Page 72 of Huckleberry Hill
His lips covered mine. Warm, insistent, passionate.
I opened my mouth in invitation. His tongue thrust between my lips to duel with mine. I rubbed against him, rocking my hips, instinctively needing more from him.
His breath smelled of bourbon and mint, and I savored the taste of him.
“Off,” he grunted, tugging on my shirt.
I lifted my arms, and he slid the T-shirt up over my head and tossed it aside.
“Fuck me,” he whispered in reverence as his hands reached up to cradle my breasts.
He held the weight of them in his palms and then his thumbs slid across my nipples. Declan bent his head and took one of them into his warm, welcoming mouth.
I closed my eyes and moaned in pleasure as he released my nipple from his lips.
“You like that.”
I didn’t reply, I just pushed my breast back into his mouth.
He nipped and tugged, sending a shot of desire straight to my core. With his fingers, he twirled my other nipple. A blush of a fever spread through me.
I wanted more. I needed more.
My nipple popped from his mouth again and he leaned back, gazing at me with languid eyes.
“My turn,” I whispered, reaching for the hem of his T-shirt.
He lifted up and away from the couch, grabbed the back of his shirt and hauled it off. He tossed it where he’d tossed mine.
“It’s just as beautiful as I remember,” I said as my hand grazed down his pectoral, across the tattoo.
“My muscular chest?”
I smiled at his sass. “That too. But I meant the tattoo.”
“I’ll tell you about it later,” he said gruffly. “So you were looking at me the night we met?”
“Kind of hard not to,” I admitted. I wiggled on his lap, causing him to groan. I pressed my lips to his sternum and then peppered my way across toward his nipple.
“I couldn’t stop staring at you either.” His fingers sank into my hair and his breath caught when my teeth gently bit his nipple.
“No more talking.”
“Yes, ma’am.” He leaned his head back against the couch and closed his eyes.
My fingers glided up his chest that was covered in dark hair. I giggled.
Declan’s eyes flipped open. “Are you laughing?”
“Yes.”
“Are you laughing at me while I’m half naked?”
“Maybe.”
“Woman, you want to talk about an ego killer?”
I buried my face into the side of his neck and started to laugh again. “I’m sorry, I just—you’ve got a pelt.”
