Lady Be Good (Wynette, Texas #2)(62)

She throbbed. She purred. She moaned her need into his mouth. “Kenny . . . please . . .”

He moved his lips to the tender spot just beneath her ear and dabbled there for a while. Her skin prickled, her toes curled. She realized she might very well melt all over the bedspread before he got to the good part. Lower!

Oh, why wouldn’t he hurry? Obviously, he needed a little prodding on her part, so she mustered her concentration and reached between them for the snap on his slacks.

He immediately rolled over on top of her and used his mouth to investigate the throbbing pulse at the base of her throat.

Her breasts! Why wouldn’t he touch her breasts? She wanted to plead with him, then realized she was too weak to speak.

He found an unbelievably sensitive spot on her collarbone, and she moaned against the top of his head. His hand moved lower. Finally!

But her relief was short-lived as his thumb slipped beneath the sleeve of her robe, only to stop and dawdle at her wrist. Her wrist! It was maddening! He was supposed to be an experienced lover, but he didn’t seem to have even the vaguest notion how to find the sensitive parts of the female anatomy.

The skin along the underside of her arm quivered at his stroking, and tiny shock waves shot through her middle. But instead of taking advantage of her all-too-obvious arousal, he kept dawdling! How could she overcome his natural laziness? How could she point him in the proper direction?

She would simply have to be more forthright.





Chapter 13

“Kenny . . .” Emma’s blurred senses made it difficult to talk, but she concentrated on forming the words because honest communication between sex partners was vitally important, and he had to understand that she had needs!

“My robe . . .” She swallowed. “Take it off. Pull it off my . . .”

The tip of his tongue discovered a pulse point at the side of her neck, and she groaned. Long moments ticked by before she could once again collect her thoughts.

“No . . . not just there.” She moaned. “Touch me . . . my . . . Take off your clothes and touch my . . .”

He drew back and frowned at her. His mouth was as swollen as her own, and his passion-silvered eyes reminded her of sugar-glazed violets. “Is something wrong?”

She cupped his jaw, caught her breath, and smiled so he’d understand she wasn’t criticizing, merely providing some much-needed direction. “Could we move it along a bit?”

“Move . . . it . . . along?” Each word came out like a bullet.

“Uhm.”

“You want to move . . . it . . . along?”

“If you don’t mind.”

“Are you in a hurry or something?”

“Something.”

“Don’t tell me you’ve got a shed-yule for this, too?”

“Not a schedule. No, of course not. It’s just that I’m . . . well . . . I’m sure you’ll be pleased to know that I’m thoroughly aroused, and I believe we can move on to—well, to the next part. The good part.”

He arched one eyebrow. “This part isn’t good?”

She realized she’d offended, and she hurried to appease him. “Of course it’s good. It’s wonderful. Really, Kenny, you’re the most extraordinary kisser, but you’re a little slow and . . .” His expression was beginning to grow ominous. “I’m having a super time. Truly. But we’re done with that part now.” Her voice grew smaller. “Aren’t we?”

He rolled over onto his back and muttered, “I should have expected this. I don’t know why I’m even surprised.”

To her dismay, he pushed himself off the bed, only to stand right next to it pointing one finger in the general direction of her face. “Now you listen to me, Emma, because I’m only going to say this once. From now until both of us are wrung dry, I’m in charge. Do you hear me?”

“But—”

“And do you know why? Because I’m the expert, not you!”

Rebellion stirred in her heart. “I never said I was.”

“Then why are you giving orders?” He asked with exaggerated patience.

“I merely thought—”

“No more thinking!” His jaw set in a stubborn line, and he rested the heel of his hand against the bedpost. “Now, here’s the way it’ll be. The two of us are going to practice a little sexual kinkiness called domination and submission. I’m dominating and you’re submitting! Now, what that means, in case I’m not being clear, is that you can’t issue a single order. Not one. You can moan. Moaning’s fine. You can sigh. Sighing’s okay, too. But no orders. And only when I say we’re done can you talk. Then, just two words. Thank and you.”

She should have been insulted—she was insulted—but at the same time, an urge to laugh had come over her. He was so blissfully arrogant. And he was also right. Sometimes she was too bossy.

He continued to scowl. “Now, have I made myself clear, or do I need to find that clothesline you picked up at the drugstore last night?”

Just to be saucy, she waved one lazy hand toward the corner of the room where she’d set down the sack containing her purchases.

His eyes narrowed.

She regarded him primly. “I might as well get some use out of what I bought, and I’m certainly not going to need that moisturizer.”