Page 4 of Skin Deep

“Less talking, more moving.” When he remained immovable, she huffed out a breath of impatience. “I like all kinds of things. Why? What do you like?”

A gasp escaped her as his hands moved to her hips, urging her to bend over. She did, stretching her arms out in front of her, her spine elongated with rear canted into the air. He bent over her, pinning her in place, and she savored the weight of him, pressing her down into the mattress.

“I like sex.” The wet heat of his voice fanned out over her ear, and she trembled. “That’s what I like.”

“Isn’t that a given?” She heard the quiver in her voice, fought to smooth it out. “I mean, isn’t that why we’re here?”

“Maybe I’m not making myself clear.” His voice was low, amused, shades darker than it had been before she’d been naked and beneath him. “When it comes to sex, I like everything.”

“Nobody likes everything.” Her voice was breathless, but there was no room for air, not when everything in her core had gathered low and tight. “What’s your favorite position? What’s your most wicked fantasy? What do you want me to do right now?”

She gasped when he slowly inched his hands up, smoothing over her flesh until they cupped her breasts. She pressed forward into the touch, aching for more.

“You’re being very specific.” His breath fanned over the top of her head. “I don’t know how to explain it further. Whatever your favorite position is? Right now, that’s my favorite, too. Your most wicked fantasy? Also mine.”

Squeezing her breasts lightly, he flicked the tips between his forefingers and thumbs, the touch combined with her piercings sending shock waves of need through her.

“And what I want you to do right now?” He pressed a warm, openmouthed kiss to the base of her skull. Amy had never known that the shallow indent could be an erogenous zone. “I want you to tell me what you want.”

“I want...” The words, so vibrant in her head, choked when they hit her tongue.

What was wrong with her? She’d never had trouble telling her partners exactly what she did—and didn’t—want. Why couldn’t she spit it out right now?

Maybe...maybe because there was something happening here that she couldn’t put a name to. Something that went beyond a one-night stand.

“I want...” She tried again, then cleared her throat. She wasn’t going to let fear keep her from what she really wanted, right this moment. “I want...you.”

“Jesus.” Before she could say another word, inhale another breath, she found herself flat on her back. She cried out when he tugged her hips toward the edge of the mattress, then knelt on the floor between her spread legs. He made no secret of the intensity with which he studied her center, sending a warm flush over her skin.

His gaze tracked up over her stomach, her breasts, her neck and face to her eyes. When their eyes met, her pulse skittered. Her brain told her that whatever was about to happen was going to change her, but she couldn’t—wouldn’t—stop.

His hands clasped her on either side of her waist, then slid down. He traced the outsides of her thighs, down to her knees, then moved over and back up the inner planes. When his fingers brushed her outer lips, she shivered, feeling the burn of his skin right through the satin.

He kept his eyes on her face as he lowered his mouth and pressed it to her mound, over her thong. She tensed, shifted her weight beneath him, desperate for more.

“I think what you want me to do right now is to kiss you right here. Over and over, until you come.” She felt his words as vibrations on her sensitized flesh. “That means it’s what I want, too.”

She wanted to reply, to say something that would break through some of the erotic and emotional tension in the room, but her throat was too dry to speak. Instead she nodded, the movement almost frantic.

She closed her eyes, letting her head fall back on the cool sheets as he hooked a finger in the skimpy strings on either side of her thong. She lifted her hips without being told, letting him tug the fabric over her hips and down. He took the time to rub each ankle, each foot as he unhooked them from the garment, finally tossing it to the floor.

She was naked now, completely so. She’d been naked with others before, but she’d never felt this exposed. When he started to trail a finger in looping lines over the flesh of her inner thigh, she knew that he was tracing the lines of the flowers inked there, a single thorny stem that branched out into two red roses in bloom.

Nobody had ever taken the time to admire her ink like this before, not beyond a question or comment or two. It did something to her, knowing he was taking the time to appreciate something that was so intrinsically part of her.

She just hoped he didn’t take the time to admire all her other tattoos, not right now. She had enough that it could take all night, and she was running out of patience fast.

Finally. Finally he lowered his head. She opened her eyes long enough to catch the greenfire in his eyes just before he placed his mouth on her naked skin.

She gasped as he kissed her, long and slow and wet. His fingers joined his mouth, holding her open so that he could swipe his tongue through her folds. He worked his way up one side, then down the other. Her fingers fisted in the sheets until finally he focused his attention on her clit. She gasped as he moved his tongue over the swollen nub, over and over until her body clenched with the sheer pleasure of it.

“You like that.” He hummed with approval, sending shivers through her sensitive flesh, then returned to the long, slow strokes of his tongue. Pleasure slid through her, slow and sinuous like sun on a warm day. She wanted to bask in it, but heat gathered quickly, low and tight in her core. How had he driven her to the edge so fast? It was like he already knew her body, every place to touch that made her gasp and sigh and pant.

“Good girl.” Pulling back for a moment, his face wet with her desire, he grinned up at her. “Give us what we both want.”

She made a small sound, deep in her throat, as he returned to his work, swirling his tongue around the center of her pleasure, over and over again. If anyone else had called her a good girl, especially when she’d given him the gift of her submission, she would have had her clothes on and been out the door in the next breath. But when Fred said it, she understood that he was actually demonstrating his appreciation for her giving in to the moment. For her submission, though she felt as though she should chafe at the word.

Fred growled. Grabbing her hips, he yanked her even closer to the edge of the bed. Hooking her legs over his broad shoulders, he licked harder, faster, and within moments she was panting, riding that wicked edge of release. It sliced through her like a razor, leaving her gutted and exposed.

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