SLOW PLAY (7-Stud Club #4) - Christie Ridgway Page 0,56
zipper or the hem of her shirt.
He spanked his palm again. “Babe.”
She jumped.
“Hurry.”
“That caveman routine isn’t the turn-on you seem to think,” she began, then he took a step forward and her breath caught with a little gasp. Her shirt flew off, leaving behind the sweetest of light pink lace bras.
Mad felt no compunction about pointing at it with the business end of the wooden spoon. “That too. Now.”
Her breasts bounced as they were released from their confines.
He smiled as reward, but didn’t back off. “Get rid of the rest.”
“You’re bossy,” she said, even as she obeyed.
“You love it,” he countered, then tried not to sing hallelujahs as the rest of her was revealed, smooth skin, flushed and feminine. He was close enough to smell her arousal, mixed with a light perfume that dizzied him.
Curling his fingers, he beckoned her. “Come here, sweetheart.”
Her lashes swept down and he prepared for defiance, but then she walked to him, cuddled close. One of his arms curled around her waist and he rubbed the spoon against her rump, letting the cool wooden surface caress her skin. She shivered and he lowered his head to kiss the side of her neck, sucking to leave a mark.
The sight of it made him want to possess her wholly. Need to possess her.
“You still like the idea of the kitchen?” he asked against her ear.
She shivered again, and her voice trembled too. “Anything. Anywhere.”
This time it was he who grabbed the honey and he pulled back just far enough to squeeze a dollop on each of her nipples. They budded more tightly, their color a deep pink. God.
Tossing sweetener and spoon aside, he swept her into his arms only to set her down again, on the two-person kitchen table. Then he bent to her body, intent to make her crazy by doing his own sucking, licking, laving. Her hands were in his hair, nails biting into his scalp in demand as he took each breast into the cups of his hands, plumping them for better access.
His need for her was voracious and he took her with greedy hunger, until she was shaking, her breath coming in quick pulls. “Mad,” she pleaded. “Please, Mad.”
The desire in her voice shredded his control. Without thinking, he quickly turned her onto the table, setting her on hands and knees. Wide-eyed, she looked at him over her shoulder and he almost lost it at the sight of her, that body, ass-up, her gorgeous face, expression saying she was willing to let him do anything.
Jeans. Wallet. Foil-wrapped condom. In record time he took care of that particular chore and then he was behind her, looking down at that ass, then up to her face again. “Okay?” His hand stroked along her spine.
Her eyes shut and this time it was a full-body shudder. “Mad. Mad.”
He cupped his latex-covered cock, pumping it, then played his fingers along her soft, pleated flesh, feeling the wetness there, the readiness. He fit himself to her slick channel, then gripped her hip as he pushed, penetrating by degrees, slow, slow, until he was all the way in and held there.
She dropped to her elbows with a low moan.
He caressed her hip and leaned over her body. “Okay?”
Her “Mad” came out throaty as she crowded back, taking another inch of his cock.
Fuck. He pulled back, came in again, torturing himself with the clasping heat of her. He slid his hand from her hip to her clit, toying with the pulsing bud of flesh, reveling in the way she bucked against him in response.
“Harp,” he said, bracing his free palm on the table as he moved, licking her ear. “This is so good. You feel so good to me.”
He stroked her sweet little clit, trying to hold out as he felt a new tension in her body. She was getting close, thank God, low sounds coming from the back of her throat. Then she stiffened, gasping, and he knew it was upon her, her inner muscles tightening.
Taking him there too.
After, the room smoked with their combined heat but he managed to ditch the condom and then pick her up. “Bed,” he said, when she made a vague protest.
“No one told me kitchen sex means bruised knees,” she murmured, turning her face into his chest.
“Maybe I can find something for that,” he said, and kissed the top of her hair.
She slipped bonelessly between his crisp sheets. In the low light of the bedside lamp, she looked worn out, which pumped his ego