Finding Mr. Write (Business of Love #5) - Ali Parker Page 0,50
a king-sized bed, white sheets, white curtains, and navy-blue walls with crisp crown molding and baseboards. Two wall-mounted lights framed the bed, above which hung a foggy picture of a rolling landscape of hills, mountains, and trees. There was a light gray blanket draped across the end of the bed and a bench on the floor, under which were four pairs of Wes’s shoes neatly lined up.
He had his shit together.
His sex appeal tripled in a matter of seconds.
Wes opened one of the top drawers of his black dresser and rummaged around until he found a white cotton T-shirt. He held it up to me. “Will this work?”
I hooked my fingers in the hem of my shirt and pulled it over my head.
Wes stared at my breasts.
“I don’t think I need a change of clothes just yet,” I whispered.
He swallowed and forced himself to look me in the eyes. “A hot shower then?”
I shook my head, unbuttoned my jeans, and shimmied the wet denim down my legs to my ankles, where I stepped out of them. By a happy coincidence, my black bra matched my lace panties. My hair was soaking wet against my back, and my skin was covered in goosebumps, but I didn’t feel cold.
I felt like I was on fire.
Wes’s forehead creased. “I thought we were taking this slow.”
“I changed my mind.”
“Just like that?”
“Just like that.” I reached behind my back, unclasped my bra, and let it fall from my shoulders. It dangled from the tips of my fingers before I let it fall to the floor. “Now what are you going to do about the naked girl in your room?”
“I’ve been writing too many scenes,” he breathed. I wasn’t sure what that meant. He moved toward me. “The real thing is so much better.”
I smiled, stripped out of my panties, and met him at the end of the bed completely naked. “You have no idea, Shakespeare.”
Wes tore his shirt over his head.
His muscles flexed as he worked to undo his belt and jeans. He stumbled as he stepped out of them, caught himself on the bench, and turned to me with a look of primal need in his eyes.
Yes, I thought. This feels right.
He stood in nothing but a pair of tight black boxers that left little to the imagination. He was hard as a rock and huge. It was almost intimidating. My pussy tightened as I thought about him sliding his cock inside me.
Wes swept me up in his arms and threw me down on the bed. I sank into the fluffy duvet and giggled as he climbed on top of me and showered me in sweet kisses. His lips grazed my throat, chest, and breasts, where he stayed for an indulgent amount of time. He took my nipples in his mouth and ran his tongue over them until I was breathless. He pinched them between his teeth, teasing me, until I plunged my fingers into his hair and pushed him lower.
Wes inched down the length of my stomach. He pushed my legs forcefully apart.
My heart raced and the flame burning inside me screamed for more. Every nerve ending strained, waiting for that delicious flick of his tongue to come.
Wes paused, face framed between my thighs, and locked eyes with me. I bit down on my bottom lip and held his gaze. He dropped his head.
His tongue slid up the length of my pussy.
I moaned immediately. There was no holding on to it. It felt like I’d been keeping so much at bay since the first night I met him, and now the dam had broken, and everything was flooding through at once. The rush of endorphins and pleasure made me dizzy. The white ceiling overhead swam like I’d had far too many cocktails, but the only thing I was drunk on was the man between my legs.
He spoiled me with his tongue. I’d never been licked and suckled at like that. My body trembled and sang sweet melodies as he slid his hands under my ass and then over my hips so he could hold me down on the bed. I plunged my fingers into my hair and bit down on the inside of my forearm as he swirled his tongue over my clit before sucking it into his mouth.
My belly rose and fell rapidly as my breathing became erratic.
I’d never had an orgasm during sex before. Was this what it was like? It felt like I was climbing to the highest point of