The Kiss Quotient(48)

“Good morning.” His voice was a husky rasp that sent shivers down her spine.

“G-good mor—” A hand dipped inside her bra and cupped her breast. He stroked the tip until it ached and pinched, sending a burst of sensation straight to her core. When he headed downward, smoothing a hand over her belly, her stomach muscles clenched.

“I want to touch you here.” He palmed her sex with a bold grasp, and the heat of his touch spread through the cotton of her panties, searing her.

She gripped his wrist, fully intending to pull him away, but her hands refused to cooperate. His forearm was firm with defined muscle, his skin smooth, utterly distracting.

“Is that permission?” he whispered.

She’d given him permission last night. She wanted this, but she didn’t know how to handle this side of herself. Her body told her to say yes. Her mind told her to say no.

Her body won the fight, and her hips arched against his hand. He edged the crotch of her panties aside. He kissed her nape as he traced the slick entrance to her body with his fingertips. A sharp breath tore from her lungs. Panic and pleasure collided.

“You’re wet already, Stella. You’re like a Lamborghini. Zero to sixty in two point seven seconds.”

“You like Lamborghinis?” She tried desperately to cling to coherent thought. She needed to think at all times, to weigh her actions and her words. When she let go, she always made mistakes. She did the wrong thing, hurt people, mortified herself.

He continued touching her lightly, trailing around and around her opening in maddening circles. His teeth scraped against her neck before he licked and kissed her. Goose bumps spread over her skin.

“Yes, I like them. No, don’t get me one,” he said.

“Why not?” She rubbed her feet against his shins, dug her fingernails into his arm. Push him away. Pull him closer. Regain control. Let go.

“It doesn’t suit my lifestyle, and my mom would be very, very curious how I got it.” He emphasized the word very with barely there strokes over her clitoris. Her sex spasmed and trembled at the edge of release.

He bit her earlobe. “You’re about to go off, aren’t you? That’s all it took.”

“It’s because I’ve been fantasizing about you ever since last Friday.” Oh God, what had she just said?

He removed his touch and sat up. His expression was soft as he brushed tendrils of hair away from her face. “What does Fantasy Michael do?”

“Everything.”

He laughed before his eyes went intense. “Does he make you come with his mouth? Real Michael wants to do that.”

She squirmed as the need to please him warred with her inhibitions. That was one thing Fantasy Michael hadn’t done. “I’m more interested in giving oral sex than receiving it.”

“Maybe we should work on it,” he said in an unusually subdued tone. “I’m not the only guy who loves going down on women.”

She sank her teeth into her lip and fisted the sheets. Women. Plural. For a regular man, that meant anywhere from one to ten, maybe twenty. For Michael . . . hundreds. It might even be thousands, for all she knew. A new type of anxiety weighed down on her. Could she possibly measure up against all of his past clients?

“I don’t want to disgust you.”

“You won’t.”

“How do I make it good for you? Are some women better at receiving oral sex than others? What do they do?” She badly wanted to be good at it. She wanted to blow all the others out of the water—but there had been so many of them.

“What is going on in that beautiful brain of yours?” he asked in bafflement.

“I just—I want—I need—I think—”

“No more thinking,” he said as he touched a thumb to her lips.

He ran warm hands from her shoulders down to her wrists, interlaced their fingers and squeezed their palms together. Her muscles tensed as she worried she wasn’t responding the right way. What was she supposed to do? Now that she understood he wanted her to feel pleasure, she wanted to give it to him, wanted to make him happy.

“Stella, you’re locking up on me.” His eyes searched hers, worried now.

“I’m sorry.” She felt the sweat between their hands and fingers and winced. Her heart pounded. She was screwing this up.

He gathered her in his arms and held her, smoothing a hand through her hair in slow sweeps. “This is because of oral sex? We don’t have to have it.”

Stella pressed her forehead to his neck and breathed in his scent. By slow degrees, she relaxed into his embrace. “I’m very competitive.”

He brushed a kiss against her temple. “Okay, but how does that factor into anything?”

“It means I want to please you more than all your other clients have.”

“Stella, I’m the one who’s being paid to please here.”

“I’m not paying you for sex anymore, remember?”

He made a frustrated growling sound and held her tighter. “What am I going to do with you? I have you hot and naked in my arms, and you’re still not ready.”

She sighed and rested against him. She idly traced the dragon scales on his bicep. “We could floss, brush, shower, and dress.”

He threw the covers off. “Let’s do it, then.”