Big Rock(34)

It’s then that I realize my palms are sweating.

Holy shit.

I’m nervous.

I’m f*cking nervous, and that is not acceptable. I do not get nervous before sex. I am a rock star in the sheets. I am all confidence, all skill, and all focused on the woman. Charlotte is not getting anything less than my A game. Hell, she’s getting nothing less than an A-plus game. I take a deep breath, letting it fill my chest. I straighten my shoulders and remind myself that this is what I excel at. This is my master class. I’m going to give Charlotte the most mind-blowing pleasure she has ever experienced in her life.

I walk over to the light switch, dim the overhead slightly, and when I turn around, Charlotte is in the living room, leaning against the wall.

She wears one of my white button-down shirts and nothing else that I can see.

I freeze.

I can’t breathe. I can’t blink. I can’t do anything but stare at her gorgeous figure. Her blonde hair curling over the front of my shirt. Her hands restless against the buttons, as if she’s unsure what to do with them. Her strong legs, all bare and beautiful. The edges of the shirt covering her. I don’t know if she still has on her panties, but I’m going to have a field day finding out.

Every atom inside me buzzes. I need to touch every part of her beautiful body. Kiss every inch of her skin. Lick her, taste her, f*ck her.

Please her.

“Are you trying to seduce me?” I ask as I walk over to her.

“Yes,” she whispers, her voice feathery. “Is it working?”

I nod. “But that’s not how this works.”

Enough of her setting the rules. Enough of her making decisions. This is my fiefdom. I rake my eyes over her from head to toe and watch her reaction. She breathes hard, and her eyes shine with desire. “What do you mean?”

“You’re not seducing me.” I brush the backs of my fingers along her cheek, taking the reins as she trembles into my touch. “I’m going to seduce you.”





CHAPTER SIXTEEN


With great power comes great responsibility.

It’s not classified intel that I’m well-endowed. Charlotte’s already figured that out, and she hasn’t even taken off my clothes yet. But here’s the secret to success when you possess a much-larger-than-average-size cock. You can’t just wave it around like a big bat. You’ve got to treat it like a baseball manager does a closer. A cock with firepower is your secret weapon, and it’s worth its weight in gold if you know what to do with the rest of the lineup. Meaning, the dick should never be the star of the show.

The woman’s name should be the one in lights, and you need to make her feel that way from start to finish. Warm her up right. Use all your tools—hands, fingers, mouth, tongue, words.

Fortunately, I am well-versed in all of the above, and I intend to show Charlotte all my skills.

First, words…

“I have a confession to make,” I say.

“Yes?”

“I know you were trying to prove we can still be friends when we were watching TV. But I wasn’t feeling very friendly toward you.”

“You weren’t?” she asks, the tiniest bit of worry in her eyes.

I shake my head. “I wasn’t feeling the least bit friendly when I was wondering what your lips taste like tonight,” I whisper, and the worry in her gaze turns to a spark of excitement. Her chest rises and falls, as if every breath is rich with anticipation of what’s coming next.

I hold her face in my hands, slant my mouth to hers, and kiss her.

Like a tease. A soft, slow, lingering tease that will do exactly what I promised her a kiss would do. I brush my lips over hers, tasting her, claiming her mouth, all before I slide my tongue between her red, eager lips.

I moan when her tongue darts out to meet mine.

This isn’t our first kiss, but it’s the first one that’s not going to stop at kissing. It’s a kiss that will go the distance.

Her breasts push against the fabric of my shirt, and soon, very soon, I’m going to meet them. I’m going to get thoroughly acquainted with her gorgeous tits, and then I’ll take my sweet time getting to know every inch of her body.

That’s the way I kiss her. As a promise of what’s to come.

Her.

Many times.

When I break the kiss, I run my thumb across her top lip, like I’m marking this territory as mine. She lets out the neediest little gasp.

“You taste like cherry candy, and tequila, and desire,” I tell her, as I lower my hand to her neck, dragging my fingers along the soft, tender skin of her throat. “And now that I’ve tasted you, I want to see the rest of you. I want to know what you look like naked. I’ve pictured it non-stop for days.”

“Get me naked then,” she says in a plea.

“Since you asked so nicely,” I say, letting my voice trail off as I slide the first shirt button out of the hole, then the next. I’m buzzing everywhere, knowing I’m not only going to see her breasts, but I’m going to touch them, feel them, kiss them. The anticipation has its own pulse, its own presence in my apartment here with us. I want to imprint this moment on my permanent memory. To never forget how it feels to take my shirt off Charlotte.

She runs her tongue over her lips. Her eyes blaze, and she trembles. She’s like a beautiful bird in a cage, wings fluttering, heart racing, dying to break free.