Page 116 of Lethal Torture
“Then again,” I say, tilting my head to one side, “maybe you should start with that top, since your nipples are so hard they’re about to put holes in it.”
She stares at me. I stare right back.
Then she stands up and turns around, showing me that perfect ass. She looks coyly back at me over her shoulder. “You want me to take it off, huh?” Her voice is low and sultry, and it does things to my cock that no woman ever has.
“Oh, I think youneedto take it off.”
Still watching me, she slowly inches the top upward, revealing the slender curve of her waist, the smooth skin of her back, then the ivory silk of her bra. She halts, giving me a look from beneath downcast lashes that makes me hard enough to crack the table. “Do you know what the art of burlesque really is, Luke?”
I raise my eyebrows.
“It’s the art of the tease.” She moves her hands, making the top dance just beneath her breasts, which are still turned away from me.
“Zinaida?”
She scrapes her lower lip with her teeth seductively. “Uh-huh?”
“Take the fucking top off.”
She gives that gurgle of laughter that turns my brain to mush, and then she draws the top over her head and throws it back to me. I ball it in my hand, feeling the heat of her body, inhaling her sublime scent.
“Now the sweats.”
She hooks her fingers under the waistband, arches her back, and slowly edges the sweats down, revealing the silk-clad twin peaches of her ass, inch by delicious inch. She bends forward, easing the sweats down her legs, until they’re at her ankles and I’m staring at the dark, moisture-soaked gateway to fucking heaven between her legs.
“Turn around.”
She turns slowly toward me. Her lips are parted, her eyes slightly glazed, and no amount of silk and lace can disguise how wet she is or how hard her nipples are.
“Take your hair out.”
She reaches up and slowly takes the pins out. The white-blonde twist slowly unfurls behind her, falling about her face in a soft curtain.
Fuck.
“Lose the bra.”
She reaches behind her and unclasps it. The material slides slowly down her arms, revealing the creamy globes and rosebud nipples. I take a mouthful of whiskey, swirling the liquid slowly around my mouth, and she gasps. Her eyes drop to my cock, which is straining the limits of my suit pants.
“Take them off,” she says, her voice not quite steady.
I shake my head. “Come here.”
She crosses the floorboards toward me, her hips swaying, and it’s all I can do to hold the last shreds of my control. She stops just out of reach.
I place my glass on the table, then beckon her with one finger. “Closer.”
She takes another step, and I can feel her heat reaching for me. I open my legs and point to the space between them. “Here.”
She steps into me, her whole body quivering. I put my hands on her hips, my thumbs stroking the delicate hollow inside them, and she moans softly, her eyes fluttering closed. I turn her in a slow circle, my hands moving her an inch at a time, drinking in the dimple at the base of her spine, the soft brush of her hair against my hands, the play of silk against her skin. By the time she’s facing me again, there’s only one thing I can think of.
I hook my fingers beneath the silk and draw it down her legs, exposing the pale blonde mound. Drawing her toward me, I press my mouth to the flat of her navel.
She trembles, and her hands thread through my hair as she arches toward me.
“When we were sitting on that plane,” I say, “you almost made me lose it in front of all your staff.” I draw my tongue across her lower belly, then press my thumbs on her outer lips, slowly manipulating the swollen bud inside them, and she sucks in her breath. I touch the tip of my tongue to the very top of her mound, then tilt my head back and look up at her. She stares down at me, her eyes liquid pools, her lips parted. “I think it’s time for some payback.”
Spreading her with my thumbs, I draw my tongue all the way down one glistening side of her pussy, then slowly back up the other side.
