Page 17 of On His Knees
His eyes drop, latch on to my breasts as I slide my hand around my back and with agonizingly slow movements, unhook my bra. I let it fall into my lap, and his breathing changes. Intense blue eyes slowly lift to mine again, and my heart lurches. Good God, I’ve never seen a man look at me with such unchecked need, such ravaging hunger. He’s going to eat me alive—wreck me.
There’s nothing I want more.
I work to speak, to sound like I’m in a little more control than I actually am. “Like what you see?” I ask.
“You’re beautiful,” he says, and a little thrill goes through me. I like the way this man looks at me, like he’s going to worship every inch of my body as soon as he gets his hands on me.
“Your turn,” I say, and point to his pants, to the bulge pressing hard against his zipper, specifically.
He angles his head. “You want me naked, Summer?” he asks, his voice so deep and gravelly it’s almost unrecognizable.
“Yes, please...” I choose my words carefully, getting the sense he likes hearing please on my lips.
He pulls himself up to his full height, and I stare, mesmerized as he unhooks his pants and drags them, along with his boxers, down his legs, completely uninhibited. Not like he has a reason to have any hang-ups. The man is drop-dead gorgeous, in a suit, in jeans...especially naked.
“You were right, you know,” I say.
“About?” he asks, as he points at my pants, a gesture for me to get rid of them.
“There is no competition.” I wave my hand the length of him. “And I’m going to owe you more than a drink.”
He laughs at that, but it comes out a tortured groan when I stand, and slowly wiggle my pants down my legs, leaving only my lace thong in place.
“Jesus,” he murmurs.
“Something wrong, Tate?” I hook my fingers into the thin strap of my panties, and just move them around on my hips, a vicious tease, despite the fact that I’m so damn delirious with need, I can barely form a coherent thought.
“No, Summer, everything is just about right.”
He steps toward me, slides his hand around my back and drags me to him. His lips find mine again, and I taste the beer on his tongue when he slides it into my mouth. I whimper, sag against him and skate my hands over his hard body, palming all his sculpted muscles.
He grips my ass, kneads it with his fingers, then inches back. Without warning, he slowly slides his big hand inside the front of my soaked panties. He moves his fingers along my folds. Unable to help myself, I buck against him shamelessly.
“God, you’re so wet for me,” he murmurs.
“I’ve wanted you since I first set eyes on you,” I say honestly.
He sinks to his knees, drags me down with him, and then he takes his time to just look at me. Nearly naked and wide-open, I let him look his fill, never having been the object of a man’s affection quite like this before. A log in the fire snaps and it does something to him.
“I need my mouth on you,” he murmurs.
A second later, I’m on my back, and he’s on top of me, pressing me into the carpet as his scorching mouth goes to my marbled nipples.
He licks, nibbles, draws one into his mouth, sucking so hard little hollows form in his cheeks. He cups my other breast, then treats it to the same hot tongue massage.
“Yes, Tate, just like that,” I say, and rake my hands through his hair, holding him to me. “That feels incredible.” He moans, his cock like steel against my thigh. I move under him, tease and torment his erection as he eats at me. His breathing is labored, his breath falling over my naked flesh, turning me on even more.
I tug at him, wanting my mouth on his body, around his cock, but he has other ideas. He kisses a path down my center, and my skin tingles everywhere his mouth touches. The growth on his jaw abrades my flesh, and his fingers press into my hips. Tomorrow I’ll be bruised and chafed, a beautiful reminder of this one-night affair. He goes to his knees, grabs both of my legs and lifts them, until my feet are pointing at the high ceiling.
“Keep them there,” he commands in a soft voice, as he grips the lacy straps on my thong and pulls them up over my legs. He tosses them aside, and brings my legs back to the floor, spreading
them. His gaze latches on my sex, exposed and ready for him. The muscles along his jaw clench and his nostrils flare as he reaches out and lightly strokes me.
My body practically convulses at the first sweet touch. I move, writhe, trying to force his finger to where I need it the most.
“Such a needy girl,” he whispers, but from the way his muscles are bunching, it’s easy to tell he’s still hanging on by that thread, one I’m ready to break.
“How could I not be?” I murmur. “Have you seen yourself?”