Page 66 of Love Lessons
“Please.” She pats my cheek. “Like you don’t already have a lesson plan? What kind of teacher are you?”
I shake my head. “Thisisthe lesson plan. Speaking your mind is sexy. Asking for what you want is sexy. Besides, if you want a man to please you, you gotta know where to start. If your dickhead ex didn’t get the job done, maybe it’s because the poor fool needed guidance.”
She bites her plump lip. “Do you know how much I hate admitting that you have a point?”
“How much?” I kiss the underside of her smile. “A lot, I hope.”
“It hurts me a great deal,” she sniffs.
I drop my voice and whisper into her ear. “Tell me where it hurts, so I can lick it better.”
“Ian.” She shivers. “I really like the naughty things you say.”
“Do you, now? Tell me how much you like it. And tell me how I’m going to make you scream tonight.”
She takes my head in two hands and positions her lips right at my ear. And when she finally speaks, her breath tickles, making a shiver run down my back. “I need you to fuck me,” she whispers. “Not softly, either. I don’t want you to treat me like it’s amateur hour. I’m tired of wondering what it’s really like to be with you.”
Whew. Is it hot in here? “Baby.” My voice actually cracks like I’m thirteen again. That’s how much I want it, too. “I’m so happy to hear that. And for the record, hearing you whisperfuck meinto my ear made me hard as an iron spike.” Just to prove my point, I drop my hips onto hers, so that my cock is poised between her legs.
Her eyes go into soft focus. “You feel so nice.”
“Nice?” I snicker. “Of all the things I feel right now,niceis not near the top of the list. More like ravenous.” I reach down and demonstrate by nipping the juncture of her neck and shoulder. Then I kiss it better.
I start to kiss my way down her body. Her skin is steamy from the bath. The window is open a crack, and there’s a floral-scented breeze off the lake. “Now this is living,” I murmur against her skin.
Her hands grasp my face. “Stop right there, please,” she whispers. “Not my stomach.”
My lips pause at the underside of her breast. “Why?”
“Because,” she says. “Just because.” She puts both hands on her stomach, like she’s guarding it.
“Okay, contessa,” I say slowly. I want to know more, but I refuse to ruin the mood.
Instead, I kiss and lick and tease her soft breasts until she moans my name.
“That’s right. You make that sound, and say my name? I get even harder.”
I think we’re past the point of instruction. She shifts her hips with impatience as I kiss the backs of her hands, which are still poised above her stomach. And then I shift purposefully down her body toward her pussy.
A month ago, if you’d asked me if pint-sized, fussy women who work in fashion were my type, I would have told you no. But this one is. She’s so damn responsive, moaning as I nudge her knees apart, and whimpering when I brush a teasing hand across her mound. “I am goddamnseduced,” I growl. “You win.”
“What’s my prize?” she gasps.
“This.” I drop my head down and give her a slow, dirty lick, right where she needs me.
Her hands grip the comforter as she lets out a happy cry.
I spend the next half hour pleasuring her. I bring her right to the edge of bliss, and then back off again. After the first two times, she figures out that I’m teasing her intentionally. And she doesn’t take it well.
“God, you’re mean,” she pants, glassy-eyed. “Last night you convinced me that I could get there. And now you won’t let me. Who does that?”
I hide my face against her thigh and laugh. “A greedy man, that’s who. You got condoms in that drawer of yours?”
She groans. “No, I don’t.”
“Don’t panic, girly.” I heave myself up off the bed and head for the bathroom. “I’ve got us covered.”
After a quick visit to my suitcase, I return to find that she’s put on another one of her stretchy little tank tops. But no panties, thank God. And she’s propped herself up against the pillows.
