Ready to Roll by Melanie Greene Page A

What tadpoles weren’t boiled alive already were amassed at her vulva, squirming.
    “I told you not to take off your clothes.”
    “And that’s fascinating, Toots, but it’s harder for you to lick my nipples if they’re covered.”
    “Don’t call me Toots.” His voice was grim, and Janice grimaced.
    “It just slipped out.”
    “Just slipped out? You’re in my bed, Janice.”
    She had to curl to the side to contain the helpless giggles. “Well, I sure hope that’s the only thing slipping out tonight.”
    Miguel gave a bark of laughter, but his hand went to his shaft, which he pumped as if to reinforce that it wouldn’t be slipping out, ever.
    Damn tadpoles stealing all the moisture from Janice’s mouth.
    “Do you need help remembering my name, sweet Janice?”
    She shook her head.
    “I want you to say it.”
    “Well, I want your mouth on my tit, and I don’t see that happening.”
    “Say my name first.”
    Bossy man. As if Janice didn’t know which sun she was orbiting. The ‘Toots’ thing was just ingrained, and he knew that about her, and ought to cut her some slack. And get on with the sex, too, if she was enumerating things he ought to do.
    “Take off your panties,” he said, sliding further away from her.
    Fine, then. That was getting somewhere. Janice did.
    “Say my name.”
    She eyed him speculatively. Something about the intensity in his voice made Janice even wetter, and she gyrated a bit on the bed, opening herself to his view. But, devilishly, she didn’t say his name.
    “Take off my boxers. But no touching.”
    Finally. Miguel stood at the end of the bed, and Janice scooted to the edge, close as she could be without skin-to-skin contact. He lifted the waistband over his pulsing erection, and Janice lowered the boxers slowly, leaning forward. Exhaling across the head of his cock wasn’t, technically, touching.
    He laughed. “Oh, sweet Janice love, you will kill me tonight, won’t you?”
    “Um-hum.”
    “Now your shirt. But no touching.”
    She drew the hem upwards, making sure to brush her nipples as she lifted the camisole up and tossed it to join the rest of their garments on the floor. “Time for sex,” she said, giving another little bounce as she flopped back on the bed, the tulip bouncing along side her.
    Miguel regarded her, one hand squeezing the base of his cock as he noted the insistent tiny jumps her pelvis was making in his direction. “Eager, are you? In a rush?”
    “I’m aching, Mickey Mouse, and you’ve hardly touched me yet.”
    “Aching, sweet love? You don’t know about aching. I’ve been fantasizing about having you stripped and on that bed for so long.”
    She moaned, and he pumped his cock, and that just made her growl.
    And that made him eye her intently again. “You know, sweet Janice, I have a feeling that if I just spread your legs and licked you once, you’d come.”
    Janice moaned but wasn’t about to confirm. He was enjoying himself too much.
    Miguel moved up the bed a ways, aligned with her chest. “Or maybe if I sucked on your tits, do you think you would come if I didn’t go near your lovely clit? Just sucking your nipples? Maybe a little bite or two?”
    Janice moaned again, and her nipples ached and peaked. She ran a hand up her belly towards them, but Miguel challenged her with a look, so she stopped, groaned, and lifted her pelvis invitingly.
    He looked, but did not touch. “Here’s an interesting question. What if I just blew air on your clit and those pert, tight nipples? No contact at all, just my breath, hot like yours was on me. What do you think, querida? Would you come if I did that?”
    She thrashed, but didn’t touch, either. Her legs stretched out straight, the motion shifting nerve endings across her clitoris, so she stretched and did it again, while Miguel watched her every movement. He went back to the foot of the bed, where every particle of her was exposed to his view, and thank God, picked up the condom.
    “What