Rate a Date by Monica Murphy Page 0,41
body.
Yep, I’m rushing right to the good stuff in my mind, when I should slow down. I need to focus on the here and now.
All that hard work eventually pays off. My nipple pops out just above the fabric. It’s already hard, and when his warm breath wafts across my skin, it tightens. Aches. I twist and turn, like I’m about to come out of my skin. I place my hands on the back of his head when he dips down and wraps his lips around my nipple.
I buck beneath him, a whimper sounding low in my throat. His lips pull and suck, his tongue lashing out, and I swear to God, if he keeps this up, I could probably come. Just from him sucking on my nipple.
Oh, this man is talented.
“You want to take this to your bedroom?” he asks at one point, his lips moving against my sensitive flesh and making me squirm.
I shake my head, my gaze meeting his. “I want to stay right here.”
Does he realize how much this is turning me on, being on this pool table, knowing my friends could possibly show up at any moment?
Who knew I could feel this way? Certainly not me.
With purposeful intent, his eyes never leaving mine, he reaches beneath my skirt, his fingers trailing the inside of my thighs, stopping right in between my legs, his knuckles brushing against the front of my panties. My lips part, but no sound comes out.
No breath either.
I’m frozen. Waiting. I can feel the muscles in my thighs trembling, and I tilt my head down, my gaze zeroing in on his thick forearm, his wrist and hand hidden because they’re underneath my skirt. He’s watching me, I can feel his hot gaze on my face, but I want to see what he does next.
With infinite slowness, he traces the edge of my lacy underwear with a single finger.
“Oh God.” The words come out choked. Barely formed.
I immediately want more.
He hesitates. I see it in his eyes. In the way he moves. Carefully, he removes his hand from under my skirt and rises back onto his knees, hovering above me. Watching me. My heart is beating so wildly, I’m afraid it might break free and leap out of my chest.
“You sure you want this?” He squints at me. Licks his lips. Runs his fingers through his hair. Oh, he appears conflicted. Like he wants to jump me yet run far, far away from me, all at once.
“Do you want this?” I ask as I bend my legs at the knee and plant my feet onto the table. My skirt is still bunched around my thighs, he can’t see my panties, but I don’t think I should worry about that.
He was, after all, just touching them.
“Fuck yes,” he says raggedly, rubbing at the back of his neck. “But we just met. You’re a good girl. I can tell. You’re sweet and you’re funny, and you think you’re awkward, but you’re not. You’re sexy as fuck. But we’re in your friend’s suite, and we’re on top of a goddamn pool table, and that’s just kind of…”
“Bad?” I ask, my eyebrows raised.
“Raunchy,” he corrects.
There’s a word I don’t hear much. I can confirm with the utmost sincerity that I have never really done a raunchy thing in my life.
Well, I think I’m about to change that.
“What do you want to do to me, Mitch?” I ask, my voice pitched low. Downright sultry.
His expression darkens. “Make you come,” he answers without hesitation.
“How?” I reach for the hem of my skirt and gather as much fabric as I can in my hand, pulling it up. I lift my butt a little, and now my skirt is around my waist. He can take a nice, long look at my lacy, cream-colored thong.
His eyes appear ready to bug out of his head as he stares at my lower extremities. “With my fingers.” His gaze shifts to mine briefly before they return to the spot between my legs. “Or my mouth.”
Um, my panties are now officially soaked. “Then do it.” I don’t know where this comes from, but I slide my hand down, across the front of my panties. “With your fingers.” I cup myself, and oh wow, that feels good. “And your mouth.”
There is no hesitation from him whatsoever. Mitch gets right down to business, resting his big hands on the inside of my thighs for a moment, assessing me with his hooded gaze. I want to squirm. Beg. Where