a hand—
“No, don’t.”
A cold, wet nose grazed the back of hers.
“Stef,” Ben ordered. “Stand up, slowly and carefully.”
Her eyes found his. “Why—” The dog began licking her hand in earnest before burrowing close, nearly knocking Stef down when she all but crawled into her lap. Sinking back onto her ass, she began scratching and rubbing and found herself being kissed all over.
The last thought had her looking up at Ben, remembering how very close he’d been to kissing her all over.
His expression was a mixture of horror and shock.
Maybe he didn’t want to kiss a woman all over who’d been on the receiving end of a dog’s tongue?
She winced. Yeah, that was probably true.
“I’ll . . . uh . . . wash my hands before we . . .” She trailed off, pointed her finger between them. “Continue with—”
Ben blinked and sank down next to her.
The adorable angel in her lap growled.
“She doesn’t like me.”
Now it was Stef’s turn to blink, to wonder why a man who lived in a fucking penthouse with marble and mirrors and a white freaking rug in the entryway was living with a dog who couldn’t stand him.
“She doesn’t like anyone.”
Stef blinked again, glanced down at the white floof, trying to reconcile that fact with the sweetheart in her lap. “That’s not true,” she crooned, lifting her and nuzzling the pup’s face. “She’s a sweetheart.”
“That’s her name,” Ben said. “But I’ve never seen her act like one.”
“You’re Sweetheart?” she asked the pup.
Who responded by kissing Stef’s chin.
“Aw, baby,” she said, cuddling the dog closer. She was a tiny thing, mostly fur and bones and when Stef stood, holding her against her chest, the pup snuggled against her, and it had to be the cutest thing she had ever seen.
“I’ll put her in her crate,” Ben murmured, reaching for her.
Sweetheart growled.
“Do we have to?” Steff asked, sending sad eyes in his direction.
His were filled with heat. “We don’t,” he murmured. “We can hang on the couch and watch Dr. Pol.”
“I love Dr. Pol!” she exclaimed.
He groaned and let his head drop back. “Not you, too.”
“I admit I cringe at the surgery parts—”
“I think that’s the masochist’s favorite part,” he quipped, nodding toward the pooch. “She’s particularly focused when the good doctor starts castrating.”
Stef winced. “So, maybe not Dr. Pol?”
Big brown eyes on hers. “Whatever you want, baby.”
Baby.
It slid down her nape, trailed across her breasts, tightening her nipples, curling in her abdomen, filling the space between her thighs.
She glanced from the pooch to the man.
Though one was cute, the other was responsible for the fact that her pussy was wet. “Where’s her crate?” she asked. “I’ll put her away.”
The grin that Ben gave her had more moisture gathering between her legs, had desire flooding her senses. Her muscles were drawn tight over her skeleton. Her limbs trembled. Her nerves fired, sending sparks across the surface of her skin. Her lips—both sets of them—were tingling.
“This way,” he said, leading her down the hall and into one of the bedrooms . . . that had been converted into a doggy playroom. Numerous beds and toys were scattered across a plush rug, a water fountain took up space in one corner, a crate with a pale pink cover in the other.
He held the kennel door wide for her and with a kiss to Sweetheart’s head, she tucked the pup inside. Ben locked it in place, ignoring the rumble of displeasure from Sweetheart.
They both stood, and his mouth was still curved.
“You tame wild beasts in addition to Hoovering popcorn?”
Stef laughed as she stepped toward him. “Apparently, I have two superpowers.”
Then she kissed him.
And found peace and heat, calm and tornado of desire, all at once, all in an instant. Her fingers dug into his shoulders, trying to get closer, even though every inch of her was pressed to every hard inch of him. His tongue didn’t hesitate this time, just slid right into her mouth, coaxing hers into a rhythm that was as effortless as breathing.
She clung to him, held on as he transformed her.
Suddenly, she was lifted into his arms again as Ben spun them, pinning her against the wall. Her ankles clasped around his waist, his cock ground into her.
“Fuck,” she whispered, her head falling back as his mouth trailed down her throat.
A nip to her collarbone had her bucking against him.
Another had her hands sliding beneath his shirt, feeling the smooth expanse of his skin, blazing hot and threatening to reduce her to ash.
But she walked right