Page 91 of Hooked
Right.
He tied another loop on the end of the scarf and hooked it over a corner post. “So, while I have you here—”
“Teaching me knots?”
“Exactly.” He kissed up her body. “I thought you could give me your opinion on an important discussion topic.”
“Really?”
“Really.” He reached under her and arched her back up, bringing her breasts back to his mouth. “I mean…” He licked between them. “There’s a lot of discussion about positive female representation in comics these days. And because you are female—”
“I’m so glad you noticed.” Her voice was high.
“—I thought you might have an opinion.”
“Okay.” She could hardly breathe. “Um… did you have a specific concern?”
He moved down her body and got to his knees. Then he pulled one of his casual He-Man moves and flipped her onto her stomach, her hands still tethered over her head.
“Oh!”
He bent down to her ear. “You good?”
“Yeah.” He was driving her crazy, but she was happy to play along.
Jeremy smoothed a hand over the small of her back and along the curve of her bottom. “This area, for instance.”
“Yeah?”
“It provokes a lot of debate.”
“Really?” She could feel his hands along the outside of her thighs, tracing the round flesh. “Um… what do people debate?”
His hands massaged her ass, thumbs tracing the sensitive line where the curve of her bottom met the back of her thighs. “Some critics think that comic book depictions exaggerate the proportions of the female buttocks. They think artists oversexualize female characters.”
“Really? And what do you think?”
“Me?” Jeremy straddled her, his knees on either side of her thighs. He lowered himself until his chest touched her back. “I find it very difficult to complain about a generous ass on a woman, but I can’t argue that it isn’t overtly sexual in nature and therefore possibly objectification.”
Tayla was panting. “Did you know that feminist criticism of comic book culture turns me on?”
He reached down and felt between her thighs. “I had no idea.”
Fuck. She bit into his pillow. “Jeremy—”
“You still comfortable with your arms up there?” he asked again, his beard tickling her neck.
“Yes, just stop torturing me or I swear—”
He shoved her knees open, brought her hips up, and slid inside.
Fuck yes.
Tayla sighed in relief. Then she wasn’t sighing at all. She was moaning into his pillow. She was begging. She was yelling his name.
At one point she was pretty sure she blacked out.
And when she woke, he was untying her hands and kissing her wrists, whispering sweet things against her skin and cuddling her against his chest.
