Summer in Napa - By Marina Adair Page 0,94

her legs.

“I love your body.” It wasn’t a declaration of love by any means, but the way his hands slid down her form, as though appreciating every curve and dip, made her feel cherished—something she hadn’t felt in a long time.

He took her breasts in his hands and kissed one, then nibbled and licked his way over to the other, like he couldn’t decide where he wanted to start and was determined not to miss an inch of skin.

He paid such careful attention that by the time he’d made his way to the hem of her panties she was a vibrating ball of sexual need. Then he skipped right over her panties and dropped a kiss on her knee. It was a nice kiss, firm and warm, and it sent little zings all the way to her toes. But that wasn’t where she wanted the zing—or his kisses—to go.

“I’ve always dreamed of kissing you here.” He pressed a love bite on the inside of her thigh.

“That was a bite, not a kiss. And of all the places, that’s the one you dreamed about?”

He smiled. “My dream, my rules. I also dreamed about here.” He did it again, only harder, then licked the sting away. “And here.” He moved higher.

“That’s a lot of dreams,” she laughed, her smile fading when his tongue slid around the edge of her silk panties. It was too hard to smile while you were moaning.

“We’re talking a lot of years, cream puff.” He leaned up and kissed her lips. “Want to know where my most frequently recurring dream took place?”

His hands slid up her thighs, and she knew exactly where she wanted it to take place next, and just how many times she wanted it to recur. But if he wanted to play, she could too. She cupped both of her breasts and raised a brow. “Here?”

He gave each nipple a soft kiss and then said, “Although that was my very first dream, over the years it came in at number four.”

“Hmm.” She slid her hand down her stomach and under the elastic of her panties and rubbed her swollen, moist skin. “I bet for a teen boy who has a thing for watching windows, this would rank right up there at number one.”

“Yeah,” he mumbled, his eyes blazing and riveted to the triangle of silk, like if he stared hard enough he’d develop X-ray vision to see just what her fingers were doing. “Right up there, but not number one.”

He ran his fingers up her thighs, and when they came back down, they had her panties with him.

“Don’t stop on my account,” he whispered, and she realized that she had stopped. All of her brazen confidence had fled now that she was completely naked, splayed out for his viewing pleasure, and he was still wearing his jeans.

“Maybe you should lose some of that.” She pointed to his clothes.

“Sugar, that is the only thing keeping this”—he jerked his eyes toward his crotch—“from blowing the identity of dream number one. This.” He leaned forward and delivered an openmouthed kiss directly to her center, causing her hips to buck against his lips. “Yeah, definitely ranks in at number two. But something’s missing.”

Her eyes, which she hadn’t even known had slid shut, flew open at his comment. “Missing?”

“Oh yeah.” He kissed her again, pulling a small noise from her throat. “In my dreams I always imagined you screaming.”

His hands slid under her butt, and he raised her right as his mouth settled on her center. She nearly gave in and screamed when his strong tongue pressed against her in one long lick. This would be over before it ever started, and she wanted it to go on—and on. Especially when he used his lips, his breath, his teeth, each with the perfect amount of pressure and each at the right moment.

Her whole body pulsed with anticipation, so she pushed her heels into the edge of the couch and slapped her palm over her mouth to keep the pressure inside.

Then he delved deeper.

“Oh God!” exploded from her lips, and she bucked up against him while rolling her hips to increase the pressure.

“Oh God,” she said again louder. One last buck and heat shot though her, sending her body into a frenzy as each wave of her orgasm washed over her.

Marc didn’t stop; he just slowed down, applying more kisses than nips. Convinced that she didn’t have a single bone left in her body, Lexi sagged against the back of couch.

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