Wicked Sexy

26

I lower my mouth to her ear and very deliberately say, “I think you’re the sexiest f*****g woman alive. You’ve been driving me wild since the moment I set eyes on you three years ago, and even if you just laid here snoring while I made love to you it would be the best s*x of my entire life because it’s with you. Now I’m going to get you naked and eat your p***y like it’s the last supper and you don’t have to do anything but enjoy it, do you understand me?”

Her shy smile is worth more to me than all the gold in Fort Knox. “Good.” I kiss her softly on the lips. “Oh, and one more thing.” She drowsily blinks up at me.

“You’re not allowed to come.”

Her eyes snap open. “What? Are you joking? Connor—”

Before she can say more, I sit back on my heels, yank down her zipper, and drag the leather pants down her legs.

11

CONNOR

“F ucking hell,” I mutter, staring down at Tabby’s spread legs.

“What’s wrong?” she says, panicked. She rears up on her elbows.

Wrong? Nothing’s wrong. Everything in the universe is perfectly right.

First, she isn’t wearing panties. It’s an unexpected, thrilling shock to find her laid bare to me like that, open and vulnerable and deliciously pink where only seconds before there was an impenetrable wall of black leather. The sheer decadence of it takes my breath away.

Second, she’s a natural blonde. That’s almost as much of a surprise as the first thing. I reach out and softly brush my fingers over pale gold curls, and hear a choked exhalation pass my lips. Why it should please me so much that she isn’t shaved I have no idea, maybe it’s the animal in me, but I know exactly why I like it that she dyes the hair on her head red, but down here she’s au naturel.

Because it’s a secret. No one else gets to see it but me. It’s a secret I now know, and feel privileged to know, and will always remember.

Third, and perhaps most astonishing of all, her c**t is pierced. I’ve never seen that in real life. I stare with my mouth open, drinking her in, loving everything I’m looking at.

Unfortunately, I’m so busy enjoying the visual feast that I’ve momentarily forgotten who I’m dealing with.

Cursing and red-faced, Tabby tries to roll out from under me, but I catch her and press her back down against the bed before she can escape.

“You’re incredible,” I blurt, holding her wrists above her head and gazing into her eyes. “I didn’t mean to scare you or be disrespectful. It’s just…you’re even better than I dreamed.”

She stares up at me, breathing hard, her gaze darting all over my face. “You’ve seen me before, coming out of my shower. You’ve already seen me naked.”

I make my voice as gentle as possible. “I didn’t see all of you. Just, well, your breasts, yes, and the tattoo on your stomach, but lower only—impressions—you covered yourself with your hands

before I could see that you were”—my voice turns husky—“blonde. And pierced.”

She asks cautiously, “And you…like that?”

I grind out, “I fuckin’ love it, princess. When I’m eighty years old, I’ll be jerking off to the memory of what I just saw.”

She stares at me a moment, and then turns her head to the side, but not before I see the pleasure flash in her eyes, quickly veiled. “You’re a perv,” she says primly, which makes me grin, because I know we’re past the danger.

“You bring out the beast in me.”

I lower my head and indulge myself by nuzzling her jaw. She lies very still, allowing it, and stays still when I slide my hand down her arm to the collar of her jacket. I tug down the zipper a few inches, exposing pale skin and the pulse beating hard and fast at the base of her throat.

That stops me cold.

A swell of unidentifiable pressure rises from my stomach, spreading through my chest, tightening my lungs. I marvel that the simple sight of the blood rushing through her veins—blood made to rush by me—could have the power to strip me of all other thought, even as I lie on top of her, our naked legs tangled together, my straining erection so close to the place I want to bury it.

I stroke the fluttering vein with my finger. Tabby closes her eyes.

Adjusting my weight so I don’t crush her, I carefully rise to one elbow and inch down the zipper again, stopping just below her navel. It’s missing its ornament. I slide my hand inside her jacket, feeling the warmth and silken softness of her skin, and she inhales, her lips flattening. When I gently stroke my fingertips around the outer curve of her breast, her lips part, but she remains silent and perfectly still.

I feel the tension rising in her body like a wave.

This is why I told her she couldn’t come. She’ll repress her own pleasure, think herself out of it, unless I can short-circuit the system by giving her something to distract the problem-solving, frantic part of her brain. Against the wall before the firetruck arrived to spoil the mood, I made her count out loud. But for this, to get her where I want her to go, we have to up the ante.

I nuzzle her ear, lightly take her earlobe between my teeth. “I’m gonna touch you everywhere, Tabitha. Anywhere I want, anywhere it pleases me. And my mouth is gonna go anywhere it wants too.

If you want that, say yes.”

Her eyes stay closed. Her breathing is shallow and fast. “Yes.”