Page 85 of Not the Plan

His eyebrows came together. “Guess I lost you there for a little bit, beautiful. I mentioned that one of my sisters-in-law is black. My brothers and I have dated pretty much everyone. And my parents wouldn’t say much anyway. My dad is French, and my mother is Berber, from Algeria. They had a lot of difficulty at first,because of the history between the two countries. They’d never put anyone else through that.”

“That’s good,” she said.

“So, you think—”

She’d linked her fingers with his again, then she brought his hand to her lips, brushing them across his knuckles.

“I’m sorry, Karim,” she whispered.

“For what?” His lips had fallen open, his question soft.

“It’s not going to be enough.” She turned their hands, placing the tip of his thumb onto her lower lip. She held his gaze as she sucked the fleshy part into her mouth.

He gasped.

“Pizza and beer,” she whispered against his thumb. “It won’t be enough for me.”

“No?” His gaze homed in on her lips. He still hadn’t let her taste him; she wasn’t playing fair.

“No,” she said, sucking more, pulling him in deeper, then out, letting the tip rest on her bottom lip again. “I need you, Karim. Come with me?”

She led him to her bedroom. At the side of the bed, she removed his glasses and pulled his sweater off over his head. He took off her cardigan and reached for her neck. She stopped him.

“Let me,” she whispered. In accepting her vulnerability, he’d made her yearn for him to accept her power—the power to take him over the edge the way she wanted.

“Sit for me, gorgeous?”

Standing between his knees, both hands sliding into his hair, she smiled as he tucked his face between her breasts and molded his hands to her hips.

“There’s something I want from you, Karim. Something I’ve been very patient for, but you still haven’t let me enjoy.”

“What’s that, beautiful?”

She luxuriated in the depth of his voice, its warmth. Sighing, she rocked a hip forward, nudging his hand onto her ass. Chills greeted his pursed exhale as he cupped it.

“I need to taste you, Karim. Every inch.”

Shyness skittered through the arousal written all over him.

“You don’t have to.”

She shoved his shoulders hard, crashing onto the bed with him.

“I know I don’t,” she breathed against his neck. Then she attacked him—kissing, nipping at the tendon she’d gotten hung up on at the table. His gasp and shudder strengthened her resolve to do this the way she wanted. Working her way down, she varied her attention. The beginning of a protest died on his lips when she reached down and caressed the bulge straining against his jeans.

“It’s hard,” he groaned.

“That’s what I like about it.”

A chuckle bubbled up, but it morphed into a sharp gasp when she took one of his nipples between her teeth.

“I mean—” He groaned deep as she sucked hard, plucking at the other. “It’s…it can be difficult, and I don’t want you to feel like you have—”

“Are you saying that you’re too well-endowed for me to take you into my mouth?” He writhed under her tongue circling a pad of muscle beneath his navel. If she looked and sounded the way he did right now, she understood why he loved going down on her. Creating that response was its own turn-on.

“No,” he breathed. “I just…it’s a lot of work.”

She giggled. “I’ll be the judge of that.”

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