Sinful Love (Sinful Nights #4)(43)
She nodded. “We are making the most of it. Right now.”
Before he tumbled into the land of no return with her, before he gave her every part of his heart and soul, he cleared his throat, returning to simpler matters. “Are you ever going to tell me about the yogurt?”
She laughed, her head leaning back, her long elegant neck exposed. “She couldn’t pronounce yaourt, so it came out like tarte, and we gave her an apricot tarte. She seemed quite happy about that.” She picked up her chopsticks and grabbed a piece of sushi as the patrons at a nearby table raised their sake glasses in a toast to a new deal. So odd that a business dinner was transpiring at the same time that they were discussing love, fidelity, and possibilities.
And yogurt.
He laughed softly. “A tarte sounds better than yogurt.”
“My sister’s bakery makes the best apricot tartes. Come to Paris sometime and find out.”
He arched an eyebrow. “Come to Paris for a tarte?”
She jutted up a shoulder. “Or more.”
“Like what? What else should I have with the tarte?”
She set down her chopsticks, the sushi untouched, then tilted her head and murmured, “Me. You should have me.”
His blood heated, and his head swam with dirty thoughts. This meal seemed wholly unnecessary. He had no more interest in fish and rice. He could subsist on her, on this talking, these confessions, and these touches that promised what was to come.
He was ready to call for the check, but the waitress was nowhere to be seen. He glanced around, then tossed his napkin, stood up, and reached for her hand.
She rose, not even asking a single question. He led her past a table, around the corner, down the hallway. He knocked on the door of one of the restrooms. No one answered, so he turned the knob, pulled her inside, and locked the door.
“Michael,” she said, all sexy and low.
“Yes?”
“What are you going to do?”
He lifted her up and set her on the sink cabinet. “Have my dessert first. I want you so much. I’ve wanted you for so damn long, and now you’re here with me, and everything that comes out of your mouth makes me crave you even more.” His voice was rough and hungry as he ran his fingertip across her bottom lip.
Her breath rushed over him. “It does?”
“So much. So unbelievably much.” He dragged his finger down her neck. In its wake, goose bumps rose on her skin as he traveled along her throat, down her chest, between her breasts. He reached her waist, and squeezed her hip. Touching her was such a privilege, such a complete and utter gift. “Lift your dress. Let me see you.”
Trembling, she reached for the hem and lifted it, and all the air rushed from his lungs as he stared, just f*cking stared like a starving man at her beautiful, pink, wet *.
“So f*cking pretty.” He ran a finger through that slippery wetness. “I’ve wanted to taste you forever. I’ve wanted to have your sweetness on my mouth. Will you give it to me?”
“Please take it,” she said on a pant, arching her back, raising her hips.
He kneeled, pressed his hands on her thighs, and took his first taste. He groaned the second he touched her. She was heaven on his tongue.
She gasped and clutched his head, her fingers threading through his hair. He was intoxicated—utterly f*cking buzzed on her. His mind turned hazy with pleasure and possibility, with the sheer magnitude of this sensual dream becoming his visceral reality at last. She was better than all his fantasies. She was real, and wet, and hot, and she wanted him as much as he wanted her.
His bones hummed, and his mind ignited as he flicked his tongue against the soft rise of her clit. She moaned, a long, delicious sound that seemed to vibrate through her whole body. He kissed her * deeply and then drew her swollen clit into his mouth, sucking it between his lips. She bucked against him, seeking more, and he gave it to her.
He gave her everything, and he was sure he’d never want this from anyone but her.
Ever.
*
His lips. His tongue. His hands gripping her thighs, holding her tight.
At once it was all too much and not enough. She felt like she was ready to fly to the moon, to launch into orbit, and she still wanted to ride higher, go farther. Everything was silvery as her body dissolved into his touch. He caressed her with his masterful tongue then sucked hard on her clit. In some kind of delicious harmony, she moved with him, rocking into him, hips shifting, keeping a sensual pace with him as he ate her out on the edge of the sink in the restroom.
The lights were low, a soft, blue glimmer against the black tiles on the wall, and somehow the glow fit. This was a decadently lit space for a deliciously dirty deed—sex in a restaurant bathroom. She didn’t care where they were. She hadn’t thought she would survive a minute longer without some kind of contact, and bless this man, he knew. He knew precisely how to meet her needs, and exactly how to lick, kiss, suck, and drive her wild. She felt untamed with him, on the edge of control, ready to let it all go. Her hands curled tighter around his head, her fingers laced through his hair. She looked down, and the sight of his face between her legs, devouring her, made her wetter, hotter.
She moaned his name, loved the way it felt on her tongue, the shape it took on her lips. Loved how he licked faster and hungrier each time she said it. They were like a feedback loop. His name fell from her mouth, and he consumed her. Like he was drinking her up. Like she was the only one he’d ever wanted.