“Ask away,” she whispered, kissing his collarbone, moving down to his pecs, and kissing a trail all the way past his belly button until she was on her knees.
He inhaled a sharp breath, because he wanted to be a good guy for her. “Did you have a whole lot of the champagne fountain tonight? Hypothetically? Or some of those leftover cucumber sandwiches?”
She laughed, her chest heaving against his body, her mouth pausing just at his waistband. “No. I am not drunk.”
“If this were real, I’d be incredibly turned on right now.” Though that much was clear with his pants around his ankles.
“If this were real,” she said, looking up at him. “I’d be very impressed.”
The night went a little fuzzy at that point, because she opened her mouth and drew him in. If this wasn’t real, he didn’t want to wake up.
He groaned, his hands in her hair, her mouth working his erection.
Irina knew how to use her mouth. Not that he’d questioned it, but holy shit did she know how to add a sweep of the tongue that nearly made him embarrass himself.
While he wasn’t a guy to ever turn down a blow job from a gorgeous woman, if they were doing this—and it seriously seemed like they were doing this—he wasn’t going to lose his load before she got her cookies.
“Noodle Cup,” he whispered, a lot jagged because she used that moment to do a sweep and turn with her lips that made his words rough. “Your turn first,” he managed to say.
She continued working him, making a nuh-uh sound against his flesh.
Gently, he reached down to stroke her cheek. “Stand up, Irina.”
She did stand, reached for his hand, and ran it along the side of her breast, down past her waist to her hip. Since he was there and she was offering, he grabbed a handful of ass, pulling the length of her to the front of him.
His heart beat faster, his breaths came uneven, and the erection he’d been nursing since he saw her in that dress pulsed between them.
Generally, he liked to take control when it came to all things sex. Not to say he was a professional—he’d never been paid in anything other than baked goods—but he knew what he liked and knew what needed to be done to get everyone involved to a climax or two.
At the moment, however, his mind went blank.
“How are we going to get me out of this dress?” She quirked an eyebrow, sultry and every inch the vixen.
“I have a thought.” He ran his hands down her back to the spot where he’d stopped with the buttons. He gave a little tug there to illustrate that thought.
“It’s not like I’m going to wear it again.” She seemed to dare him with a look.
What the hell, they were doing this, might as well make it memorable.
He pulled the halves apart, buttons pinging wood and mirror as they bounced off the furniture.
With only the littlest assist from him, Irina stepped from the gown, and he got his first look at the lingerie he wasn’t supposed to see.
Fuuuck, she was perfection.
Chapter Eighteen
IRINA
There weretimes when a girl appreciated the designer flourishes on a gown, and a time when she wished they’d used snaps instead. Today was the second option.
Though she’d never had a fantasy of a man ripping her dress from her body, turns out that was precisely the kind of fantasy she should’ve been having all these years.
Knox’s He-Man antics did it for her. Oh boy, did they do it.
There was a moment when the dress fell to the ground and she thought he might actually devour her. The way his eyes scraped across every inch of her skin turned her on in ways she’d never known. Made her wet and want and not even care that he was her husband, and this could complicateeverything.
Honestly, she had a hard time getting that turned on without a battery-operated assist. But who didn’t?
