Rate a Date by Monica Murphy Page 0,42

is this coming from? It has to be the blue hawaiian drink. Maybe it was full of some sort of magic sex serum.

Or is it just the explosive chemistry between me and this man? I can feel it now, crackling and popping between us. His hands on my skin feel like heaven. The way he’s looking at me, as if he wants to devour me whole, is making everything inside my body feel loose and warm.

“I can smell you,” he whispers harshly just before he dives in and presses a kiss on the inside of my knee. “I bet your panties are wet.” He kisses my left thigh. “I bet I’d barely have to touch you and you’d come.” He kisses my right thigh, his face dangerously close to where I want him.

“Touch me and find out,” I whisper just before I become momentarily stunned by my blatant invitation.

I have never said anything like that before in my life.

He goes completely still and glances up, toward the doorway. My heart stops. Is someone here? Is the door opening?

Oh God, are all of my friends about to barge in here and catch us?

But no. The door doesn’t open. No one else appears. It’s just me. And him.

On the pool table.

“I might need to be quick,” he says as he returns to his task. “Before your friends show up.”

“It, um, takes me a while usually.” When he frowns in confusion, I explain. “To…you know.”

Well, that really isn’t an explanation.

“To ‘you know’ what?” He leans in and presses his mouth just above the waistband of my underwear, on my lower belly. A jolt slams through me at first contact, and I press my lips together so I don’t scream.

I am not a screamer, people. Not at all.

“Orgasm. Climax. Whatever you want to call it.” The awkward, embarrassed Eleanor I know comes back out with those words, and I drape my arm over my eyes so I don’t have to look at him.

He shifts his position, and the next thing I know, he’s removing my arm from my face, his warm gaze meeting mine. “Challenge accepted.”

Now I’m the one frowning. “What?”

“Game fucking on, Eleanor. I bet I can make you come in less than five minutes.”

“Oh, that’s never happened to me before in my li—”

He cuts off my protest with his lips, kissing me senseless. His hungry mouth consumes mine, his tongue doing this sensual stroke thing that immediately makes me want to lose my mind. I wrap my arms around him, holding him close, drowning in his taste, and somehow, his hand ends up back on my panties again, settling directly between my thighs. He presses his palm against me with just enough pressure that I gasp into his mouth.

“Like that?” he asks, his voice brimming with confidence.

I don’t bother answering. He knows I like it.

Mitch continues kissing me. Touching me. For at least thirty seconds he keeps it fairly clean. Hand over the panties, not under them. Mouth firmly glued to mine. I am a squirming, uncontrollable mess, but somehow he calms me. Captivates me.

Lulls me into this sex-induced trance.

He slips his fingers beneath my panties, holding them there for an excruciatingly long moment, cupping me. My lips go still and my body becomes tense. All I can concentrate on is his fingers right there. Touching me.

I hardly know him. We only just met in person tonight. Yet here I am letting him finger me on top of a pool table.

Who am I?

“So wet,” he murmurs against my lips as he starts to stroke. And he’s not wrong. I am so wet, I can hear his fingers move through my slick folds.

I strain toward his fingers, a hiss escaping when he slips one inside me. Then another. His movements are restricted thanks to my panties, and with impatience he tugs them down. Past my hips, leaving them winding around my thighs when he resumes touching me.

I’m held prisoner by my thong. I can’t spread my legs wide enough, and he’s working magic between my thighs, stroking me deep, his mouth still on mine. I pull away from him, a frustrated noise escaping me as I reach for my panties and try to take them off.

He gets the hint quickly and helps me, tossing them over his shoulder as if he doesn’t have a care in the world. For some reason, this gesture cracks me up, and I start laughing.

Hysterically.

Mitch grins, scooting away from me, repositioning his large body. I don’t know how