The Kiss Quotient (The Kiss Quotient #1)(51)

He got down from the bed and unbuttoned and unzipped his fly. His muscles bunched and shifted, and the dragon tattoo winked at her as he stepped free of his pants with masculine grace. This was Michael in all of his naked glory. He was perfection. Even that part of him.

Oh God, especially that part of him. His erection stood at attention, thick and veined, in flawless proportion to the rest of his beautiful body. She’d just had the most intense orgasm of her life, but she wanted more. She wanted that. It made her mouth water, and she’d never given a man oral sex.

She couldn’t remember how to breathe as he kneeled on the bed and wrapped one of her hands around him. He was so hot, satiny soft, but rigid underneath. Want, want, want. In any way she could. In whatever way he liked.

“Stella, the look on your face.” His voice was hoarse, almost a groan. He guided her fist up and down his length, saying, “This is my cock. When you want it, when you need it, that’s the word I want you to use.”

Unable to speak, she nodded. Secret Stella loved the idea of demanding his . . . cock . . . and him providing it, though she didn’t think she’d ever be able to get that word past her lips. Not unless they were talking about farm animals. Probably not even then.

“Do you want to put it on me?” he asked, indicating the forgotten condom in her other hand.

She licked her lips and cleared her throat. “Yes.”

Her hands weren’t steady, so she and Michael ended up doing it together. When they finished, he pulled her close, and she shivered at the feel of their skin coming in contact. Her nipples grazed his chest, and his solid length burned against her lower belly. He swept his hands up and down her back as he angled his head, trying to catch her gaze.

“Why won’t you look at me?”

She trained her eyes on the notch at the base of his throat and hunched her shoulders forward. “I’m feeling very self-conscious.”

“We’re both naked.”

She didn’t know how to explain that it was on the inside that she was feeling naked. If he looked into her eyes, he’d see all of her, the person she kept hidden away. No one wanted to see that. This was supposed to be fun and educational, not soul-baring.

He tipped her chin back, and she caught a glimpse of tender eyes before she squeezed her own shut.

“Kiss me, please,” she said.

Warm lips took hers, tasting of her and him and sex. His hands grew urgent as he caressed her. He grabbed her thigh and hooked her leg around his hips, opening her to him. With a flex of his hips, he stroked over her sex. The friction sent blood pooling fast and hot.

“Now, Stella.”

She wrapped her arms around the barrel of his chest and pressed her lips to his neck. “I’m ready.”

He lowered her to the bed, and his body covered her. He nuzzled against her jaw and ear, pressed soft kisses to her cheek, the corner of her mouth, her lips. “You have to talk to me, okay? If something hurts, if you don’t like it, if you want something more, if it’s perfect. Say everything.”

Eyes still shut, she said, “I’ll . . . try.”

Unexpectedly, he flipped her around so she was on her hands and knees. “I think you’ll feel less self-conscious this way.”

She opened her eyes, taking in the rumpled pillows and wooden headboard. He was right. This was better. He couldn’t see her. She immediately relaxed. “Will it be good for you this way?” The other men had all preferred the missionary position.

“No, it’s going to be excellent.” Rough hands glided down her back and massaged her with voluptuous motions. His firm chest brushed against her shoulder blades as he propped an arm on the bed next to her. Reaching in front of her, he slid a hand up her inner thigh. He searched through her folds and sank his fingers deep, working her until her hips were rocking and fresh moisture drenched the both of them. Withdrawing, he teased her clitoris with gentle touches.

“Michael . . .”

“Stella,” he replied, breathing heavily in her ear.

Something hard prodded at the entrance of her body and pushed inside slowly. Stella stopped breathing. Sex had hurt in the past, but there was nothing now but a sensuous stretching that went on and on until Michael seated himself fully inside her. She tried to swallow, to talk. Couldn’t. They fit perfectly.

For long moments, Michael remained immobile. Sensing the tension in his body, she looked at him over her shoulder.

“Michael?”

His face was drawn as if in pain. “I’ve been wanting this too long. It’s too good. You feel . . .” He exhaled. “If I move, I’m going to lose it.”

She couldn’t stop herself from smiling. She wasn’t alone in this. “Move.” She arched her back and rocked against him. The motion pushed him in even deeper, filled her.

A raw groan escaped his throat. “Stella, I’m serious. Give me a moment to cool down. This is our first time. I want fireworks for you.”

Our first time. He made it sound like there would be lots of times. The thought made her so happy her heart wanted to burst. She didn’t need fireworks. She just needed him.

Wet kisses landed on her neck, interspersed with teasing nips and greedy licks. He traced the folds stretched tightly around him before sliding his slick fingertips higher. When he rubbed her there, she clenched on him and moaned.

Only then did he begin moving. He withdrew, thrust back into her, retreated, returned, picking up a driving rhythm. The twin assaults of his fingers and invading sex kindled flames beneath her skin that spread outward in widening rings.