Tough Enough (Tall, Dark, and Dangerous, #2)(48)

I rub my palm in circles over her hip and then back down her leg, making a wide path that travels from the outside of her hip to her knee and then back up the inside of her thigh, stopping just short of my goal. With each pass, I draw closer and closer to her center. I’m watching her closely, but she doesn’t seem to even notice. So I go bold.

Starting at her knee, I run my fingertips up her leg, not stopping this time. I feel the narrow patch of short hair tickle my knuckles as I push my hand down between her thighs. They fall open just enough to give me access. I slide a finger into her crease, only to find that her * is hot and wet. Like really wet. ShitDamnHell.

I pause, closing my eyes and letting my head drop back as I find the satiny bump of her moist clit. Every kind of curse is running through my head on a string, followed closely by reprimands for not bringing a damn box of condoms.

I straighten and open my eyes to look at Katie. She’s still facing the television, but her fingers, full of popcorn, are poised right in front of her mouth, which is partially open. I can see the rapid rise and fall of her chest, much faster than it was a minute ago. She might not be watching me, but she’s sure as hell paying attention.

Her eyes slide to mine when I start to move my finger, so I stop. “Don’t mind me. Just watch your show.”

I clamp my lips together to keep from grinning as I watch her try to eat those few kernels of popcorn as though nothing is happening inside her body. She chews and then pauses, chews and then pauses. Finally, she gives up the act of eating, her hand falling limply into the big bowl. Her lips are still parted and I can see that her brow is wrinkled.

I move my finger a little faster, periodically sliding it down to tease her entrance and then back up again to resume my torture. Katie’s other hand is fisted in the material of the blanket, her knuckles white as she tries to act casual.

I feel the subtle movement of her hips as she starts to gyrate against my hand. I don’t increase my pace. I just continue to wind her up, fascinated by the play of emotions she’s trying to hide.

She glances my way again and I nod toward the television. “Better watch. It’s almost time for a commercial.”

Reluctantly, she turns her head away from me again, little mewling sounds beginning to rumble in her throat. I don’t even try to hold back my smile this time. I’ve never had so much fun watching zombies.

I tease and rub, pinch and flick until Katie is stiff as a board on my lap. I hold her right at the edge until the moment the next commercial comes on. The instant that it does, I whisper in her ear, “I’m gonna make you come in my mouth.”

Before she can respond, I fling Katie’s blanket off, spin her around to face me and then urge her to her feet. I palm one knee and set it on the back of the couch by my ear, spreading her wide. Then I lean in and bury my mouth against her slick folds.

She moans so loud and the taste of her is so sweet I think for a second that I might lose my shit right inside my jeans, like some horny teenage boy. Every little sound, every harsh pant is like a cattle prod to my balls, spurring me on. She threads her fingers into my hair for support and I dig my fingers into her ass, holding her * right against my face.

With determination, I lick and suck her all the way over the edge. She rides my face, my lips, my tongue like my cock is deep inside her. And when she comes, I have to support her ass so she doesn’t fall backward.

She pours into my mouth and I lap it up. Honey. Pure, sweet honey. And when she’s done, I hold her tight and thrust my tongue as far as I can into her, greedy for more. “God, your body . . .” I mutter, my lips moving over hers until she goes completely limp in my arms and slithers back down into my lap like a limp noodle.

Her head hits my shoulder with an audible thump and I cuddle her close, covering with the discarded blanket what I see now is her totally naked body. When she regains her breath, she tips her beautiful face up to mine, big blue eyes pulling me in like a life preserver to a drowning man.

I expect her to say something, something . . . profound maybe. What I get is not profound. It’s even better.

“That’s the best episode I think I’ve ever seen.” I throw my head back and laugh. “Even though I have no idea what happened after you came into the living room.”

Her grin is sheepish. My ego is happy. This time, I don’t even try to resist the urge to kiss her.

This might be the best morning I’ve had so far.





TWENTY-THREE


Katie

Rogan suggested a picnic in the park with Dozer. He said I had promised to help him with his lines and he was holding me to it. As he spreads out a plaid wool blanket, I smile thinking of it, stroking Dozer’s head as I watch Rogan’s lithe body move this way and that until the little oasis in the shade is perfectly smooth.

When he straightens and brushes grass off his hands, he grins up at me. “How’s this for a place to rehearse?”

I sigh loudly. “I guess it’ll do. I mean, if I have to rough it,” I add, sniffing theatrically.

“Well, if this isn’t to your liking, I feel sure I can think of something more . . . comfortable for you to sit on later.”

I feel heat sting my cheeks and all the play drains right out of me, flushed away by the surge of desire.

“What, no smart-ass retort?” he teases, stretching out on his side and patting the blanket next to him.