Page 84 of Good as Gold
God, I’ve got to rein it in. I take another bite of cupcake. There’s so much frosting, that a large blob of buttercream ends up on my thumb.
I almost lick it off. Almost. But something makes me hesitate. And then my evil brain asks a crucial question—how would buttercream look in Matteo’s mustache?
I lean toward him, aiming that blob of frosting for his upper lip. As a woman with two younger siblings, I’ve always known that hesitation is the death of an attack.
But it’s a miscalculation, because Matteo hasfouryounger siblings. He’s seen it all before.
He catches my wrist in one of his big hands. And then? The remaining quarter cupcake from hisotherhand is smushed firmly onto my mouth.
All over my mouth.
Suddenly, the truck echoes with two competing sounds—my shriek of dismay and his laughter.
Indignant, I tongue the bulk of the cupcake from my face and into my mouth, because that’s the easiest solution. “You ass.”
He just laughs and refuses to let go of my wrist. I have to set the remains of my cupcake in the cupholder and use my free hand to scrape the rest of the mess from my skin.
Matteo watches this with amusement. Then he lifts my trapped hand to his mouth and sucks the buttercream off my thumb.
Deeply.
With his tongue.
I gasp, the sound making it abundantly clear how I feel about this sudden reacquaintance with his tongue and its capabilities.
Our eyes lock. Before I can form a thought, Matteo is leaning across the bench seat to capture my mouth with his.
Oh boy. His kiss is like one of those sentimental songs on my playlist—familiar and exciting at the same time. I sink into the rhythm without missing a beat.
When he pulls back, it’s only to whisper against my mouth, “Don’t know what tastes better. You, or the buttercream.”
And then? That skillful tongue handily removes the rest of the frosting from my lips.
By the time he’s done, my hands are clenched on his biceps, and my nipples are urgent peaks inside my bra. As if he can sense my need, he cups my breast, his thumb grazing my nipple.
I whimper. Today is not a smiley-face day, and we both know it.
This was never part of the plan, but I don’t think I care. It’s after midnight on a dark Vermont road. I’m alone with this man I’ve always wanted, even when I was too young and dumb to understand it.
Fuck it.
My hand ventures down his chest and lands on the fly of his trousers. Boldly, I pop the button.
Matteo inhales sharply. The sound goes straight to my nipples, but also to my ego. The fact that I can surprise him is like gasoline on my personal fire.
That’s why I plunge my hand into his boxer briefs and pull out his thickening cock. And that’s why I lean right over and suck the head into my mouth.
He lets fly with a string of curses, and it brings me so much joy. I have never felt as sexy as I do right now.
Matteo grips my hair and groans deeply. He’s hard and heavy on my tongue, and I’m slightly frustrated by the lack of maneuverable space between his tight belly and the steering wheel. But I make up for it in enthusiasm. If I’m careful, I can take more of him into my mouth, and he helps me out by lifting his powerful hips off the seat.
Who knew this could be so wildly erotic? Giving head was something I’ve only done out of a sense of obligation, as a prelude to the fun part.
But now itisthe fun part. Every time Matteo makes another broken sound, I feel a rush of heat between my legs. Knowing I have the power to thrill him is so exciting.
Suddenly he lifts me off his body, and the truck’s seat goes sliding back.
“Panties off,” he growls. “Get over here.”
