Page 59 of From London, With Love

Carter, shirtless, deserves a place among the natural wonders of the world. He’s divine. I trace each abdominal muscle with my gaze, transfixed by the way they ripple with each breath he takes. His chest is unbelievably broad, smatterings of dark hair spread across the surface. Snake-like veins run across his shoulders and into his biceps, weaving down through to his hands. I don’t think I’ve ever seen a sight like this.

“Now it’s my turn to talk.” His voice breaks the trance his bare upper body put me under. Carter leans down and rests his weight on an elbow beside my head, his free hand moving to cup my jaw. “There are four words I need you to remember, love,” he murmurs against my cheek, his lips caressing my skin ever so softly, only breaking contact as he speaks. “Harder.”Kiss. “Softer.”Kiss.“Faster.”Kiss. “Slower.”Kiss.

“Now, repeat them back to me.” I’m trembling as he speaks again, the words reverberating through me. He pauses the course he’s taking down my body, lifting his head to look me in the eyes, and I’ve somehow lost the ability to speak.

“Lara.” My name comes out in a deep gravel that, mixed with the intensity of Carter’s gaze, has the trembling derailing into near internal combustion.?

“Yes?”

“Repeat. The. Words.” Each word is punctuated with a nearly undetectable nip to the sensitive skin at the juncture ofmy neck and shoulder. The whisper of contact leaves me wanting to scream for more.

I’m given a moment to order my thoughts when Carter grips the hem of my blouse, dragging it up and over my head. His eyes flare when they lock onto the matching black brassiere, which he swiftly removes.?

Steeling myself, I recount the words one by one. With each word out of my mouth, Carter continues his descent, kissing and caressing his way down my stomach and upper thighs. He purposely avoids my chest, the lack of attention making my breasts ache.

“Good girl,” Carter breathes, breaking contact with my skin and leaving a cool chill in his wake. I want to whimper at the loss of heat, but I stop myself. “Keep going.”

“S-slower,” I say breathily as Carter reaches the apex of my thighs. I look down at him, our eyes connecting. Without a word, his tongue darts out, swiping directly over my clit. Something between a gasp and a moan makes its way out of my throat at the contact. He’s somehow both demanding and tender at the same time. It draws me up off the mattress as if his touch is a call I can’t help but answer.

The movement only spurs Carter on, and I suck in a sharp Breath as he draws me into his mouth, tugging. He lets out a carnal, primitive sound as he releases my clit and runs his tongue from one end to the other. It sends a deep vibration through each and every nerve in my body.?

“Enjoying yourself?” Carter mumbles against my skin, and my eyelids flutter in response. Carter pops his head up, smirking at me. He’s far too smug for his own good.?

“You’re doing an adequate job.” That ought to knock him down a peg or two.

“I beg your pardon?”

“I said you’re doing an adequate job.”

“I heard you quite clearly the first time, you little deviant.” Carter rises onto his knees and sits painfully still. His hands now rest flat atop his thighs, and I’m left spread out beneath him and missing his touch. The way he unhurriedly takes in every inch of me has my skin burning up. I’m not used to this sort of attention, but I think I kind of love it.

“What has me begging your pardon is your use of the wordadequate.” The last word comes out at a higher pitch, almost in questioning. “I’m used to being called many things love, but adequate isn’t one of them.”

Carter begins stroking my thighs with his fingertips, up and down the inside of them at a leisurely pace. It takes every ounce of self-control I have to keep my cool despite having the strongest urge to sit up, glide my fingers into his hair and drag his face down between my legs.

He’s skilled, and he knows it. I’ve never experienced the sort of pleasure his tongue was providing, and I find myself craving it already. Either I’ve slept with amateurs, or Carter is the human form of “practice makes perfect”. I don’t think I want to know which statement is true.

Carter continues his lazy strokes as he gazes down at me.

“There’s a first time for everything.”

Head tipping back, Carter lets out a cold laugh. “God, what I wouldn’t give to see you attempt this mouthiness with my dick down your throat.”

“You keep making these threats with no follow-through, Carter. Go on, do it.”

“Mark my words, I will. But right now is about you, and another first. I’m going to resume feasting on you, and I won’t stop until you’re coming apart beneath me, my name the only word leaving your lips.”

Fuck. Me.?

Carter has an incredibly dirty mouth, which is relativelyuncharted territory for me. Most of the guys I’ve slept with have been rather quiet, probably focused more on trying to achieve the unachievable rather than talking. But when it comes to Carter, the man can multitask.

If my pussy had a voice box, she’d be squealing right now. Or shouting expletives like her life depended on it. My inner walls clench at his words, and I fist the sheets beneath me.

Carter’s eyes drop from my face to my waiting pussy, becoming hooded instantly. I watch with bated breath as he swipes two fingers through my slit, revelling at the sight of my wetness coating them.

“Fuck Lara, you’re soaked. It seems my words are far more thanadequateif this is anything to go by.” A wicked grin plays on his lips, and I groan, angry at the way my body has betrayed me.?

Carter leans his top half over my body, coming face to face with me. The feeling of his breath on my lips has a shiver rolling through me. His dick twitches against me beneath his trousers, and I’m reminded of the fact I’m completely naked whilst he remains entirely clothed where it counts most. Why is that so hot? It definitely shouldn’t be.

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