Page 70 of One Bossy Date

When I glanced up, her eyes were wide and her breathing heavy, staring down at my dick again.

She reached forward and wrapped her fingers around it.

“Fuck,” I growled out, and my breathing picked up.

“It’s so…thick.” She squeezed her fingers. “And long.” She ran them up the length of it. “Andgirthy.”

“Christ, Zoe.” I sat up, leaning on one arm while the other pulled her face to mine, kissing her hungrily. She moved down my body.

The moment her lips wrapped around me, I sucked in a breath. “Oh, fuck. Yes.”

She continued sucking me, creating a monster out of me with each stroke.

I wanted to fuck her senseless.

And I would.

26

ZOE

“Please,” I muttered hoarsely, “can we finally…”

“Fuck?”

“Yes, we can. And we will,” he murmured. “But not yet. I’m going to take my fucking time.”

Minutes became hours.

It had been months since I’d last had my legs hooked around the shoulders of a man. Months since I’d felt a man’s mouth on my center. Months since a man’s tongue had done things to me that should have been illegal. Months since I’d gripped the sheets below me in ecstasy, moaning and groaning and whimpering his name. My heart pounded harder than it had in the last couple of years.

My mind was blissfully blank. The only discernible thought was about the man currently ravaging me with his mouth, his hands clutching at my thighs, probably leaving finger-shaped bruises in their wake. He made shapes and spelled words with the tip of his tongue, skillful and energetic.

On second thought, I wasn’t sure any man had ever made me feel like this. Sure, I’d had wonderful lovers. Men that had paid attention to my needs, and to whom I’d returned the favor. Men that had whispered my name against my skin, sending tingles up my body. Men that had made love to me like I was the only woman in existence.

But this was different.

I could come up with a thousand ways to describe the way he was making me feel, but the best I could think of was just a single word: alive.

A man in my bed. A man between my legs. A man who knew how to use every appendage on his body with a skill that I’d never experienced before, with any past lover. A man whose eyes were filled with pure, unadulterated passion and fire that made me feel as if I were awash in hot lava.

My hips shook as he changed direction with his tongue against my clit, causing me to emit a noise that was halfway between a laugh and a sob. I moaned, as I reached for the metal bars of the headboard. “Right there…oh…don’t stop.”

His stubble scratched me as he rested his chin against my lower belly and shook his head.

“No, no, no,” he growled, in that deep, dreamy voice of his. “You’re not in charge here, baby. I am in charge here. And you come when I say you do. Understand?”

“Yes,” I sobbed, despite myself.

I wanted to beg for him to lick me in that place again. To make me come so hard that I couldn’t see, or remember my own name. I wanted ecstasy and fire and electricity. I wanted everything. But I stayed silent. There definitely was a glint in his eyes that told me I wouldn’t get what I wanted by asking for it.

Because Anders already knew what I wanted.

And it was up to him to decide when I got it. I bit my lip, trying desperately to keep quiet, to wait him out, to not rush him. But my hips continued to roll, looking for some kind of friction. I couldn’t control them.

Anders pressed his arm down over my waist, keeping me anchored to the bed. My hips continued to wriggle against him, but his grip was firm, keeping me down and obedient.

“Wait for it,” he husked, his lips pressed to the inside of my thigh and then back between my legs. There, he finally opened his mouth against my mound. I was thankful that, despite not having been with a man in ages, I’d kept up my shaving routine. Even though I could’ve done a better job. But he either didn’t notice or didn’t care about a few missed spots—he seemed to take no notice of it, either way.