Body Language: The Boot Knockers, Book 2 by Em Petrova Page A

that command? She murmured, “I’m thinking about how your cock would feel in my mouth.”
    He launched to his feet, the camera abandoned on the floor. In one swift move, he wrapped his arms around her and threw her back onto the bed. Then he covered her with his powerful body.
    The clash of their mouths was fuel to a fire. She moaned, and he swallowed it, feeding her his own. Their tongues tangled, and he drove two fingers right into her pussy. She cried out, nearly splintering at the intrusion. But he only stuffed them deeper, giving her that impossible fullness she craved.
    He tongue-fucked her mouth. Between kisses and finger thrusts, he said, “You want me in your mouth? Want to swallow every inch of me, take me in the back of your throat?”
    God, she did. She’d do just about anything for it. She nodded, eyes pinched shut at the erotic images he painted. He didn’t move his fingers, but somehow she felt as if he’d inched deeper.
    Suddenly he pulled his fingers free and reared onto his knees. He stuck his fingers in his mouth and sucked, holding her gaze. Her body hummed with need.
    When he pulled his fingers out with a slurping noise, she reached for his waistband at the same time he did. Their fingers met, and together they freed his cock. The thick length slid into her hand, heavy with need.
    She panted for air.
    “Fuck. Doll, I want you.”
    She nodded, and he scooted up the bed until his swollen head hung over her lips. She opened her mouth, and he fed her his cock. It was the most erotic thing she’d ever known.
    She accepted him as far as she could. Clamping her fingers around the base, she tried to bring him deeper. Their gazes met, and he groaned. He cupped her jaw. “You’re so fucking hot. So gorgeous.”
    Digging her fingers into his ass, she drew him closer. The musky scent and flavor of him sent her spiraling out of control. She licked a path down his shaft then back up to swirl around his head. A bead of pre-come hit her tongue, and they both moaned.
    She increased the suction, pulling on him as he bucked his hips. She closed her eyes and let herself enjoy everything about him, wanting to give him as much pleasure as he’d given her in the past two days.
    When she opened her eyes, she caught his head thrown back, bliss scrawled over his features. She hollowed her cheeks, and he growled. From this angle he looked bigger, more layered with muscle…and more gorgeous. As his cock slid over her tongue, she memorized him.
    The tattoos stood out against his skin. She wanted to trace the shape of the heart held in the inked palm, to know the man inside and out.
    A shuddering breath left her. God, she was getting too deep. She couldn’t let him hold her heart in his hand like the tattoo.
    He stiffened. She met his gaze. And he erupted onto her tongue. She swallowed reflexively, but after the first flood, she gulped eagerly. He roared his release, and she clung to him with her lips and tongue and hands, drawing him as close as possible.
    When he slowed his movements, heat bloomed in her face.
    With a quiet noise, he pulled free and stretched out beside her, pulling her so tightly against him, she could barely draw a deep breath. He stroked her hair for a long minute while she listened to his racing heart slow.
    Finally she gave in and traced the heart in the palm of the hand on his chest. “‘I carry your heart with me…’”
    He fell dead still as the poem died on her lips. She pulled her hand back and stiffened.
    “I’m sorry,” she murmured.
    He planted a hand on her back and pinned her to him. “Don’t ever apologize to me, Ruthie. Between us, there’s nothing to be sorry for. What is that a line from? A song?”
    Surprise claimed her. “A poem by ee eummings. I thought the tattoo’s meaning…”
    He shook his head. “I’ve never heard of it, but it fits, doesn’t it?”
    “So well,” she breathed. Her emotions rioted. The way Damian held her felt so much like what she imaged love