My lips instantly soften. She slips her tongue inside, the motion aggressive and fearless. I pull her in, tasting the champagne and honeyed sweetness. Our mouths fuse, tongues tangling as her hands tighten around my face. She strokes my tongue like she possesses me. I’ve never been kissed like this—and it’s hot as hell.
Dangerous.Very,very dangerous, an instinct warns, but I don’t care. I know this is only sex—she just broke up and needs something to get over the shock of betrayal. But I’m not going to fight it when she’s offering something I’ve been dreaming about for so long.
I pull her down on top of me. She’s warm, and her weight is just right—soft as spun sugar and solid enough to trap a very willing prey.
Finally, she pulls away and drags in desperate air, her hands resting on my shoulders. The shift in position presses the soft flesh between her legs against my steely cock. Her eyes are so dilated, they appear black in the dim light.
My pulse thrums in my head, but I hold still, waiting to see if she has second thoughts. She swipes her tongue over her moist, swollen lips as though to savor the aftertaste of the kiss. When her eyes come up they lock on to mine, and there isn’t a sliver of doubt in their depths.
I plunge a hand into her hair, messing it up, then wrap my other arm around her and roll us over. She gasps, her fingers digging into my shoulders. I seal my mouth over hers, plundering her the way she plundered me.
She glides her fingers through my hair as she sucks my tongue and rubs her legs along mine. Her hands slide lower; she tugs at my tie, undoing the knot and tossing the thin, silky strip somewhere on the floor. Her impatience stokes my lust. I feel unleashed, finding and lowering the zipper on the side of her dress. Her breathing shallows in anticipation. I pull away the fabric covering her torso and unhook the bra, eager to see that pretty nipple again. I put my hand around the soft mound to push it up, and my mouth closes around the rosy tip.
Chapter Sixteen
Max
Oh my God. My back arches, pushing my breast to Rhys like an offering. A low moan wells in my chest. His mouth closes around me, and my senses spin. I cling to him, my fingers digging into his taut shoulders.
Heat from my breast pulses all the way to my belly and spreads. The sensation is acute and unfamiliar. It’d be scary if I didn’t trust him. I grip him hard, urging him to keep going—and at the same time, wanting him to do more.
This is a terrible idea, a tiny voice in the back of my head whispers—and every cell in my body bristles in defiance. How can something that feels this good be bad?
I’ve never been turned on like this, never felt this high or wet from just the beginning of foreplay. So I’m just going to enjoy the magic dick that gets women without any effort. Fuck “consequences”—time to grab a chance to feel amazing.
I tug at the hem of Rhys’s shirt, pulling it out of his pants and slipping my hands under the fabric. My eyes have feasted on the stunning ridges of his abs. Now my hands get to play.
My fingers trace the lines. They aren’t just lean, they’re hard and responsive. The muscles flex and jerk with every soft brush. The tender flesh between my legs throbs in response. My heart races faster with excitement and power. His reaction makes me feel in command and sexy.
Oh,yes.
Rhys switches breasts, his wicked tongue flicking the tip and teasing a gasp out of me. Liquid heat gathers between my thighs as his impatient hand glides under the hem on my dress. He smooths the soft curves of my side and belly with his hot, slightly callused palms, leaving me fevered and shaking. Finally, he cups my bare butt and squeezes. I bite my lip to contain a rising moan, almost embarrassed at how turned on I am.
“Don’t do that. Let me hear you.”
Yes,sir. A soft cry tears from my throat. He shudders, his eyes darkening to midnight blue. He pushes my dress up, pulling it over my head. I shift to help him. Once it’s gone, I take my bra completely off and throw it on the floor with the dress.
“You’re wearing too many clothes.” I pout, my gaze tracing each lean, powerful line of his torso. “I want to see you, too.”
With a lopsided smile full of indulgence, he rises to his knees and rips at his dress shirt, the buttons literally flying off, then undoes his belt buckle. With a soft hiss of the zipper, and a few quick tugs and pulls, he strips out of everything.
Some men wear clothes to make them look bigger or slimmer or better proportioned. Not Rhys. His clothes have been hiding the raw physicality of his body—the insanely broad shoulders, the trim waist and hips, the strong, well-muscled legs. Between his thighs, his cock thrusts forward—long, thick and straight. Purple veins stand along the shaft, and the plum-shaped head glistens with precum.
Air catches in my throat. “Oh my God, you’re gorgeous.”
He smiles. “Glad you like what you see.”
I flush, just realizing thatI said that out loud. Well, in for a penny… I give him a saucy grin. “Ilovewhat I see.”
His breathing hitches. I wrap my hand around the back of his neck and pull him in for a kiss. He ravishes me like he can’t get enough. The pad of his thumb brushes over the highest point of my cheekbone, then circles over the bridge of my nose.
I place a hand over his, and he kisses the spot where his thumb touched. “Freckles,” he murmurs.
“What?”
“You have freckles. Very cute.”
I blink. I thought he would profess his love for my breasts or lady parts. Freckles are…sort of an unusual fetish—
