Page 64 of Silver-Tongued Devil
“Mm. I’m going to do that, don’t worry. I’m just enjoying looking at you so much.” He watched in the window as his hand moved up, his palm settling over the firm curve of her breast. She sighed, pushed back into him, and whispered, “Yes. Please,” and he wondered if he was going to be able to make this last.
“I think I need to lay you down,” he said. “I need to have some room to kiss you and love you right. But we’re going to leave this thong on for a while, because that’s just too pretty.”
“You know,” she said breathlessly, her eyes nearly closed now as his fingers worked her breast, swirling and plucking at that firm little brown nipple, “you talk a lot.”
He was so startled, he laughed out loud. “Yeah. It’s been mentioned. And you know what—I just changed my mind.” He had both hands cupping her breasts now, was running his thumbs over the tips, and she was absolutely squirming. His mouth needed to be there. He needed to make her squirm some more, and he needed to do it for a long, long time.
“Wh-what? No. Don’t change—” He gave her a gentle pinch, and she gasped. “Don’t change your mind.”
“Need a bed,” he whispered in her ear. That chain was right there again, and he had to suck it into his mouth and bite her there. And when she moaned, he had to bite some more, didn’t he? It was necessary.
But while he did it, he was walking her ahead of him through the galley and into his cabin. He spun her around, her thighs hit the mattress, and down she went. Right onto her back.
He switched on the lamp, and there she was, the gold and black of her laid out on his white comforter like his very best present. He was over her, levering himself on an elbow, and she was pulling at his T-shirt.
“No fair,” she said. “I need you naked.”
He got it up over his head, and she was rising up, helping him pull it off, her hands greedy on his chest, down his sides, like she needed to touch him, too.
“Come on,” she said. “Please. Come on.”
He’d get to his pants later, he decided, because he needed to kiss her. Needed to wrap his hands in her hair, hold her head, and give that full, soft mouth all the loving it deserved. Her mouth opened under his, and his tongue was inside, tasting her, and when she joined the party… Oh, hell, yeah. That wasgood.The desire was licking down inside him, all jabs and silver streaks, and he was so hard, he ached. She was making those noises again, too, because she was feeling the same thing. She had her hand around his head, her fingers digging into his hair, and he could feel the little shudders in her, the electricity of his kiss, as if her body were his own.
He needed her to be grabbing him harder, though. He needed to get her noisy. He needed to drive her crazy.
He was at her neck, sucking at her, biting her, moving over her, learning what she liked, and what made her crazy. The spicy scent of her perfume was in his head, her silken skin under his hand, and his palm was on her breast again. No choice. He had to. Her hips were moving already, and he was half gone.
And when his mouth moved over her shoulder and settled on her breast… her head went back, just like that. Her mouth opened, her back arched, and she was making some “ah… ah… ah” noises that were going to kill him. He used his tongue and his lips and his teeth on her, and he found out she loved to be bitten there, too. Gently. That was very good news, so he did it some more.
He didn’t want to leave, and he had to leave. His hand was stroking up her thigh, her legs were parting, and the silk of her in those secret spaces at the tops of her thighs… he had to kiss that. Hehadto.
A detour for that barbell, licking into her navel, and then he was taking the two sides of that black thong in each hand and dragging it down her body, exposing her, watching her thighs part for him.
That was pretty as hell. That was Christmas and his birthday and the Fourth of July. She lay there across his bed, her arms flung over her head, her dark hair around her, breathing hard, and he felt a hundred feet tall. He stood up and rid of the rest of his clothes in one big hurry, barely remembering to grab the condom out of his pocket and toss it on the bed.
She opened her eyes, looked at him, gave him a slow, languorous smile with that pretty mouth, and sighed. “Blake.”
“Yeah, baby.” He wanted to say something else, but his words were gone.
“You’re so beautiful,” she said. “And you’re really, really good at this.”
He laughed. He couldn’t help it. “I get better. Just wait.”
“Mm.” She was on an elbow for him, reaching for him, stroking the length of him, and—damn. If she kept doing that, he wasn’t going to make it. “Could you please hurry up, though?”
Now he was really laughing. “You’re going to make me lose all my mojo. And, no, I can’t hurry up. I’m going to go slow.”
“Oh.” She sighed. “Am I going to like it?”
“Oh, yeah. You’re going to love it.”
Everything in Dakota’s body was tingling. Every single cell in her wanted him to get there, wanted this to getgoing.
She’d never been a patient person. Now, she was about to scream. Because he didn’t start up where he’d left off, where she needed him to be. He came down over her and kissed her again, long and slow and deep, and it felt so good, but she needed more. She shifted under him, grabbed his wonderfully muscular butt, and tried to move him over her, and he… stopped kissing her.
“Dakota,” he said sternly, his hand wrapped in her hair, “you’re being a little bit forceful here, darlin’. I think I’m going to have to insist on a little more cooperation.”
She narrowed her eyes at him. “Did I ask for a quarterback?”
