do not care to shave. Pinch your nipples,” he rasped.
She did as she was told.
“I want the taste of them on my tongue. I want to feel their silkiness tighten as I suck on you.” His gaze met hers, and the accusation she saw had her throwing up a wall. She knew the minute his lips parted he was going to strike at her. “I wish I had gone straight out to my car that day at the gallery. Had I not lingered, I would never have seen you.”
Boom.
She held his eyes, refusing to let him see just how mortally he could wound with his honest but cruel comments. The eloquent way he spoke somehow made it worse.
She fought back by dropping her hands down and hooking her thumbs into the sides of her tank. “I’m thrilled you lingered,” she said as she shimmied it carefully over her ass and down her thighs. As the music swelled behind her, she let it fall the rest of the way by itself. “If you hadn’t, I never would have experienced you. And even though you continuously hurt me, I’m happy you’re in my life.”
“I wish you were not in mine.”
She shrugged and shook with the effort it took to remain in front of him. Her libido shrugged it off. Who cares what he says?
I do, her heart whispered.
She steadied her voice and tossed back a flippant, “Guess you should have used that big brain of yours and thought twice before you drugged and kidnapped me.”
“It would not have made a difference. I would have taken you anyway because I had to.”
What did that mean? “Sounds to me like you created your own problem then. Maybe you need a few lessons in restraint.”
His pupils expanded as a soft growl flowed up his throat. He gripped his erection and squeezed it. No way did he try to hide it. “You stand before me, more ravishing than any goddess in history, your body bared to torment me as you draw this moment out. Yet you speak to me as though we are standing on an inner-city street corner.”
She was tormenting him? Not yet, she thought with a malicious smirk. But she would.
“If you touch me, I will take it out and refuse ever to put one in again.” She gracefully went down to her hands and knees and turned sideways. When she stuck her ass in the air, a steady flow of Romanian bubbled from his lips. She flipped her hair so it landed across her back, tipped her head sideways, and looked at him from under her lashes. My Little fucking Pony this, Frosty.
“Is this what you imagined I would look like when you first gave me the title of pet?”
She wiggled her ass and felt the soft fur tail swish against her skin. When he didn’t answer, she knew she’d won this round. That was also when she realized that emotionless edge that often came into their conversations had been absent from this one. His expression was openly showing desire and pleasure. She could plainly see how excited she’d made him. How badly he needed her attentions right then. He was letting her see it.
She took her time and made something of a production crawling to him. “You don’t like the way I talk? I could always speak like you. Miranda hates it.” She sent her palms stroking up his calves and over his knees, not stopping until she felt a zipper under her fingers. His cock was like a post sitting on his thigh. “Tell me, Frosty, would it please you if I were to offer you hurtful words wrapped in a prettier speech pattern?” She opened his pants and freed his long shaft. “Mmm. Or would you rather I put my mouth to better use?”
Her heart beat in her ears as she closed her fists around him and stroked up and down the silky skin. She wished she could paint, no, sculpt him. She would pay homage to the thick base, the virile shaft that barely tapered once it came up to where her fingers were flirting with the bell-shaped head. Long, heavy, the skin a shade darker than anywhere else on his body. Minimal hair without man-scaping. A full, potent sac…
Yasmeen forgot her game as her need to connect with this man in any way she could took over. She parted her lips and slipped them around the smooth head, moaning unashamedly as she tucked herself between his spread legs.