Light Her Fire (Private Pleasures 2) - Page 5

“Now you know my secret,” she teased as she straightened, torturing every inch of his cock with the slow slide of her backside against the front of his trousers. Her hair tumbled forward, baring the nape of her neck to his lips when she shoved the key into the lock. The mechanism released, clicking loudly in the otherwise silent hall. “What are you going to do about it?”

“This.” He pushed her through the door and into the darkened waiting room so quickly they almost fell over. Her fingers fastened onto his shirt. His tangled in her hair. His mouth found her throat and he got to work there while the sweet, flowery scent of her perfume fogged what was left of his brain. She moaned impatiently and reached for his belt buckle.

Hell no. It’d been three long months since his good-bye party in Cincinnati, which meant three long months since anyone had hefted his main hose except him. If she touched him right now, this office tour would be over in about two seconds.

“Uh-uh. I can see I’m going to have to teach you patience.” He took an evasive step away and banged his shin on the corner of the magazine-strewn coffee table, sending a stack of Southern Living tumbling to the floor.

“Oh, goodness, are you okay?”

He grunted an affirmative, maneuvered them around the table, and took stock of the options in the waiting room. Two armchairs and a small

sofa. They could do better.

“Come on.” He pulled her through the door separating the waiting room from the rest of the office and, walking backward, hauled her down the narrow hallway. “Exam room. Now.”

“End of the hall, on the right,” she managed while trailing a line of searing kisses along his jaw. Then she sank her teeth into his earlobe. He staggered through the door on the right, his hands busy on her blouse buttons.

“No, my right,” seeped into his consciousness around the time he lifted his gaze from the line of alabaster skin revealed by her unbuttoned blouse. They stood in an office, not an exam room. The big, solid wood desk offered a number of interesting possibilities, to his mind, but she hooked her fingers into the waist of his pants and tugged him across the hall, into, hallelujah, an exam room. He hit the wall switch and fluorescent light poured down on them.

She blinked against the sudden brightness. Her pupils were huge and slow to react. He took advantage of her momentary blindness and swept off her shirt, then reached behind her and unsnapped her lace-trimmed white bra. When the bra hit the floor, he stepped back to take in the view, which was staggering enough it took him a moment to realize she stood there, still as stone, staring at him like…he didn’t know…like she needed reassurance? Odd, seeing as she came on to him.

He raked his gaze down her body, and her nipples tightened for him. Beckoned to him. And even though he wasn’t the kind of man who showered a woman with flowery words, he heard himself say, “Jesus, you’re sexy. So fucking hot, it ought to be a crime.”

The smile she unleashed on him brightened the exam room better than a thousand fluorescent bulbs, and told him he’d guessed right. For some unfathomable reason, despite all the bravado, she genuinely lacked confidence in her allure.

“You think so?”

The question made him determined to convince her. “You’re beautiful. I’m sure you’ve heard that your whole life, because it’s true, but I’m not talking about your beauty. I’m talking about how you walk around town with your debutante smile, your nice manners, and your Southern breeding, and make sure nobody sees past the Miss Bluelick facade. But I do. I see past the act. Underneath the smooth, cool beauty there’s a flesh-and-blood woman who likes to get dirty. That woman is real, even though you try to keep her hidden away. You know she’s there, and now I know she’s there. And yeah, she’s sexy as hell.”

His words seemed to be working for her. She ran her hands over her abdomen and up her torso, until her fingers grazed the undersides of her breasts. They paused there, as if she was uncertain of her next move.

“Look at you, so ready to show off for me, you can barely keep your hands off yourself. Do it, Bluelick.” He heard the brutal note in his voice, but there was nothing he could do to temper it. Her core of vulnerability got to him, probably because he had no experience handling a woman like her. Assertive, sexually confident types? Yes. In spades. And he would have sworn they were exactly the kind of playmates he preferred, but this woman could lead him around by his dick if he didn’t watch himself. “Do it,” he repeated when she didn’t move.

Their eyes locked. She feathered her fingers over her breasts. Impossibly, her nipples beaded even more. Saliva filled his mouth. His chest tightened at the thought of those hard points scraping his bare skin. He unbuttoned his shirt and shrugged it off in the blink of an eye, and then yanked his T-shirt over his head. “Again. But this time do it the way you do when nobody’s watching.” He stalked closer. “No need to act so polite with me.” He guided her fingers to her mouth, pushed them inside, and then slowly pulled them free. “Show me how you really like it.”

A very pretty blush crept up her chest and into her cheeks, but she raised one perfectly groomed brow in a don’t-tell-me-what-I-like look and swept her wet fingers over her nipple, even more delicately than before, purring like a cat as she brushed the tip. He wondered why he didn’t simply explode from the relentless pressure pounding deep in his gut, in his balls, all along his shaft.

A low growl filled the exam room. It had to have come from him, but he couldn’t concentrate on anything except teaching her the dangers of poking the bear. He banded his hands around her arms and hauled her against him, dragged those hot, hard little points all along his chest, growling again when she wrapped her legs around his waist and tipped her head back. Her thighs clamped his hips, and he felt her need through three layers of fabric. He flicked his thumb over one taut nipple, and she cried out.

“Too rough for you?”

“Uh-uh. No.”

“You like it a little rough?” He took the weight of her breast in his palm and pinched her nipple.

“Yes. My God, yes.”

“Good.” He moved his hands under her hips and lifted her higher. “You want my mouth on you?”

She speared all ten fingers into his hair and nodded.

“I’m not going to be gentle, because we both know you don’t want gentle. I’m going to torment you until you’re stiff and aching—until even the whisper of my breath on your skin makes you moan.”

He’d never had a breast in his mouth so fast in his life. It might have been funny except she was like fire in his arms, rising and falling, twisting and burning, using her heat to brand him as she ground against him in time with every pull of his lips. By the time he moved on to the other breast, she was clutching his head so fiercely he hoped his neck didn’t break.

“Harder,” she ordered, and tightened her hold. “Suck harder. Please. Make me feel it everywhere.” He suddenly didn’t give a shit if tonight ended with an ER doc bolting a halo brace to his skull. Some things were worth the risk.

A few steps forward brought them to the exam table. Her breast popped free of his mouth when he dropped her onto the padded surface. The noise she made might have started out as a protest at the loss of his mouth, but turned into an impatient sound when he skimmed his hand down her left calf, over her ankle, and pulled off her sandals. The shoes hit the tile floor behind him with two distinct thuds. She would have wrapped her legs around his waist again, but he hitched his hands behind her knees and pulled her off the table, ignoring her swift, startled breath. As soon as her feet made contact with the ground, she reached for his fly.

Tags: Samanthe Beck Private Pleasures Erotic
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