hands move to my shirt buttons, working them open with maddening patience. “I want to see what happens when you can’t orchestrate every move. When you have to just... feel.”
The word makes me hard and unsteady at the same time. Feel. When do I ever just feel anything? But her fingers are spreading my shirt open now, her palms flat against my chest, and thinking becomes impossible.
She unbuckles my belt. The belt slides through with a quiet rasp, the buckle striking the floor with a metallic clink. Before I can even think to remove her dress, she’s on her knees, pulling my cock free.
“Good to see you weren’t lying about your size.”
I laugh, but it turns into a groan when she takes me into her warm, wet mouth and nearly to the back of her throat. “Fuck,” I rasp.
If she keeps doing that, I am going to be a liar about the second part and come before her first orgasm. Yet I can’t pull away. Not when she’s already found that perfect rhythm and her moans tell me she likes sucking my dick as much as I like her doing it.
Forget controlling how this night goes. She owns what’s happening between us.
Thick pressure begins to tighten in my balls, and I grab a fistful of her hair. The moan that escapes her has me nearly blowing my load. I pull her off my cock. “Don’t make me a liar, Ivy.”
She stands and I turn her around, unzipping her dress. I push it from her shoulders. The material pools around her black heels, which she steps out of. Moonlight paints her skin silver, and for a second I forget how to breathe.
I run my fingers along the back of her neck and down her spine, stopping at her bra to unhook it. She shrugs it off, and I continue along her satin skin, moving around to her front. She arches, but I tease us both, tracing along the bottoms, instead of cupping her breasts like we both want.
Goosebumps rise along her skin as I move down her sides, and I relish her short, needy gasp that follows. The cream lace of her panties slides beneath my fingers, and I cup her irresistible ass. She presses into my palms, a silent plea for more.
My muscles tense with anticipation as I shrug out of my button-up, followed by my undershirt. Next come my slacks and boxer briefs. Kneeling, need drives me to take a playful bite of her ass. Her moan shoots straight to my cock.
Turning her to face me, I pull her panties slowly down her legs. I nuzzle against her clit, taking in her heady female scent.
My hand slides up her legs to the apex of her center. Her wetness makes me groan. “You’re already so wet for me,” I mumble, drunk on her. She hums in agreement. “Get the condoms and then sit on the edge of the bed.”
She grabs a small box from her luggage and I scoff. “Three condoms? You must not have had that fun of a time planned for Kentucky.”
“You’re an asshole, aren’t you?” she laughs.
“I am.”
“It’ll be a very short visit.” She bites her bottom lip, then releases it. “Short, but complicated.”
I’m surprised by my curiosity. But this is one night, so I don’t ask questions and take the box from her, pointing to the bed. “Sit.”
And hell, she does, spreading her legs, her pretty, pink heat laid bare for me. This woman is made for me. That thought lands like a bomb, but I toss it from my thoughts before it can explode.
Hunger drives me forward, planting my mouth on her, feasting on her like the animal she turns me into. This isn’t my usual pace, getting off on her craving for me—no, this is the opposite. I’m addicted to her. Not the act of sex, buther.
I want to eat her. Fuck her. Have her orgasm dripping down my throat, and then my cock.
Sliding two fingers inside her, I curl them. She arcs up off the bed, calling out my middle name. I’m tempted to tell her my actual name, just to hear her say it in that desperate plea.
Instead, I suck her clit harder, drunk on her sweet taste, and I urge her to ride my face to her first orgasm. She fists my hair and rocks her hips, her breath coming in short, frantic gasps. “Almost. Oh, God!” Her legs begin to shake, and then she’s coming apart on my tongue, shouting out her pleasure so loud she probably woke her neighbors.
Before her aftershocks have completely worn off, I’ve ripped open a condom packet, rolled it on, and have myself at her entrance.
She curves her hand around my neck and pulls me flush against her. Then, somehow, manages to roll me onto my back. Hell, the view is mouthwatering.
