Page 14 of Mr. Hook-up

I could smell it in the air, and I was letting it peak.

“Are you wet?” I asked.

“Why don’t you go see for yourself.”

Of course, I could do that.

But words were as sexy as foreplay, and that was where I decided to start.

“I asked you a question, Love. Tell me, are you wet?”

Her exhale breezed across my face, sending me more of that island flavor. “Dripping.”

“Because you know what I’m about to do to you?”

“What I hope you’re going to do to me ...”

My hand left the wall to circle her neck, squeezing just enough that her eyes widened before I lowered to her chest. Now that I was really touching her, I noted that the red material was a mix of something other than lace, so in some places, it was more forgiving than others. Her tits were one of those spots, and since she wasn’t wearing a bra, I could tug her nipples through the dress. Flick them with the tips of my fingers. Bite as I drew one into my mouth.

“Ahhh,”she moaned.

And while my teeth stayed occupied, my hand traveled over her hips and across her ass.

Gripping.

Binding those cheeks with my palm.

“Shit,” she gasped. “That feels—”

“You’ve felt nothing yet.”

After tonight, I wanted to know her body.

I wanted the images in my head to measure up to the ones I was feeling now. And even though time wasn’t something I had much of, I didn’t rush the tour my hands were taking. The way my palms drew up and down her sides, measuring, inhaling. They circled her navel and dipped to her hips and down the outsides of her thighs. While they stayed busy, my mouth was just as occupied. I focused on her breast, the curve that led to the center, the softness in between her cleavage, the way the other side rounded until I met her nipple.

“Oh yes,” she cried.

Her movements, the way she gripped my arm and held the back of my head, told me she wanted more. She wanted friction between her legs. She wanted pressure. She wanted an orgasm that would consume every part of her.

She would get that.

All of it.

But not yet.

I centered the highest part of her back and shoulders against the wall and gradually lifted the bottom of her dress, revealing the most gorgeous legs.

What separated us was a lace thong.

Instead of slipping it down her body, I wanted to see the way she would react when I ripped the sides and shoved the flimsy undergarment into my pocket.

“Oh God,” she panted the second it was freed from her body.

That sound, that burst of air from her lips, was one I hadn’t experienced yet—and one I very much liked.

I kissed my way down her body, each press of my lips thought out, deliberate. I studied each spot I landed on, putting it to memory as I continued lower.

When I reached her center, I got onto my knees, my face close enough that I could take in her smell. An aroma that was just as tropical but even more pronounced down here.

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