Rogue (Real #4)(37)
“I think you’re a bastard. But you’re so sexy in this suit . . .” I whisper as I start working his belt off his slacks, straddling him so that if I wanted to, I could drop my hips and rub the most painful spot in my body against that big, delicious bulge on his lap. “And I want to f*ck you hard because you made me think you were better, you made me think you wanted me for more than this,” I add. “Asshole.”
He grabs his belt when I pull it free, tosses it aside with a clatter, and then moves like lightning, rolling me to my back, and whipping out my arms to pin them over my head. I gasp, and he smiles. “Caught you,” he rasps, sliding a hand down the inside of my arm. Starting to pant from the delicious weight of his body pressing down on mine, I wiggle my hand free, pull his shirt out of the waistband of his slacks, and start unbuttoning his shirt from the very bottom, hurrying to the top.
He releases my wrist and slowly pushes my dress up to my hips. “You have a filthy mouth, Melanie. Did you know that I can fill it with come, just like that, so the next sound you make is that of you swallowing?”
“Maybe the next sound is you yelling when I bite the head of your thick pink cock,” I breathe and my thoughts scatter when he growls, “Shut up now,” and kisses me. Hard and deliciously.
The actual next sound in the room is nothing but wet, slippery tongues meshing, rasping of fabric as he pulls my dress higher. I melt beneath his mouth, hot and powerful and more ravenous than any mouth that’s ever fitted itself to mine . . . and it truly feels like all we’ve said means nothing, that this means everything.
His scent fills me like a warmth curling in my tummy as he hikes my skirt up to my waist to expose my lacy black thong. The air caresses my bare ass cheeks, and the next second, he’s palming them in his warm hands.
“Are you happy to see me now, Melanie?” he murmurs, his voice low and textured as he uses my ass to draw me flat up against him.
I whimper, I’m so turned on. “Not yet,” I lie.
He brushes his lips across mine, teasing me. “You sure?”
Once again, his lips make a pass over mine, warm, velvety.
My blood feels thick and hot in my veins. Suddenly I can’t think of anything that I want more than this one, one kiss. But I can never let a man like him know it or he’ll break me.
“I’m sure,” I lie again, holding on to the back of his strong neck as I flick my tongue out to run it along the seam of his lips.
That lick proves to be our undoing.
He groans and comes out to play with my tongue with his, his lips closing over mine at the most perfect angle. A shudder runs through us both. It even feels like we groan at the same time, our kiss degrading from slow and sensual to fast and raw. I unbutton the rest of his shirt, my hands trembling from the rush. He grabs the top of my strapless dress and yanks it down to my waist, exposing every part of my body except for where the silk of my dress circles my hips.
When he edges back to look at my not-so-large breasts, but my rather outspoken nipples, I’m almost drowning with a sudden shyness.
It doesn’t last long, for he cups the mounds, as if he were holding diamonds in his hands, paying extra attention to the beaded, hard little points at the tip. His thumbs pay extra attention to them, rubbing, stroking.
“You might not be happy yet,” he rasps in my ear, “but these little beauties are thrilled to see me. Thrilled . . . to see me.” When he sucks one into his mouth, an exquisite pleasure curls my toes. My head falls back into his pillow as I moan, low in my throat. He rocks his hips to tease me with his erection. I’m teased, tortured, consumed, throbbing. I shudder and start rocking up to him too. God, he’s going to torture me and I know it.
He tugs my dress over my head, then his hands explore my thighs and move onto my taut stomach, then up to tweak my nipples. My * burns and clutches as I slide my fingers through the parting of his shirt, running my hands up his warm, sculpted chest.
I stroke his scar, then use my thumb and forefinger to tug on his nipple ring. His body contracts with pleasure and I see it. I see how he responds to my touch, so I greedily run my hands up and down his chest, every possible muscle in existence bulging under my fingers.
“You like that?” I whisper.
I don’t even let him answer because my mouth blends into his again as I push him around and straddle him. Lowering my body, I can feel his erection settled perfectly between my legs, straining hot and large against his zipper. God. Edging his shirt aside, I bend over and start licking his piercing, shivering when he slides the tips of his fingers into the elastic of my G string . . . dipping into the lace V.
“Come here, you hot little thing you,” he murmurs as he holds the back of my head and forces my lips to come over his again. The moment his mouth is on mine, his finger is in me. My sex clenches as a moan escapes me and I rock my hips, needing the friction of his hardness against my clit as he rubs his finger in me.
He thrusts back like he needs the contact too while the scar on the center of his palm rasps over my nipples as he cups one. “Juicy cunt, juicy tits, juicy blonde princess.”
When he licks one nipple, I arch and throw my head back, gasping in sweet agony. I grind my hips instinctively, wanting more, craving more as we both strain to get closer. He bites and sucks me, then shoves his tongue against the tip of my nipple, making it poke back. I run my hands over his hair, then try to shove his shirt off his massively muscular shoulders.