Page 81 of Forget Me

“Sí, mi tesoro.”

I took my time sliding the zipper down her back, kissing every inch of skin as I revealed it. When the zipper reached the bottom of its track and the fabric shushed to the floor, I held Mimi’s hand as she stepped out of it.

She must have put on the strapless bra to try on the off-the-shoulder dress. It cinched around her ribs, the underwire contouring around the lower curves of her breasts. On top, the upper swells spilled out of the cups, showing off the deep valley in between.

I couldn’t resist. I stuck my nose into that valley and explored the silken hills with my tongue. Only when I’d mapped them did I reach behind her to unfasten the four hooks that secured it. I took my time, easing the hooks one by one. When I peeled the garment from her skin, there were red furrows where it had poked into her. I kissed them, laved them with my tongue, hoping to take away the ache.

She moaned my name.

I worked my way up to her nipples the way I’d driven her wild Sunday night, wetting one to stroke and pinch it with my fingers while I licked and nibbled the other. Groaning, she let her head fall back. Her responsiveness made my dick stiffen against my leg.

Supporting her back, I worshiped at the altar of her bosom, tracing her curves, lapping at her pebbled skin. Tonight, this fantasy of a woman was mine. Mine to please, mine to adore.

Her breath hitched. “I’m—I’m—”

I sucked her nipple into my mouth, biting down firmly. Her legs shook, making her body tremble in my arms. I held her through it, easing up on the pressure but not pausing the work of my mouth and fingers.

“Who’s making you come, Mimi?” I growled. Jesus, I was a greedy bastard. But I needed to hear my name on her lips.

“You are. You are, Mateo,” she murmured.

“I need you, mi vida.”

“Yes.” The word ended with a sigh and a greedy whimper.

I guided her to the bed, pushed the dresses to the floor, and laid her down. Slowly, I drew her panties down her legs, lingering at the juncture of her legs to inhale the scent of her arousal into my lungs.

Locking my gaze with hers, I tugged off my long-sleeved T-shirt. Then I flicked the button of my jeans and dropped them to the floor.

Her eyes widened. “You’re not wearing underwear?”

“Are you scandalized?”

“Yes.” But she rubbed her legs together.

“Ah-ah,” I teased, gripping her knees and tugging them apart until she was spread before me, glistening and swollen. “I’m taking care of you tonight.”

“Then take care of me. I need—”

I cut her off with a swipe of my tongue through her slit. Her knees quaked in my grip.

“Condom.” She tipped her chin toward the bedside table, where a shallow glass bowl held a handful of colorful condom packets.

“I like it.” I snatched one up. “No fumbling in drawers.”

One corner of her mouth tipped up. “You can fumble in my drawers anytime.”

I fake-gasped. “That’s my line, cariño.”

“No.” She smirked. “Your line is, ‘How deep, baby?’”

I grunted as I rolled on the latex and then grasped myself at the base. If she kept going with that kind of talk, I was going to come before I was even inside her. Sex was my domain, and I needed to wrench back control. Leaning both knees on the bed between her spread thighs, I purred, “I’m not asking. I’m going deep, baby.”

Lifting her hips off the bed to position her where I needed her, I shoved inside in a single thrust. I held my breath until the fireworks in front of my vision cleared. When I looked at her face, her mouth gaped in bliss.

“Legs around my back.”

She dug her heels into the lower part of my back, and I tightened my grip. I rocked my hips against her. “This okay?”

---