Page 51 of Bombshells
Luckily, the view keeps improving. Anton works his way out of his tux trousers and toes off his shoes. His body is lit only by light leaking in from the street lamps, but it’s enough to make a girl crazy. Those strong shoulders flex and pop as he leans down to discard his socks and underwear. A dusting of sandy blond hair glints across his pecs.
And when he stands upright again, I can only stare. No man has ever stood at the foot of my bed, his thick cock jutting proudly forward, ready for sex with me.
I’m not afraid. Although the mechanics of how I’m going to accommodate that are not a hundred percent obvious.
He puts a knee on the bed, and I wait for him to kiss me again. But that’s not what happens. Instead, he leans down to my breast and tongues my nipple through the lace fabric.
“Oh,” I gasp, because it feels so good. My nipple is hard and achy, and then he actually bites me gently. It’s so unexpected that I have to squeeze my thighs together against my desire.
I hear a chuckle. Then he tugs the bra down a couple inches until I spill over the top of it. This time, the first swipe of his tongue makes me moan shamelessly. And the bra is really a problem. I want nothing between us at all. So I reach back and give it a tug. It releases on the first try.
“Naughty,” he breathes, flinging the bra away. “I was enjoying that.”
“But—”
He presses a sudden kiss to my lips, shutting me up, as he grabs both my hands and hoists them overhead. His body covers mine. Finally. The hard heat of him is everything I ever wanted.
“Did you know?” he mumbles into my mouth as we kiss, fast and messy.
“What?” I pant, threading my fingers through his. I flex my stomach muscles and roll my hips, just to feel more of him rubbing between my legs.
“How much I’ve wanted to fuck you?”
“No,” I whimper, lifting my knees to wrap my legs around his ass. “Maybe you could get on with it, then.”
He actually snorts. “You’ll wait until I’m ready. And I’m not nearly ready.” Then he lowers his cock between my legs and grinds down until I whimper.
We fall into more of those soul-deep kisses that I’ve waited far too long to taste. I’m ready for him to take me completely apart.
And I doubt I’ll ever want to be put back together again.
Seventeen
There’s Nowhere to Hide
ANTON
I’m on fire, kissing Sylvie like a man possessed by the devil.
For two months I’ve had fantasies about her. But none of them unfolded like this—with Sylvie luring me up to her apartment and bidding me to remove her dress.
Take me to bed, she’d said. I’m not a strong enough man to turn her down, no matter the complications.
This is a fluke, and I know it. In fact, I’m probably going to wake up in a minute to find that I’ve fallen asleep in front of the TV with a half-eaten Dorito on my chest. Because this resembles a really good dream far more than it resembles real life as I know it.
Either way, this is probably my one and only chance. And you’d better believe I’m going to make it last.
Pulling back, I break our kiss, only to kiss my way down her throat while she shivers. Her hands ruffle through my hair, and I groan against her skin.
Trailing my lips down her body, I pause and tease her tummy with my tongue.
“Anton,” she pants. “Please.”
Pinch me, already. I never thought I’d hear her moan my name. And I really want to hear it again, so I slide even farther down, until my feet hit the floor, and I can lift those long legs over my shoulders. Dipping my chin, I breathe hotly against her pussy, which is still trapped in lace.
“Oh God,” she pants.
I spread her thighs and lower my mouth to the lace. I’m a little rough, a little dirty. Usually I’m sweet with Sylvie, but I was so confused when she invited me upstairs that I lost my manners. I dropped the facade of indifference that I usually carry when we’re in the same room. What’s left is a hungry animal.
