Page 80 of Strictly Pretend

“What I’m about to do to you now.”

“Then I’m glad you didn’t,” I say. And for a moment he looks uncertain. “Because I like it now. Here. It’s how it’s supposed to be.”

His gaze flickers to mine and then he pulls my bikini top off, exposing my breasts to the cool airconditioned room. His eyes are wide, needy. I love how he looks at them. At me.

Like I’m a work of art he’s desperate to own.

“You have the most beautiful body I’ve ever seen,” he says roughly, cupping the swell of my breasts with his warm palms. My nipples are so hard it’s almost painful. Then he brushes them gently with the pads of his thumbs and it makes me arch my back for more.

“Please,” I whisper.

“Please what?” He barely touches them again. So I push my chest harder against him.

“Are you going to make me beg?”

He gently kisses my lips and I swear this one is even hotter than the last. “I want you to tell me what you want. I want to give it all to you but you have to tell me.”

“I want your mouth on me,” I tell him. “I want to feel your tongue against my nipples. I want your teeth scraping against them.”

His gaze is warm. “Everything,” he tells me, echoing my words earlier. “You get everything. You just have to ask.”

Oh this man is a giver. And I don’t think I’ve heard anything more erotic in my life. Maybe because I’m a giver too.

“Take your pants off and kiss my breasts.”

His smile is wider. “Gladly.” He unbuckles his belt, his fingers deft as he slides the pants down his thick, muscled thighs, kicking them off until he’s only wearing a pair of dark shorts, the thickness of his erection outlined at the front.

Before I can reach for him he lifts me up and throws me onto the bed, then crawls over me, his eyes on mine before dipping his head to my chest.

And… oh…. God. His mouth is everything. It’s warm and teasing. He sucks and licks and bites my nipple, his other hand playing with my other breast, like he’s a man who likes to be fair. I tangle my fingers in his hair, my nails scraping his scalp as he continues to suck with the right amount of pressure to send jolts of electricity into my core.

I start to roll my hips, need making me seek out pressure against the achiest part of me. I find his thigh, so I start to grind against it, as he moves to my other breast, his lips soft, his tongue insistent, his teeth gentle as they scrape against me.

“Brooks.”

He looks up. He looks almost dazed. Like my breasts have hypnotized him.

“I need…”

“What do you need.”

I take a deep breath. “I need to touch you.”

The smile he gives me is so unexpectedly dazzling it makes my heart ache. And I take it as a yes, sliding my hands down his rock hard stomach, my fingers teasing the waistband of his shorts before I push them down, feeling the tautness of his skin, before I curl my hands around him.

Oh, he’s big. And so hard that he feels like perfection in my hand. I give him a pump and he lets out a groan, then starts to kiss my breasts again.

I’m not sure I ever want him to stop. But he does and I let out a complaining sigh before he pulls out of my grasp, myhand feeling empty, and moves down my body until his mouth is pressed against my stomach.

His hands pull my thighs apart, before he pulls at the strings on my hips, until the bows unfasten and the little triangle at the front and back are useless at covering me up.

“I fucking love this bikini,” he tells me.

He looks up, his gaze catching mine. I nod and he smiles.

Then the smile dissolves as he takes a long look at my body. Naked and exposed to him. He kisses the soft skin of my inner thigh, then the other, before kissing my hips.

I slide my fingers into his hair again. I love how silky and thick it is. I love the way he groans when I scrape my fingers against his scalp.

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