Page 116 of Stealth Mission
I honestly gape when Evan jerks his shirt over his head and throws it on the floor.Okay. “I need a time out right here to enjoy the view.”
He’s ripped. Shoulders. Chest. Abs. Even has the muscular vee thing that points down into his shorts.
“Wow, stud…”
“Marianna, I gave you an order.”
I laugh at him. “Since when do you get to?—”
He crawls on the bed, pressing my knees wide as he lowers his body to me. “Since you drove me wild and came all over my tongue.”
“Oh. That.”
With a rough sound, he bites my neck, making me squeal.
“I’m not responsible if your dress gets ripped this time. By the way, I still owe you one because I tore the strap of the other one in the car.”
A thrill races through me at the idea of those big, capable hands ripping my clothing off.
“Rip away. I’m going to be too busy touching all these muscles.”
He kisses me hungrily as I explore his arms, his shoulders and his back, dipping my fingers into the little valley along his spine.
I love the way he feels. Hot as the sun. Velvety smooth. Hard angles and big contours. A work of art.
His next command comes in a husky rasp. “Pull me out.”
Who am I to argue?
I mean this is for my pleasure too.
He rears up on one hand, moves his other to my breast where he thumbs at my nipple as I work on his zipper.
I fail to hide the moan he causes as I push his boxer briefs down, revealing the swollen crown of his very large cock.
News flash. I’ve never gone down on a man either.
The size is… intimidating.
My throat spasms just looking at it. The thing is thick and covered with veins and long enough that my two hands stacked on top of each other don’t cover the whole length.
That’s supposed to go all the way down where?
Gulp. I’m scared boneless and thrilled all at once. When I work up my nerve, I lick my lips and lean forward until he stops me by gripping my shoulder.
Confused, I look up at him. “Don’t I get to taste you?”
“Later. I have other plans right now.”
“Oh? Not this?” I raise my gaze to his face as I stroke him from hilt to head.
The tension scoring his brow is beautiful. I get a little thrill knowing I caused him to be so wrecked.
“Not that.” It’s a throaty, hoarse reply.
He pushes my hand away. Grabs my bodice roughly with both his hands. With a loud rip, the fabric tears from neck to waist. He finishes with a satisfied growl.
A rush of cool air hits my fevered skin.