Page 20 of The VIP Package

I shiver and grip his hair tighter. If I don’t anchor myself to his skull, I might actually fall over.

“Notharder.” He releases my nipple and looks up with clear irritation. “I don’t believe I would look good bald.”

“You don’t want to find out for sure?” I loosen my grip on his hair, but only a little.

“You shouldn’t take risks with a man holding your nipple between his teeth.”

My laugh morphs into a hiss at whatever he’s doing with his mouth. There’s this soft, gentle suction, followed by a tight pinch that’s almost painful. Then more gentle pressure and the swirl of his tongue. I cry out in pleasure and he does it again. Andagain.

Ashton Holyfield fucking pays attention.

Also, I’m pretty sure he’d look great bald. He’d look great wearing a burlap sack and a Burger King crown.

“What’s making you smile?”

I look down as he sucks on my nipple again. “Um, that feels fucking amazing?”

“You had a thought.” He does the whole suck-and-nip thing again. “I can tell when something lights up in your brain.”

“You’ve known me two hours.” And yet, here we are, touching each other intimately for the second time. “I pictured you wearing a Burger King crown.”

He blinks. “Has anyone ever told you you’re a very strange woman?”

“Insane,” I clarify. “That’s what the last man I slept with suggested.”

“He sounds wise.” Ashton licks me again. “And handsome. A Burger King crown?”

“Also a burlap sack.”

Sitting back on his heels, he stares up at my face for a second. “I’ve never met anyone like you.”

“You don’t get out much, do you?”

“No.” Something I can’t read passes over his face. “I don’t.”

“Good thing we’re staying in.”

“Indeed.” Gripping my hips, he gets to his feet. Turns me around so we’re facing each other, but now his back is to the sex swing. “Mind if I have a seat?”

He doesn’t wait for an answer. Just sits on the padded swing platform, gripping the handles as he finds the stirrups with his feet. Of course, they’re too short, so I drop to my knees and adjust them for his height.

“I was going to offer you the manual,” he muses, “but I see that won’t be necessary.”

“I’m a quick learner.” I’m also impressed he’s allowing himself to be in such a vulnerable position. It’s not every man who’d park his bare ass on a sex swing with someone he’s just met.

Extending his legs in the stirrups, he watches me rise to my feet. “Come here.”

I’m getting used to him bossing me around, because I don’t even comment. I just move to stand near his right side. “Here?”

“No, here.” He releases the handles and leans back in the seat, abs flexing with effort. “By my head.”

The way he’s reclining must take an incredible amount of core strength. I watch like a voyeur as he slings a second strap behind his shoulders. “I appreciate the help,” he quips. “I don’t suppose you could adjust that pully right there?”

“This?” I tug on a lever that makes the strap longer. “How’s that?”

“Perfect.” He eases his torso back, coming to lie with his upper half parallel to the ground. His feet rest on the floor, stirrups dangling by his shins where he won’t have troublefinding them again. It’s a bit like he’s lying on his back at the edge of a mattress, long legs bent over the sides.

“Right here.” He lets go of the handles and holds out his arms. Toned pecs flex and his impressive biceps are on full display. “Straddle my face, Camille.”

---