Clarity - Nicole Dykes Page 0,4

looks horrified again. “You just asked if I'm not circumcised?”

He’s wound so damn tight. “Yeah, I mean the one I did see . . . the guy was really self-conscious about it.”

“I’m cut.”

My eyes drop back down. “Small?” I lift my eyes back up to his. “Because that’s fine too.” I try to hide my laugh, but I swear I'm serious. “As long as you know how to use it.”

“Fuck. You’re talking again.”

“Well, we aren’t fucking.”

He takes another step, but this time it’s closer to me instead of further away. “Is that what will shut you up?”

I bite my bottom lip, my heart racing from his presence. “Yes.” I step closer but don’t touch him yet. “Tell me what you like, Rhys.”

“Quiet.”

“Hmmm . . .” I turn away from him and point to my zipper. “I’m kind of a screamer.”

I’m surprised when he takes the hint and lowers the zipper to the top of my ass, dragging it down slowly but not lingering once it reaches the end. I slip one arm out of the gown and then the other. I’m not wearing anything underneath. It’s too form fitting for that.

“That doesn’t surprise me.”

I lower the gown to my waist and cover my breasts, turning back around to face him. His eyes don’t drop down to my chest like I would expect. “So, I can’t touch you?”

“No,” he growls simply, his voice dripping with sex and sin.

I drop my hands to the dress bunched at my waist and finally his eyes drag down, looking at my tits but not saying a word. Still, I see it there now.

Desire.

I shimmy out of the dress, leaving myself completely bare for him with the exception of my designer heels as I kick the fabric away. “But can you touch me?”

“I don’t know.” It’s sheer torment. Not just for me. I can hear it in his voice. Uncertainty. Like he isn’t sure if he can.

I take his wrist cautiously, and he starts to jerk away, but I hold on and place his hand on my left breast. I let go of him but can feel the weight of his hand on my skin. “Not so bad, right?”

HIs other hand reaches up, cupping my other breast as I bite my lip trying not to make a sound. It’s strange, but I don’t want to spook him.

I’m used to hearing how beautiful I am and how great my tits are. They are pretty great but paid for. I’m accustomed to guys telling me what they want to do to me. What they want me to do to them. Admiration and lust. But Rhys doesn’t say a word.

His thumbs circle over my hardened nipples, and my breasts are rising and falling with my rapid breathing.

I have no idea what it is about this man, but his touch doesn’t leave me bored or empty. I want more, crave it even.

“Touch me, Rhys,” I whisper softly.

His eyes meet mine, and I try to move forward for a kiss, but he shakes his head in a warning, making me groan with need.

Then he drops to his knees, his hands on my ass, and I look down at the beautiful man before me.

He doesn’t lock eyes with me. Instead his eyes are locked between my legs, staring at me. There.

I gasp, and my head falls back when I feel his tongue make contact with my wet slit, dragging slowly up to my clit. “Oh my God.”

His fingers dig into my ass, adding to the pleasure of his mouth. His tongue swirls over my clit at an almost punishing rate. He’s not taking his time with me.

Does he just want it to be over?

My hands grasp his shoulders, and he winces, pulling away from me, and I groan as I realize my mistake.

I hold my hands up as I look down at him. “Sorry. I won’t touch.” There’s a little sarcasm in my tone, but he doesn’t care. He resumes licking my pussy, focusing mostly on my clit, not letting up.

I keep my hands off him even though I'm dying to touch him, to know what’s under that tux, to strip him bare and find out what he’s hiding.

Scars?

Maybe.

I wouldn’t give a fuck with a tongue like this. “Oh God, Rhys,” I gasp, my body flying toward an intense orgasm.

I want my fingers in his hair. I want to grasp the strands and pull, but I don’t. I don’t want this to end.

I’m so fucking close and settle on cupping my own