Page 8 of Man of the Month Club: May
He sucks a breath in through his teeth at my touch. I immediately yank my hands back and say, “Sorry.”
When he leans back to look into my eyes, I immediately miss his exquisite kisses and exploration of me. His expression is perplexed when he asks, “What are you sorry for?”
“I know my hands are freezing. I won’t touch you, if you don’t want me to.” I stare down at the tile floor, balling my hands into fists and willing them to warm up, even though I know it’s a lost cause.
He reaches out to lift my chin with his finger. Once I’m looking at him, he says, “The coldness startled me a bit at first, but it feels wonderful. Put your hands back on me. Now.”
The gruff, firm order surprises me, but I like this take-charge, commanding side of him. As much as I enjoy being bossy about everything else, there’s no denying how titillating it is to be ordered around by an alpha male in the bedroom.
Obeying him, I use my chilly hands to slide his open shirt over his shoulders and let it fall to the floor. He rewards me by reaching up to unbutton the three buttons on my right shoulder that are holding my dress up. Once he has them unhooked, he slowly lowers the fabric.
I hadn’t been able to wear a bra with the single-shoulder dress, so the cool air teases my skin as he peels down the upper half of my dress.
He leans back to take in the sight of my bare breasts. My chest heaves as I try to keep my breathing under control. His half-lidded, desirous gaze makes heat spread out from my chest like warm liquid.
In a flash, he lunges in my direction. His hands clasp my ass and lift me onto the marble countertop of his large kitchen island. Almost immediately, one breast is engulfed by his large, rough hand and the other is in his hot, wet mouth.
My head tips back at the sudden electrifying currents pulsing through me as he worships my boobs. My hands find their way to the back of his neck, and I arch my back––silently granting him even more access.
His finger and thumb have rolled one nipple into a hard, aching nub. When his teeth lightly graze the other, I cry out––stunned by how good this feels, yet desperate for more.
Seeming to sense my urgency, Cooper’s hands find the hem of my dress. He slides his palms up my legs and over the outer edges of my thighs, taking my skirt up with them. When he reaches my hips, he hooks his fingers over the sides of my panties.
His mouth pauses from lavishing attention on my breast long enough for him to growl, “Lift that delectable ass.”
I scramble to comply, and he quickly slides my panties down my legs. When he reaches my high heels, he massages each ankle before gently taking my fancy shoes off and gingerly setting them on the floor. I appreciate the care he takes with my heels, since they’re the most expensive shoes I own.
Without the barrier of my pumps to stop them, my lacy panties fall further down. I point my toes to kick them off and immediately forget about them when Cooper reaches down to find me wet and ready for him.
After lifting my dress over my head and tossing it aside, he demands, “Lie back on the counter.”
Although it crosses my mind that it’s a bit obscene to sprawl out naked on the kitchen counter of a man I just met and bickered with all evening, I can’t bring myself to truly care. I’m far too excited to see what sensual surprises he has in store for me.
I lean up on one elbow to watch him kick off his leather loafers and surprisingly gaudy dress socks. When he reaches for his belt buckle, the sound of the metal unclasping makes me swallow audibly. I’m so keyed up with nerves and anticipation, I can hardly stand the wait as he unfastens his pants and slowly lowers the zipper.
He saves time by removing his pants and underwear in one swift, smooth move. When he stands back up, my eyes are drawn to his cock. It’s truly impressive, and it’s probing out in my direction as if seeking my touch.
Unable to resist teasing him a bit, I say, “You saw my Mini Cooper tonight at the bar’s parking lot. I’m thrilled to get to meet your––”
He interrupts me to say, “Please don’t use the word ‘mini’ in reference to my junk.”
We both chuckle because his manhood is anything but small. When I shift to reach a hand out toward him, he turns serious and says in a no-nonsense tone, “No touching me, until you’re coming undone with the need for me.”
It’s tempting to tell him that I’m already nearly there, but I merely gaze back at him with wide eyes as I nod my head in agreement to his wonderful plan.
He spreads my legs apart and steps forward. The heat of him radiates near my core as he lifts one of my legs, kisses along my inner thigh up toward the apex, then hooks my leg over his shoulder. After giving my other leg the same scintillating treatment, I’m left open before him.
He gazes at me as if my body is the greatest gift he’s ever received. When he turns to the side to kiss and lick his way along my legs, my hips thrust up in desperation for him to put his mouth where I need it most.
My eyes glaze over when the hot air from his mouth greets me as he hovers just above where I want him. I dig my heels into his shoulders and beg him, “Please.”
“Please what?” the frustrating man asks.
“Please put your mouth on me,” I clarify between desperate pants.
“My mouth is on you,” he murmurs between delectable kisses of my inner thigh. At my anguished cry, he instructs me, “Tell me exactly what you want.”
My head thrashes back and forth as all sense of propriety and decency slip away. All that matters is that man’s talented mouth and what I ache for him to do to my body. Not caring a bit that I will likely be mortified in the morning that I shouted this during the throes of passion, I yell, “I need your mouth on my pussy!”
