Page 143 of Lady Killer

His kiss was surprisingly soft and teasing.

He started gently.

Nixon’s lips pressed to mine lightly before he began peppering me with teasing, playful kisses that had me chasing him for more. Between the mountain of pillows and sheets beneath me and the man above, I was nearly surrounded by the scent of cinnamon and cloves, and I realized that this must be his bed.

His leg swung over me, bringing him to straddle me, just like Michael had.

It should have triggered me, frightened me.

But all I could think about was Nixon’s increasingly urgent kisses, begging me to open to him.

So, I did.

His tongue pressed into my mouth, and his hands slid up my jaw and into my hair, gently massaging my scalp. I melted beneath him as he kept his weight on his elbows, surrounding me without overwhelming me.

He never stopped kissing me.

Over and over again. As if his lips might never tire of seeking mine. It was both delicious and cloying.

Shifting farther up the bed, I brought my legs out from under him, hooking them around his waist.

My leggings were missing, and my underwear was already soaked as I rubbed up against him. A deep, rumbling moan came from Nixon.

His kisses grew wilder as he began to alternate between diving his tongue into my mouth and nipping at my lips.

My shirt rode up, and I was frustrated to realize that my bra was still on. Nixon’s hands were threaded through my hair, so I reached to take it off myself. The freedom brought me some relief, but I needed to feel more of him. I needed to feel every inch of his skin on mine.

My hands wove under Nixon’s shirt, connecting with the ridges of his abs. I traced a finger down the center of him, rewarded by his cock jumping at my touch. I beganto tug on his shirt until he got the message, disentangling one hand to work with me to pull it up and over his head, his mouth barely leaving mine.

And then his skin was on mine, sending ripples of warm pleasure through me. My nipples rubbed on him as I ground up and down against him from below.

Still, I needed more.

Releasing my hold on him with my legs, I dragged my nails slowly down the muscled panes of his back until I found the waist of his jeans. Following it to the front, I began to fumble them open.

As soon as I had the zipper undone, my hand slipped into his silky briefs to grip his cock. He was hard, hot, and velvety, and I squeezed him hard in my hand, finding a familiar piercing at the base of his shaft.

I groaned.

Using one hand to push his pants down, poorly, I worked his cock in my other. Rubbing my thumb across the head that I had learned was so sensitive, I smeared the bead of precum that had gathered there.

Nixon worked to help me pull his pants down, moaning into my mouth as he rolled from side to side, shucking them off, his briefs following next.

Still, he kissed me fervently.

With every taste, every bite, he seemed to only want more of me, and I ached inside to oblige him.

Wrapping my legs back around him, I was only separated from him by the thin, soaking-wet sliver of my underwear. I could feel the ridge of his head through the flimsy layer as I worked myself up and down him, riding him from beneath, from my clit to my entrance, where I would hold him in place, torturing both of us.

All it would take would be to push my underwear to the side, and he would be there. Perfectly positioned to thrust inside me.

I hurt. Inside and out.

The void inside me ached, and I needed Nixon to fill it.

Rough finger pads ran under the elastic of my underwear, asking a silent question. I whimpered and rocked harder into him.

Nixon slowly peeled the fabric off me. I kissed him deeper, and his hands slid under me, tugging my underwear free to slide them down my legs.

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