Page 76 of The Art of Taking Second Chances

“How…” I gasped aloud before I could complete the thought because he had my other nipple clamped tight between his teeth. I fought hard to breathe, to think.

“I saw it in your eyes. We’ve had this conversation before,” he said, then dragged his slippery tongue down to my navel, setting fire to all my nerve endings.

“I don’t buy it.” I managed to gather my wits and struggled to free my arms, but he was stronger.

“Which part?” He bit into the curve of my waist, then licked it.

I grabbed his hair in my fists and tugged. The sweet brutality of his tongue and teeth, the bristly stubble rubbing into my skin, drove me breathless. But this wasn’t a conversation, it was a competition. And I couldn’t lose. “Sounds like… something… Foucault would say…” I managed.

He got off my legs and flipped me over.

“…or Freud,” I added as he nibbled at my shoulder and my head rose up in response. This was in my wheelhouse. I couldn’t let him win.

“Hmm…” He flicked open the hooks on my bra, and the delicate lace retracted without fight. His tongue zigzagged down my spine to my buttocks, with wet kisses peppered along the way.

“…or Catherine MacKinnon….” I stole a quick, jagged breath as his tongue rolled over my buttocks.

“Are you bothered by the fact that the quote might be wrongly attributed to Wilde…or that the quote itself is false?” He bit into my fleshy bottom as promised, and my head rose up again.

But I was too consumed with what he was doing to my body to respond to how he was messing with my mind. I surrendered to my body. “Do it again.”

He went down my legs, tormenting me with his mischievous tongue, the brusque caress of his stubble, and the light tease of his fingers. He bent my leg at the knee and kissed my feet. Pushing my legs apart, he began his journey back up. Kisses, nibbles, tickles, right up to my buttocks. Only this time, I was exposed. He dipped his finger in and dragged it to my bottom. Twice. My hips flexed. With a wet finger teasing my bottom, he dug his teeth into my buttocks again. Delicately at first, then with increasing pressure until I yelped in pain. He withdrew inside the threshold and bit me wild. Then he rolled me over and grabbed my unconfined breasts in his hands. With a teasing gaze trained on me, he brought his hungry mouth onto them, and the sensations traveled down to my already slick core.

“The quote is wrong,” he said when he returned to kiss my mouth.

“I don’t care anymore. It’s my turn. You know what I want.” I held him down and climbed onto him.

He gave me his most flirty smile, the one he used on women he said were hard to get.

“It’s not going to work on me.” I grinned.

“Okay then, sex is not about power. Sex is power. As are pleasure and the erotic.” He pushed his hand into my hair and grabbed it in his fist. He knew my weaknesses, and his disarming smile was not one of them.

“Audre Lorde?” My back arched, and I moaned. “And semantics? You’re full of surprises, Sameer Rehani.” I let him take me through a rough, wild rollercoaster of a kiss. “Fuck me, Sameer,” I whispered, writhing on top of him.

He gathered me in his arms, rolled over, and lifted me off the rug. He wanted to carry me to the bedroom, but I was too tall and heavy, so we kissed instead. After pretending to drop me on the bed, he pulled out a fancy condom packet from his nightstand, rolled it down with incredible speed, and entered me with a familiarity that felt both weird and reassuring. I moaned, and my back curved up.

Holding my hands above me, he settled into a pulse, his eyes set on my face. “You’re so beautiful, Tara. I’ve missed holding your body against mine.”

I savored his weight on me, moving with him, submitting to his rhythm. His striking features and the adoration in his eyes rendered me helpless. Those gorgeous light brown eyes that perfectly complemented his deep brown lashes and light skin.

Heat coursed through my body as I kept staring into his beautiful face. “Go deeper.”

He growled. “Want to ride me?”

I nodded and pulled him into a kiss before he rolled over. I climbed onto him, setting my own pace, feeling him deeper inside me. His hands covered my breasts, and I felt myself dripping on him. He felt it too.

“God, Tara, you’re so hot,” he said, and thrust up to meet me, pushing harder, going deeper.

His hands worshipped my breasts, pressing, kneading, and bouncing with me as I rode faster. But when I felt the heat in my face, I slowed down and bit my lip in fear of the approaching torrent.

“Don’t stop. Don’t hold back,” he said, lifting his head to look at me. “Let me feel it, baby.”

My eyes pinched shut as I grazed against him. In seconds, my insides clenched tight around his thickness, and I heard him groan. My toes curled behind me, and my thighs squeezed around his hips. But I made no sound. I didn’t want to expel the power of my orgasm just yet. Keeping his grip firm and steady on my breasts, he pumped hard. When I was finally ready to scream, ready for it to end, all I could manage was a whimper. A soft whine of complete satisfaction.

Happy and spent, I collapsed onto his chest, inhaling his scent before taking him to his peak. I remembered what he liked as if we had never been apart. When I felt him pulsate, I bent over and bit hard into his shoulder. The loud groan that emanated from his chest traveled to my stomach, and I trembled as he erupted inside me.

I slid down beside him, panting hard. “That was incredible, Tara. Just…incredible,” he said, and a gush of pride and joy surged through my body.

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