Page 57 of Hot Stuff
Tilting my head I ask, “I need a reason to kiss us both stupid?”
Laughing, he tugs me back to him and proves I’m not the only one good at kissing us stupid.
And as much as I love kissing him—him kissing me—I want something else.
Pulling back, I reach down and grab a handful of my sheath dress. It’s loose and only mid-thigh length, so it takes no effort at all to pull it up and over my head.
Walker chokes on a sucked-in breath and I can’t stop the curl of my lips.
The demi bra I’m wearing is sheer, and really, I’d have more coverage wearing plastic wrap. My thong panties match, and I know he can see how wet I am for him.
“Oak,” he says my name on a sigh, and I shiver as the nickname washes over me. “Come?—”
I dodge his hand and drop to my knees. Before he can argue, I’ve got the button and zipper on his slacks open and my hand curled around his hardening shaft.
“Oakley.” When he reaches for me again, I brush his hands away.
“No. I want to do this. Here. Now.”
I can’t explain the depth of my need to do this for him. I’ve given head before, even enjoyed it, but the desire scraping through me is raw and urgent and unlike any I’ve felt before.
After studying me for long seconds, he gives a nod and I wrap my lips around the plump tip of his cock.
Not that I need his permission to suck him off. I think we’ve proven over the last day that neither of us can deny the other.
I start slow, a gentle pull, a slow sweep of my tongue around the head then down the shaft.
He pulses and jumps against my tongue, and I grip the base of his length tighter. Adding my other hand, I slide it into his pants and cup his balls.
They’re already tucked up in his groin, the skin puckered tight, and I smile at the grumble of pleasure that comes from him when I lightly graze my nails over them.
“Oakley,” he puffs, his breath stuttering when I put my lips to his crown. But that’s nothing compared to the guttural curse that follows when I suck him deep. “Fuck!”
His fingers tangle in my hair, the tug no more than a mild sting, but it sends a shiver of delight down my spine.
I work him slowly, not too much pressure, just enough. I don’t want him going off too soon. I want us both to enjoy this.
“Oak. Jesus, woman, you’re gonna make me come.”
His grip on my head tightens, the sting not so pleasurable now but it’s the kind of pain that melds with the lust pinging across my nerves and turns into pleasure.
“Not in your mouth.” He reaches down, tries to get his hands under my arms but I clamp them close to my sides and suck him harder, work my hand on his shaft faster. “Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.”
If I didn’t have a mouth full of his dick I’d laugh. His fingers go back to my hair and with a hard yank that brings tears to my eyes he finally achieves his objective.
“Dammit, Oakley!” He’s breathing hard, his chest heaving, air sawing in and out of his mouth as though he’s been under water too long.
Smiling up at him I ask, “You didn’t like that?”
“Fuck. Get up.” His voice is tight, his jaw the same. “I’m not fucking your face in the goddamn foyer.”
I laugh and push to my feet. Taking a step back I reach out a hand. “How about fucking my face in your bedroom?”
Continuing to walk backward, I keep my eyes on his until he pushes off the wall and follows.
Once he places his hand in mine, I glance around to orient myself. The place looks different in the dark and the tour he gave me earlier didn’t include light switches.
Not that the room is completely dark. The wall of windows in the living room offers enough illumination to find the way.
