Page 31 of Bad Attitude
He kisses me again, hands cupping my face, and his touch stings the bruise on my cheek. It adds a contrast of sensations that makes me moan into his mouth, our tongues playing and our breathing heavy. My breasts push against his chest and his hands fall to my ass, pulling me in harder. Mine return to his belt, opening it, and then the button of his pants. The sides fall away and I push a hand within, discovering he’s going commando. And his cock is warm and heavy beneath my palm, already hard, the skin so soft. His hips twitch at my touch.
“Fuck,” he murmurs, breaking our kiss, pressing his forehead to mine. “Too many clothes.”
He pulls at the hem of my cropped shirt and I lift my arms, letting him tug it over my head. His fingers find the clasp of my bra, flicking it open with an ease that suggests he’s well-practiced, and I have to quell the sudden rise of my own nerves. I’moutof practice, and never had that much to begin with.
Shit. What am I doing in here, with him, like this?
My bra falls to the floor, and his head lowers. I expect him to go for my breast, my nipples tight and aching for his touch despite my hesitation, but he doesn’t. Instead, his lips find the side of my neck, histongue following. He laps at my skin, then trails kisses across my collarbone while his fingers deftly unfasten my pants.
My body lights up like it had forgotten how to do this, and is only now remembering.
His fingers trace a line from my shoulder down my flank, brushing the side of my breast, across my stomach. I know what he’s doing; he’s following the path of my thorns and flowers tattoo.
“It’s beautiful,” he says, eyes hooded, mouth set firm, expression careful. “Now I’m going to have to find whoever did this and kill him because he’s seen you naked. What a waste. It’s such fine work, too.”
I laugh, a little breathlessly, assuming he’s joking but not fully convinced. “It wasn’t a him, it was a her.”
He lets out a sigh of relief. “Good. That’s easier to accept.”
So maybenotjoking then.
He drops to one knee before me, and it’s so unexpected, I almost lose my balance. I grip at his shoulders, looking down at him, wondering why. Then his hands unzip my boot, and it’s so thoughtful I smile. Yet he’s not being gentle; he’s in a rush. The boot’s pulled off, thrown aside, and the other one follows.
“Goddamn riding leathers,” he mutters, tugging on mine. They shift a few inches and snag, revealing the top of my panties. “Impossible to get off in a rush.”
I laugh at the truth of that, but he slides an armaround my legs as he abruptly stands, and I’m over his shoulder. It’s so swift it catches me by surprise, my breath leaving in a whoosh as I’m carried farther into my own apartment, only to be dropped to my back on the couch. Treated like a sack of potatoes.
His hands grip the hems of my pants, and he yanks. They come off easily, thrown aside, leaving me just in my panties, already half-pulled off, hanging down one hip. I move to adjust them, feeling self-conscious, but he gets there first. He’s bending over the arm of the couch, fingers sliding into the waistband, and he strips them down my legs.
I’m naked, and it’s only taken him seconds.
He pauses, standing there, taking me in. I have to fight the urge to cover myself.
“Perfect,” he whispers, half to himself, the word almost reverent. Then his next words are louder. “You’re fucking perfect. Spread your legs. Show me.”
His words make me shiver. It’s one thing being naked before him—it happened so fast anyway. It’s not that I don’t want to be, I do. It’s just… it’s been so long.
I bite at my lip as his gaze runs up my body to my face, a hunger in his eyes that pulls at me. I’m wet, I know I am. And now I have to open myself for him? I’m not sure I can. The seconds stretch. I can feel his eyes on me and I can't make myself move.
Where the hell has my confidence gone?
“Do you fuck the way you fight?”
Apparently not. He’s going to be disappointed.
I’m still trying to summon the strength to do as heasks when his hands close around my ankles, and he drags me along the couch until my ass is up on the arm, my spine curved. I gasp at the suddenness of it, and now my hips are tilted up to him. I’m fully naked, while he’s still half dressed, but worse than that, my sex is lifted to him as if in offering.
My cheeks heat with a blush that’s deeper than I can remember in…forever.
He leans over me, pushing my ankles back as he does, bending my legs, and that only makes it worse. He’s spreading me open because I didn’t do it quickly enough for him, and he’s too strong, pure muscle. It happens in a second, and now I’m not just naked, I’m exposed. More vulnerable than I’ve ever been with another soul.
Then his mouth covers my pussy, tongue licking through my folds, and I gasp at the sensation. No one has ever licked me there. I’ve imagined it, but even in my dreams it was nothing—nothing—like this. All thoughts of protesting die, swept away before they can form. He finds my clit, flicking over it, then pushes his tongue deep into my opening. It pulls another gasp from me which quickly becomes a moan, my legs quivering as his palms hold my thighs back.
I want to say his name, but I can’t draw enough breath, or even think to form words. All that comes out are whimpers and cries as he folds me in half and fucks me with his tongue. It penetrates deeper than I’d have thought possible, his face buried in me so firmly that I can feel his stubble against my folds,rubbing coarse against sensitive skin, a rough contrast to the wet heat of his mouth. Pleasure and sharpness together, making every sensation twice what it was.
It’s almost too much, and I half-kick my legs in reflex. But nothing happens save that his grip tightens. He’s strong enough that I can’t get out from underneath his hold even if I want to. And I don’t, not really, so it doesn’t matter. But some part of me realizes he never asked. He’s just taking.
And for the first time, I’m being driven toward an orgasm by someone other than me, held helpless by his hands and deliciously tortured by the soft, insistent strokes of his tongue. It’s so intense, my whole body is alive, and I’ve never been this aroused, this wet. So wet it’s embarrassing. What must he think of me?
