Page 30 of Three Not-So-Little Words
The corners of my lips pull into a smile. “Nope. I think you better show me.”
Once we are inside, I toss down my keys and walk through the open living room to the kitchen.
I open a cabinet and look inside. “Do you want anything? Something to drink? I hope you’re not hungry. I don’t have much food.”
I feel him walk behind me. In a split second, he spins me around so that we are facing each other. As I look up at him, he takes his thumb and rubs it over my bottom lip.
“Oh, I’m hungry,” he says before lifting me under my ass and setting me on the counter. “But food isn’t what I’m in the mood to eat.”
His words give me even more tingles below the waist.
With his fingers, he angles my chin toward him, making it easier to press his lips to mine. I try to take things slow—you know, enjoy the moment and tease him a little. But the way his tongue is dancing with mine makes me anxious to see what else it can do.
My hands fist in the fabric of his shirt in a desperate attempt to pull him closer. Wanting more contact, I quickly undo the buttons on his shirt while we continue to kiss. I untuck his shirt and push it off his shoulders. He wears a ribbed tank top that looks small compared to his broad chest and wide shoulders.
And the tattoos.
Oh lord, the tattoos. I’ve always been a sucker for an inked man. I only have one tat. It’s a rose right at the top of my right butt cheek. It’s what happens when I get drunk with my brother’s girlfriend who happens to be a tattoo artist.
As my fingers roam along the muscled skin, his hands grab either side of my face, holding me still while his kiss melts me into a puddle.
My hands move over his chest and down his stomach until I get to the bulge in his pants.
A loud groan rumbles deep from his chest as I squeeze his cock through the thin material.
As much as I love sitting here making out, my vagina is begging for more attention.
I break the kiss and breathlessly ask, “Bedroom?”
He doesn’t respond with words but instead steps back and holds out his hands to help me off the counter. As we walk to my room, I sway my hips a little more than normal, knowing he’s watching my ass.
When we are through the door, I stop to quickly kick off my shoes. I feel Drew’s fingertips trailing across the skin on my shoulders.
Gathering my hair in one hand, I drag it out of his way.
“Unzip me?” I ask.
Slowly, he pulls it down, exposing my back. About halfway down, the zipper gets stuck. He wiggles and fights with it a minute before asking, “How attached are you to this dress?”
“I’m never going to wear it again.”
That’s all that he needs to grab either side of the fabric and rip it right down the middle.
Why is that so hot?
I pull the small straps down my arms so that I can shimmy out of the dress and let it fall to the floor.
I stand in nothing more than my strapless bra and thong.
Drew’s hands rub the globes of my backside. “Damn, woman. This ass is fucking perfect.”
When he unclasps my bra and turns me around to get the full view, he adds, “Scratch that. Everything about you is fucking perfect.”
“What do you want to do to me?” I ask.
“Everything. Absolutely everything.”
Sinking my teeth into my bottom lip, I look up at him. “What are you waiting for?”
