Page 28 of Take Me, Sir

He grinned at me. “You're thinking far too hard, love.”

“So you bit me?”

He raised an eyebrow. “Did I hurt you?”

I scowled at him but shook my head. “Not really.”

“Excellent.” He leaned down and brushed his lips across mine. “Because some people might not bite...but I rather enjoy it.”

A shiver ran through me. “Good to know.”

His mouth and hands began to move over my body, touching and teasing every inch of exposed skin – except the place I wanted him most. I cursed and writhed as little sparks of electricity danced across my nerves, but he never stopped. He seemed determined to taste all of me, and unless I used the safe word he'd given me, he wasn't going to stop until he was done.

Still, I begged.

“Please, Dean, please. Fingers, mouth, I don't care. Just please.”

“Where do you want my fingers and mouth?” He kissed just below my belly button.

I glared at him. “I'm not one of those women who has issues with talking about sex.”

“So do it then,” he dared. His thumbs caressed my inner thighs. “Tell me where you want me to touch you.”

I gave him a snarky smile. “A little farther north.”

He chuckled, the sort of rich, sexual sound that made my stomach clench. “Say it, love, or I won't do it.”

I doubted a Sub was supposed to tease a Dom, but I was still me, no matter how much I wanted him. “Do you prefer correct anatomical terms? Or do you like pussy? Cunt? Or is there some weird British term you want me to use?”

He laughed again. “Love, you are something else.” He ran a finger down my slit. “Use whatever word you're comfortable using.”

My eyelids fluttered as his knuckle brushed over me again. “Just touch me, please, Dean.”

“Touch what?”

“My pussy! Dammit! Whatever the hell you want to call it!”

That laugh ran through him even as he pushed his finger inside me. Then his tongue and fingers were where I needed them, and I no longer cared about our little back and forth. All I cared about was that he kept doing what he was doing. When he wrapped his lips around my clit and began to suck, I came, pulling hard enough on the belt to lift my top half off the bed.

My arms were burning when I dropped back down, but I barely noticed. I could hear my heartbeat, feel every solid thump against my ribcage. What I couldn't feel, though, was Dean.

I opened my eyes and saw him at the end of the bed, pulling off his pants. I seized the opportunity to appreciate the amazing body being revealed. Broad shoulders, and a muscled torso, but not overly so. Some women may have liked their men big and bulky, like football players or weight lifters. Personally, I'd always preferred a swimmer's build, probably because I'd been obsessed with the Summer Olympics growing up.

Dean was built like something out of an artist's imagination. Not one of those artists who sculpted pretty marble men with discreet little leaves covering their crotches. No, more like an artist who understood the rugged beauty of a powerful, self-assured man. Rock-hard muscles, a narrow waist, and a cock that would've been impressive even soft, but was, quite frankly, intimidating when erect.

Like it was now.

I licked my lips in anticipation, imagining how he would taste. I hadn't yet had the pleasure, and I definitely wanted it. I'd always been ambivalent about oral sex, but he made me want a lot of things I'd never really wanted before.

His long fingers wrapped around the base of his shaft, and he began to stroke himself, the movement slow, almost leisurely.

“You're beautiful.” The words slipped out before I realized I'd thought them.

“Am I now?”

His accent was thicker than it had been when we'd first started, and I wondered if he deliberately softened it, or if it'd faded on its own.

“You know you're gorgeous,” I said. I flexed my fingers, starting to feel that pins-and-needles sensation that came with poor circulation.

---