Page 19 of At Your Service
It was delicious, the way her tongue instantly moved to meet his, the way his tangled with hers in a hot duel that felt at once familiar and decadent. He tilted her face as he leaned in closer, deepening the kiss. She moaned and wrapped an arm around his neck. The hand on his chest flattened against his taut pectoral.
“As beautiful as it is, I want this dress off.” The words were a ragged whisper as he briefly pulled his lips from hers. His teeth scraped along her jawline as she tilted her head back to give him better access.
In seconds his tongue was stroking up and down the line of her neck while his words tumbled through her mind. Was he asking permission to take her dress off? Had she already answered him?
She couldn’t think beyond the heated path of moisture moving along her neck and the feel of his hands on her shoulders, going down her arms until they brushed the sides of her breasts. She sucked in a breath and released it on a ragged moan.
The zipper to the dress was on her right side. She could reach it, but she’d have to move her hands from where they’d flattened on his chest and the back of his head. She didn’t want to, but the urge to be naked beneath him was quickly taking charge.
“Now...” he grumbled, lifting her right arm to join the other one locked around his neck.
Whatever he’d said before that one word led to his fingers nimbly easing her zipper down, until the dress felt loose against her chest. He eased away from her and stood, his breath coming in heavy pants that matched hers. Taking her hands, he pulled her to her feet and removed the dress.
For what seemed like much longer than a few seconds, he simply stared at her body. She’d decided against wearing the uncomfortable shaper Lila and her crew had provided earlier. Now she wore only the black strapless bra and matching thin wisp of lace that constituted panties, which had come from the small suitcase the crew had also left in her room. In those seconds, a quick spurt of insecurity shot through her. Did he like what he saw? Was her stomach too round? Were any stretch marks visible?
Swallowing and squaring her shoulders, she said, “Your turn,” and reached for the buttons on his shirt.
He kept his gaze locked on her fingers as she worked along his torso and then to each wrist until she could push his shirt off. She wasted no time lifting the undershirt up and over his head, wanting to touch his warm skin as quickly as possible. Just a shade darker than his complexion, her fingers looked as if they belonged splayed over his muscled chest. She slid her hands across smooth skin, letting the tip of her pointer finger linger on the tight nub of his nipple before moving down to the cut of his abs. When her hands went lower and brushed his belt buckle, he grabbed each wrist.
“Turn around.” The words were gruff and a bit more forceful than anything else he’d ever said to her, sending a rush of pleasure through her body.
She stepped out of the dress and turned until she was facing the couch, her backside vulnerable to his perusal.
“What is this?”
His fingers touched her waist, raising one of six rows of waist beads she wore.
She’d almost forgotten she was wearing them. It was something she’d worn since she was a teenager, changing the colors to match whatever mood she was in at the time. She always wore them as a sign of femininity and also as a way of keeping an eye on her weight.
“African waist beads,” she told him and left off the complete history and function of the beads because his hands were moving around her waist, lifting the beads and caressing the skin beneath.
“I’ve never seen anything so sexy before in my life,” he whispered.
Sensuality was another effect of the beads, so while she’d had a moment of insecurity over the appearance of her body to him, it had quickly been replaced by her own assurance that she was a sensual and desirable woman. Hearing his confirmation that he was feeling the same way was only a boost to the confidence she already possessed.
When his exploration of the beads was over, his hands moved down farther, until his fingers were slipping beneath the lace panties. He pushed them past her hips and down her legs, keeping an arm around her waist to steady her as she stepped free of them. His hand cupped her juncture and he pulled her hard against his body.
“Soft, wet, hot.” He leaned his face down and whispered into the crook of her neck. “Just how I knew you’d feel.”
His fingers separated her folds, easing between to feel the moisture of her arousal.
“So good.” He groaned. “So damn good.”
He wasn’t lying. His fingers, moving so intimately between her legs, felt better than anything she could have ever imagined. When he thrust a finger inside her, she hissed, coming up on the tips of her toes as pleasure shot through her like fireworks.
Her head fell back against his shoulder and she cupped her breasts.
“Let me see ’em,” he mumbled as his teeth nipped her neck.
She pushed the bra down and her breasts were bared. Squeezing them in her hands, she kept her eyes closed while knowing that he was looking down at her ministrations. This position felt wickedly erotic, with him behind her, his finger thrusting inside her, his mouth at her neck and his gaze zeroing in on her breasts. She kneaded them harder, being sure to play with her nipples. He groaned, his dick getting harder as it pressed against the slit of her ass.
“I can’t do this,” he said, stepping back from her.
For a second Nina felt confused and incomplete, thinking this interlude might be over before it had really begun.
He pulled his hands from her and, just when she was going to turn and ask what was going on, she heard his belt buckle as he undid it and then dragged down the zipper of his pants. Okay, well, that answered her question. He wasn’t done with her yet, and she was glad. Twisting her arms around her back, she unhooked her bra. She had no idea where he’d gotten it from, but the next thing she heard was the tear of the condom packet. Barely a minute later, he bent her over the couch, her hands planted on the soft cushions as he spread her legs.
“It’s not going to be slow, but it’ll be good. Damn, I can’t wait, it’s gonna be so good.”
