Page 28 of Wicked Pickle

Except … suddenly I can breathe.

He covertly unhooked this boulder holder without even unzipping my dress.

It’s strapless, of course, given the open shoulders. I hear a thud and realize my bra has landed on the floor.

He’s pulled it out!

I’m free inside the dress, which drops perilously now that all the structure is gone.

“Gorgeous,” Diesel murmurs. His hands flirt with the outer edge of a breast. “I want these in my hands. May I?”

My only answer is a stuttering sigh, which he takes as a yes. His thumbs tease the nipples.

The satin of the dress is fluid in his palms. The bodice slips again, and the top edge barely hangs on.

“Do I get to see if they are as beautiful as I imagine?” Diesel asks.

I’m not the least bit under my own control. I’ll do anything he says. I roll my shoulders, and the bodice falls to pool at my waist.

“Fucking perfect,” he says, lifting both breasts in his hands, then bringing his mouth to one.

I suck in sharply. I don’t know what I’m doing. I don’t know who this man really is.

But I also don’t give a damn.

This is too good. Nothing that’s ever happened to me with a man compares to what I’m feeling.

Diesel is menacing and sexy in all black, his hair dark against my pale skin. I watch him working me, my body on fire. I feel high, like I imagine heroin would be. His sex is a drug.

And I am absolutely going to take a hit.

Will I ever see him again? Probably not.

Am I going to remember this until the grave? Hell yes.

Diesel takes the other nipple in his mouth and reaches behind me. There’s no more asking. He knows, as every rogue probably knows, when he’s landed his prey.

The zipper slides down, and in an instant, the tulle dress has puddled at my feet.

All that’s left are pink panties and my silver shoes.

Diesel pulls away to take me in. “And here I was hoping to slice you out of something.”

“I still have panties,” I say, going lightheaded.Who is this person talking to him like that?

“Takes too long.” He grasps the edge of the lace trim and yanks.

The panties rip easily.

Holy shit.

Forget bodice ripper.

He’s apantyripper.

Diesel tosses them. “Now I’m going to look at you.” He takes a step back.

Shyness flashes through me. I know what I am. A little doughy in the middle. Dimply in the thigh.

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