Not So Nice Guy(58)

My stomach clenches and I dig my fingers into his shoulders.

Dirty questions like that will get him mauled. He really should be careful.

His head tilts down to rest on my shoulder and he sighs. “I’m losing my head here, Sam.”

My fingers thread through his hair and I let him hold me for a few seconds before I remember my goal. “You can continue now. I want to see the rest.”

“You saw me naked in the shower,” he reminds me, stepping back and unbuttoning his pants.

“That was ages ago. I need a refresher.”

His tuxedo pants fall to the floor and Ian stands in front of the hotel shower in nothing but a pair of white Calvin Klein boxer briefs. I bite my lip, tilt my gaze to the ceiling, and count to ten.

“What are you doing?”

“Praying.”

“It looks like you’re about to break off a chunk of that granite counter.”

Maybe I am.

“Wait.” He steps closer. “We aren’t even. You need to catch up now.”

I stare back down at him with an arched brow. “What do you mean?”

“Your bra…lose it.”

It’s Not So Nice Ian talking now—demanding, in fact.

I think my face goes slack.

“Or do you need help?” he asks with a wicked gleam in his eyes.

He steps forward and I hold up my hand to stop him. If he touches me, that’ll be the end.

I reach back and find the clasp for my bra. “Are you sure?”

He tilts his head and grins. “You’re right, leave it on.”

I sigh and drop my hand. “Phew. Okay.”

In one second, he’s on me, reaching around and unhooking that clasp. The lace cups fall away and cool air rushes in. My nipples tighten and I wrap my arms around myself to cover up, but then I remember it’s Ian who’s standing in front of me, my husband. My breath rushes out of me every time I think that word. I can’t be shy around him. He’s waiting for me, rubbing his thumb just below my ear, up and down the side of my throat, coaxing. Slowly, I drop my arms, and he releases a shaky breath. I look down to see what he’s seeing. My breasts are cream and pink and perky, and they really are decent, not so big that they’ll knock someone out, but when Ian reaches for them, they fill his palm, and best of all, they’re oh so sensitive. My head tips and hits the mirror behind me as my eyes roll into the back of my skull. He’s working his magic, rolling his thumbs in slow circles, and then I hold my breath as he bends down to taste. Slowly, methodically, he takes each breast into his mouth, looking up at me while he does it.

It’s such a startling sensation that I nearly pitch forward off the counter, but his hands are on my hips, holding me in place as he licks and teases and blows warm air on skin that is not touched nearly enough. I thought the delicate lace lingerie felt good, but Ian feels better. His tongue laps at the tips of my breasts, his mouth closes around each one, and I’ve never had an orgasm like this, but that’s why they say there’s a first time for everything.

He laughs when I tell him that, and then there is no more laughter, because his hand dips into the front of my panties and there’s so much wetness there, I’m nearly embarrassed. My cheeks burn. Before, I could have played this whole thing off with a few shrugs and cool smiles, but now there’s no lying. My body wants Ian and he knows exactly how much.

“Open for me a little,” he begs, and I oblige dutifully.

The outsides of my knees hit the cold counter and he takes the thin blue lace that covers me up and pulls it gently to the side. My hands are on his shoulders, and there’s no way I’m letting go now, especially when he emits a sexy groan and drags a teasing finger up and down my wetness. He’s taking things slow, staring down at me like he’s assessing a newly acquired piece of property. This is mine, and this is mine, and then he sinks his middle finger into me and oh yes, this is mine.

“Ian,” I whimper as he drags his finger out slowly then pumps it right back in.

“Years, Samantha—years.”

That’s all he says, but I get it. Years for me too, Ian.

I find his mouth and we kiss again, and there’s less frenzy now and more heat. We linger and lick as he pushes a second finger inside me.

He works me up with his hand, pumping and speeding up his seduction until my nails bite into his shoulders. There’s no rush, no spot left untouched.

Foreplay turns into a little more.

My thighs are shaking.

I’m holding my breath.

This poor bathroom is so fogged and hot they’ll have to demolish it when we’re done, but the angle is just right. The counter’s height means Ian is in the perfect position after he rolls on a condom. He asks me twice if I’m sure I don’t want to move to the bed, and I respond by pushing my knees apart just a teensy bit wider. My butt is right on the edge. My breasts ache to be touched and he doesn’t neglect them when he slides into me inch by inch. His mouth is there, sucking, and my mouth is on his neck, kissing and whispering words of encouragement.

I wince just barely as he settles himself deep inside me. I need time to adjust. I knew there would be some…accommodating to do.

“Sam? Are you with me?” he asks, brushing my hair away from my face and tilting me just enough so our lips can meet easily.

I nod and he drags out then slides back in. His hips roll and I clench to let him know I like it. A smirk unrolls on my lips at how blissfully amazing this feels.