in silk. Hard, rigid, strong, the epitome of all a man should be. Yet soft, silken, warm and velvet in her palm.
With her other hand, she cupped his heavy sac, running her fingers up and down the soft underside, feeling the separation of his balls when she pressed inward.
“I think I like being petted, too,” he said in a strained voice.
She reached up on tiptoe to kiss him. He caught her with his hands, cupping the area of her neck underneath her jawline. His fingertips brushed the lobes of her ears as he melded his lips to hers.
His tongue met hers, warm, melting. His thumbs pressed into the hollows of her cheeks then slid to the corners of her mouth. He pulled his head away as she sucked in mouthfuls of air. His hands relaxed and slipped away for a brief moment before he grasped her hips and yanked her against his body.
With slow, deliberate movements, he walked her back toward the bed. Midway, he reached down and swept her into his arms. She hooked her arms around his neck and stared up into his eyes.
Their gazes were still locked as he lowered her to the bed. He came down with her, putting one knee on one side of her hips then finally straddling her body.
“We’re going to operate on the honor system tonight,” he said.
“Oh? This sounds interesting. Which of us is supposed to have the honor because I’m really hoping it’s not me.”
He smacked the side of her behind, sending a delicious, naughty thrill through her groin. “Smart ass.”
He slid his hands up her sides, and as they glided over her curves, she shivered and flinched.
“Ticklish?” he asked with a grin.
She gave him a dirty look.
He continued his path up her body until his fingers lodged underneath her arms. He pushed, raising her arms up and over her head.
“Yes, definitely the honor system. You’re going to leave your arms exactly where I’ve put them. No cheating. No touching. This is my show.”
An excited flutter chased circles around her stomach and into her throat as he threw her own words back at her.
“I can live with that,” she said casually, but her voice shook and betrayed the adrenaline coursing through her veins.
He let her arms go with a stern look to make sure she heeded his directive.
“Touch me,” she whispered. She ached for him, wanted him so desperately. Wanted his hands on her, his fingers, his tongue.
He cupped her breasts, plumping and kneading. His thumbs brushed across her nipples, sending currents of fire through her chest. He plucked the points until they were stiff, erect and tingling. Applying firmer pressure, he pinched each peak, then harder still.
She arched into him, crying out, begging for more, needing more.
His hands slid to her ribcage, and he lowered his head until his lips pressed against the spot between her breasts. Wet, warm, languid, his tongue swept out to taste her. The rough texture of his taste buds rasped across her belly as he moved lower. She spasmed uncontrollably.
He backed down the bed on hands and knees as his tongue swirled lower. It was becoming harder to obey his dictate and keep her arms still. She wanted to touch him, to clutch at his shoulders as he drove her mad with his lips.
One firm hand parted her thighs, and he kissed the inside of her leg tantalizingly close to her throbbing clit. He burrowed his fingers into her curls and stroked down the seam of her folds, coaxing them apart until she was bared to his touch and to his gaze.
He lowered his head, and she closed her eyes in anticipation of feeling his tongue on her most sensitive parts. He blew gently over her slit, and her groin muscles clenched in response.
She felt hot, needy, restless, like a snake ready to shed its skin. Her blood danced in her veins to a frantic rhythm in tune with the song he played with her body.
“Please,” she whispered. “I want your mouth on me.”
His tongue flicked out over her clit sending a red hot bolt of flame spearing through her abdomen. Her nipples