Page 113 of Bottles & Blades

Then again when I feel a flash of teeth.

But I groan, hand diving into her hair to hold her against me, when she kisses her way over to my nipple and sucks deeply.

She spends a lot of time there, slow at first and then with more confidence, with moreintention.

To slowly drive me insane it seems as she makes her way across my chest to torment the other one…

And then, eventually, drifting down along my stomach.

Only, when she goes to flick open the button of my jeans, I capture her hand. “No, baby,” I say gently, pressing a kiss to her palm. “That’s okay.”

“Jean-Mi.”

I look up at her, see those pretty brown eyes blazing into mine, and God, what I wouldn’t give to flip her over, tear those jeans from her legs and plunge into her deep and fast. But she’s a virgin. She needs care, not a quick fuck in the dirt. And she doesn’t need to get me off. This is about her exploring,herpleasure. “You don’t need to worry about me, buttercup,” I say. “We have plenty of time.”

“Jean-Mi,” she says again.

I start to sit up, but she pushes me back down.

“Honey, listen to me now please, yeah?”

Like I can deny her that, can deny her anything. “Okay, baby.”

“Iwantto touch you,” she whispers, those cheeks going pink.

“You are?—”

Her finger presses to my lips. “Listen.”

I shut up.

“I want to touch you like you’ve touched me,” she murmurs, pink turning to red. “I want to feel you come apart. I want to give you pleasure like you’ve given me.”

“Baby, I don’t need?—”

She bends, slants her lips over mine for a short, hot kiss then whispers, “Let me, honey.Pleaselet me.”

This isn’t my plan.

But I’m also not a good enough man to keep resisting her.

Not with her pressed against me, not with her mouth on mine, not with her hand sliding down between us again, going back to the waistband of my jeans, working that button open, dragging the zipper down.

Not with her fingers yanking at the material, freeing my cock, and wrapping around me.

I groan and she gasps, her grip tightening enough to make me see stars.

“Baby—”

“Show me what you like, Jean-Mi.”

I don’t think, just cover her hand with mine.

And stroke.

“Like this?” she asks.

“Christ,” I grunt.

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