Page 63 of Getting Wrapped Up

“I want some,” she said, pushing him back with a hand on his shoulder.

He’d been balanced on the balls of his feet, so the nudge set him to his ass on the foyer floor.

He looked up at her and wrapped a hand around her calf, pulling her forward.

“I’m still thirsty.”

He lay back and tugged her forward at the same time. Kate had to take a step to stay on her feet and she ended up with a foot on either side of his head.

A precarious position for a number of reasons.

It certainly wasn’t modest. She was on heels at least one inch taller than she was used to. And the look in his eyes as he gazed up at her from the floor turned her knees to jelly.

“Levi,” she said softly. But she didn’t have anything else to add to that.

“Most gorgeous thing I’ve seen in forever,” he said solemnly. His hand stroked up and down the back of her calf. “Let me have you like this, Katie,” he said.

The jelly in her knees, the heels, her deep, pulsing desire for this man that seemed to get stronger every time they touched—or a combination of them all—sent her to her knees. She knelt over him, the most vulnerable part of her just above his mouth.

Without any instruction or even much thought, she tipped the champagne bottle again, watching the tiny bubbles course over her stomach, mound and clit to Levi’s open mouth. His hands went to her ass again and he brought her down against his tongue. He licked and sucked, her desire coiling tighter and tighter in her pelvis. Then he thrust his tongue into her and she arched, crying out.

“That’s my girl,” he praised at the sound of his name. “More. Give me everything, Kate.”

“I want you,” she gasped as his tongue continued to torment her. “I want you inside me.”

“Deep and hard,” he promised darkly against her. “Soon. Not yet.”

“Levi—” But that tongue was still at work and before she knew it, she was flying high, her climax crashing over her.

“Talk about appetizers,” he said, letting her butt settle against his chest. He wiggled underneath her. “The floor’s hard here.”

“I hadn’t noticed,” she said with an admittedly satisfied grin.

He pinched her butt. “So this is the foyer. I assume that’s the living room?” He nodded toward the back of her couch.

Her kitchen was to the left and the hard wood floor continued in there, but the living room area was just to the right and had nice, new, luxuriously soft carpet. They scooted, giggling and gasping as her sensitive lady parts rubbed against the crisp shirt he still wore.

The minute they were on the carpet she said, “Take your clothes off. Now.”

She’d much prefer her sensitive lady parts rubbing against his naked chest. And other naked parts.

“I’d rather you did it, actually,” he said. “And maybe turn around to do it—” He showed her exactly what he meant, gripping her hips and pivoting her to face his feet. And the very obvious erection behind his tuxedo pants.

She wasn’t sure this was the best angle for his view ofher, but she couldn’t resist. She pulled his shirt from his pants, undid his belt and opened his fly. The silk boxers were impressively tented and she ran her hand lovingly over the hard flesh, sliding the slick fabric along his length. She was hot and wet again instantly.

“Damn, girl, I’ve missed you,” he said behind her. His hands were still on her hips and he nudged her up onto her knees.

The position put her hot, wet parts right back where they’d been a minute ago and his tongue quickly resumed all of the delicious actions. But now she was in a position to give as good as she got.

She freed his erection from the boxers.

“Is this—” She gasped as he sucked a little harder. She cleared her throat. “Is this a rented tux by chance?” she asked, her hand around his shaft and the champagne bottle within reach.

“Own it. Rip it, soak it, do whatever you want. I’ll buy another one.” His words were clipped, as if maybe he didn’t have full control over his reactions.

She grinned. She did love dating a guy with enough money to fly to see her on his private plane, who would pay to redo her floors if they happened to “spill” too much champagne—not that much had made it to the floor—and who would just buy a new tux if they messed this one up.

“Yes, sir,” she said.

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