Play Mine (Brooklyn Dawn #3) - Cari Quinn Page 0,43

angle. How maybe I wasn’t as perky as some.

Forget maybe. Only so much perky could happen at my cup size.

Then his darker fingers slid against my fair skin. Cupping and lifting. Caressing in a way that made everything inside me strain for more. Especially my nipples.

“Definitely cinnamon,” he said against my ear as I trembled. “You’re so beautiful. Every part of you.”

One hand moved lower to splay over the swell of my belly. I was not super skinny. I was a morass of freckles. And he still explored me as if I was the finest treasure.

He undid my skirt and it fell down my legs to pool over my heeled booties. I stepped out of it and faced the rest of me. Slight in some parts, a little too wobbly in others. In between my legs were delicate red curls that I didn’t shape into the shaved trend of the day. Or better yet, made disappear entirely. I was groomed, but I was natural. Just me.

“Beautiful here too.” He slid his hand over me, held it there while I absorbed the sight of his tanned skin against the pale flesh I’d by turns hated and learned to ignore. Through his eyes, it wasn’t something to wish away.

It was simply part of the whole. Part of who I am.

Just like the barely visible stretch marks here and there. The bony knees. All the pieces that never quite added up right in my head, so I didn’t look. But this time, I did. And when I reached down to lace my fingers with his over me, his mouth at my ear was more than the devil on my shoulder. He was my angel too.

“Let me watch.”

Those words. So innocent. Such a fire in the blood.

I was still sensitive from a few minutes ago. It felt like forever. I couldn’t decide how I felt. If I wanted to turn my face into his shoulder as my fingers moved slowly against my slick folds, because his fingers were still on top of mine. Pinning me in a subtle way even now. Or if I wanted to study the slide and twist of them as I made myself arch back against him.

In the end, I did both. My eyes were wide open and, on the mirror, as I sought my release. He lifted his hands to my breasts, his fingers restless against my nipples, now so much darker and fuller. The insistent pressure of him behind me both supported me and let me fly.

And then I didn’t need to watch anymore, because it was all happening inside me and he’d helped me find my way to this place. Turning my head to hungrily meet his mouth seemed so much more important than seeing myself shatter.

So much better if he shattered with me.

In me.

I drew my hand away from between my thighs right when I was on the verge. He grabbed my wrist and brought my fingers to his mouth with a low needy sound I felt in my bones. My other hand went to his zipper and he shuddered, not even bothering to hide it. Just the promise of what was to come made him vulnerable.

I’d never felt more for him than I had in this moment. When we didn’t have to speak and everything was new and unsteady and somehow so right at the same time.

“You wanted to watch,” I murmured into his mouth before I kneeled before him and pulled down his zipper. I couldn’t do it slowly. Not now. It felt like I was unwrapping the best gift I’d ever been given. My fingers tangled in the material of his boxers and then I shoved both them and his pants down and he popped free.

God. It was a good thing I’d left myself on the verge of coming, because we probably wouldn’t have gotten far otherwise.

His skin was paler here, but still so much darker than mine, surrounded by dark, wiry hair. I licked my lips, and he whispered my name, half prayer, half chant, and scooped my hair back.

When he watched me suck the head of him into my mouth, it wasn’t in the glass. His gaze never left me as I opened myself up for his invasion.

He was so thick and long that my jaw ached almost immediately. I was out of practice, and my knees were already sore from this position.

And I barely felt any of it because my only focus was that subtle expansion in my mouth and