Page 145 of Score
I did all my preparation while the food was cooking. I’m clean as a whistle. When I walk into the bedroom, Monk is sitting on the edge of the bed, wearing only his briefs, his broad shoulders gleaming and slightly damp from his shower.
“C’mere,” he says, his eyes softening when they meet mine.
I cross over and he pulls me down to his lap.
“Did you find everything okay?” I can barely suppress my grin. “I left it all on the counter for you.”
“Uh, yeah,” he says wryly. “I saw the whole… kit. I guess I did everything right.”
“Oh my God.” I bury my face in his neck and try not to laugh. “Do I need to check ‘behind’ you?”
“One more butt joke, and we ain’t doing this.”
“No more jokes.” I pull back and school my features into complete sobriety. “This is serious business.”
He leaves kisses along the curve of my neck. “You have on too many clothes.”
I stand and reach for the top button of my dress, but he captures my fingers.
“Let me.” He stands, his eyes not leaving mine as he divests me of my dress, the lacy bra, and then finally coaxes my panties down over my hips and ass until they pool around my ankles.
“Wow.” He swallows, his Adam’s apple bobbing, his pupils flaring to drown out the irises and darken his eyes. “You’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen, Vee.”
I spread my fingers at his nape, tugging his head down so I can suck his bottom lip and then the perfect bow of his upper one.
“Let’s dance,” he whispers into the kiss.
“Let’s what?” I laugh, glancing up through my lashes to make sure I’ve heard him right. “I’m naked, Monk, and you want to dance?”
“It’s still Valentine’s Day. Romance before butt stuff.”
He taps my nose and walks over to the bedside table, pressing a few buttons on a remote. “My Funny Valentine” pours through the hidden speakers, Chet Baker’s dulcet tones making the air sweet and heavy.
Monk slips his arms around my waist and pulls me to him. The song is poignant, and our bodies sway a little, barely qualifying as dancing. But my bare flesh slides against his. The softness of my breasts kissing the unyielding ridges of his chest, my nipples begging for his hands, his mouth—anything to relieve the ache building at the tips. He’s hard against my stomach and the strength of his muscles when he slides his leg between mine steals my breath. Chet is still singing, the song on repeat, but we stop swaying, and I strain up, wrapping one hand around his head and one around his dick, pulling on him and panting at his lips.
The music continues to flow over us even as we move toward the bed. He stretches out and looks over at me, one brow quirked. “This is your show. Take the lead.”
“Gladly.” I reach over to the bedside table I’ve adopted as my own and pull out my supplies.
Monk tips his head back and stares at the ceiling. “I’m never playing cards with you again.”
I snicker and kiss along his collarbone, down his chest, sucking his nipples and exploring the ridges of his abs, the swells of his pecs, the bulge of his biceps, and the flex of his thighs. I delight in the hard, silky beauty of his body. He turns me onto my side and lifts the curls from my neck, anointing my nape with open-mouth kisses, dragging his lips down the curve of my spine, and licking across my hip. Finally he gently turns me onto my stomach.
“You sure you don’t want me to fuckyouin the ass?” he asks, humor threaded with the lust in his voice. “That offer’s still on the table.”
“As generous as that is,” I say, breathless from his mouth all over me, “I have an even better reward for that dick.”
He glances almost woefully down at my ass and sighs. “If you say so.”
“I want to make you feel good in a different way, Monk,” I say, looking over my shoulder and searching his face. “Is that okay?”
“Yeah.” He runs his open palm over the curve of my ass and brushes his finger over the small hole. “You did say I get to do all those other things to it.”
I laugh and gesture to the array of toys and lubricants on the bed beside us. “Do your worst.”
“I’ve done this before,” he muses, feathering kisses over my backside. “I love it actually. I think I’m pretty good at it.”
Cheek to the pillow, I grin. “I’ll be the judge of—Ohhhhhhh, shiiiiiit!”
