Page 197 of Lovers' Dance

“Hmm, you talk a big talk, but you and I both know I’ll have you blushing within five minutes,” he said in that lust-clogged voice of his.

I arched one eyebrow at him, gaze dropping, then slowly traced my lower lip with the tip of my tongue. Matt inhaled sharply and let the towel fall to the floor. It was my turn to inhale sharply and the only word I could think of was exquisite. When I finally dragged my eyes back to his face, the smug smirk on his mouth confirmed I had been drooling—figuratively, of course. I wiped the corner of my mouth, just in case.

“Black girls—” I started.

“—don’t blush,” Matt finished as he got on the bed with the agility of a panther in search of its prey. “I know. Come here, let me make you not blush.”

I reached out for him, letting the covers slip. He inhaled deeply, closing the small distance between us in the blink of an eye. I gasped—part pleasure, part giggle—at the sensation of him kissing my shoulder. I was definitely enjoying the added texture on my skin. A picture was needed, I might never see him with stubble again. But, first, I needed to make good on my threat to break him…

“Give up?” I raised my head to look at Matt. He had a death grip on the headboard. His face was strained with tension, but I could see that spark of defiance in his eyes, even though the clear grey had darkened with desire. I let out an exaggerated sigh and lowered my head. With my free hand, I lightly traced the fingers over his flat stomach and I felt the muscles clench beneath my touch as he let out a breathless moan. My other hand was busy, as was my mouth. I could taste he was getting close, and I moaned around his hardness which caused him to jerk upwards. Slowly I dragged my lips over him, and sat back on my legs, holding on to him.

“I can keep doing this all night,” I warned with a little smile. “Concede defeat and you can go to sleep a happy man.”

“Never,” he said gruffly. My little smile became full blown. I was enjoying this battle of wills. “A Bradley”—The movement of my hand caused the hitch in his words. He took a shaky breath and grinned at me—“never admits defeat.”

“I’ve already broken you. Have the guts to accept it,” I drawled, stroking him slowly. I had been trying to get him to admit I’d broken him for the past hour. Bringing him close to orgasm, then pulling him back from the brink of complete pleasure. Matt was stubborn if not anything else. I didn’t think he would hold out this long, and we’d spent the three hours before that sexing like bunnies. Normally you wouldn’t expect someone to keep going after three hours of intense love making, but Matt was a sex machine. I swear, a few times in our relationship I had contemplated feigning sleep to get him to take a break.

“Why don’t you put your sweet mouth back where it belongs?” he cajoled, arching his hips upwards. I chuckled low in my throat.

“I broke you,” I said with confidence.

Matt caught his lower lip between his teeth and nodded once. Good. I lowered my head, tongue swirling over the tip of his hardness.

“God. Poppet, please don’t tease me anymore.” He sounded desperate and I wasn’t a cruel person. I stopped teasing him. There were only two sounds to be heard in the bedroom. The sound of me having a delightful time going down on my knight, and his hoarse cries of pleasure as his body gained release.

“I—you—uhnhrg.” He groaned incoherently as the spasms of his climax slowed down. Wiping my mouth, I went back to my sitting position and stared at him. I loved him like this. Spent and satisfied, with that almost dreamy expression on his features.

Matt rolled his head to the side, peering at me through thick lashes. “I should go away more often,” he murmured.

I shook my head in mock anger, and he crooked his index finger at me. Seconds later, I was nestled in the curve of his arm, cheek pressed against his heaving chest. We stayed silent, cocooned in each other’s arms and basking in the glow of mutual fulfilment. With the back of his hand he stroked along my jaw; once, twice, then sank his hand into my hair with an audible sound of contentment.

“Poppet.”

“Mhmm.” I pressed a kiss to his warm flesh and inhaled deeply. There was something about the way he smelt, his scent triggered something inside me, something that turned me into a besotted fool.

“What time are you due in the studio?” he asked, fingers massaging my scalp.

I buried my face in his chest. “I should be in for around seven-ish.”

“It’s gone four am. Why don’t you go in later? I’m not in the office today, and we could have a lazy morning.”

As enticing as that sounded I had work. “I can’t, Matt. Things are manic at the studio, and I’m already down a week because I have to go home for Thanksgiving.”

“We have to go for Thanksgiving,” Matt corrected. “Have you decided what day you want us to fly out? I need to let my pilot know.”

I flicked my tongue over his taut nipple and his hand tightened in my curls. I did it again, and Matt let out a low chuckle that had me glancing up at him.

“What?” he drawled.

“You’re sexy with a beard.”

Matt arched an eyebrow at me. “It’s stubble and what are you trying to imply? That I’m unsexy without one?”

I rested my chin on his chest and blinked a few times. “No, a different kind of sexy.”

Matt narrowed his eyes. “It’s going, poppet. Don’t try giving me those puppy dog eyes. Now, when do you want us to fly out?”

I thought about it for a moment. “This Saturday?”

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