PG Forte – Let Me Count the Ways
PG Forte – Let Me Count the Ways
I schooled my features into neutrality, glanced up at her face and frowned. “Did I tell you to open your eyes?”
“What?” Her eyes widened in surprise. She stared at me. I stared back.
For the space of maybe three seconds we continued to stare at each other. Then she breathed out a shuddery little sigh, and did as she’d been told.
My hands went back into motion; slowly smoothing across her ribs and up her sides, retracing their previous movement. “These last months, working with you, I’ve been like some little boy with his nose pressed up against the candy store window; admiring all that lusciousness, coveting it, but never expecting to actually have it. Never even expecting to get any closer to it than I was. Until tonight.”
My fingers met each other again, in the center of her chest, and then parted, sweeping outward once more and then down and around. “Tonight, you opened the door. You let me come inside. You should have known what would happen if you did that, Claire.”
“What?” she asked again, breathlessly.
Although I hadn’t so much as touched her breasts, her nipples were hard and had been so almost since I’d started. Now, as I bent close and blew alternating currents of warm and cool air across the tips, she shivered in response. “You should have realized I’d have to taste every last piece of candy. That I’d never be satisfied until I’d sampled everything you had to offer. That, even then, I’d want to sneak back in when you weren’t looking and go for seconds on all my favorites.”
Claire’s throat worked for a moment. “Mike?”
“I’m not looking now, am I?”
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Meg Benjamin – Venus in Blue Jeans
Docia caught her breath as he dropped his shirt to the floor beside her blouse.
She’d never seen a chest that broad before. His pectorals curved down to his flat stomach muscles. A thick pelt of dark hair covered the surface, arrowing down to the waistband of his pants. He looked primal, like a warrior, like someone who’d lurched out of the forest seeking a mate.
Not that he’d have to do much seeking from what she could see. He could probably just crook his finger and a dozen potential mates would come tripping through the woods without further ado.
She forced herself to breathe in and out while she sorted through appropriate adjectives. Magnificent. Glorious. Spectacular.
Oh, very good, Docia. Four years of college English and that’s the best you can do?
Cal raised his eyebrows, questioning.
Docia couldn’t stop herself. She reached toward his chest, burying her fingers in the dark, crinkling hair, touching the point of one brown nipple with her pinky. She heard his quick inhale.
His eyes looked slightly glazed. “Now you,” he gasped.
Docia’s fingers dropped to the button at the waistband of her pants, and suddenly her shoulders stiffened. Right then, she could remember every one of Allie’s scones she’d consumed over the last month, not to mention all those plates of tapas Lee had fed her, laden with cheese and olive oil. And then, of course, she also remembered Donnie’s cracks about her love handles.
Oh well, maybe some men like doughy hips. And she couldn’t do much about spot reducing at the moment. She was who she was, after all. She’d learned that much over the last couple of years.
Docia pushed her pants down to the floor and stepped out of them defiantly. At least she had on some of her better underwear.
Cal watched her for a heartbeat or two, his eyes hooded. Then he stepped toward her, raising his hands to cup her breasts. Docia closed her eyes, feeling the warmth spread outward as the rough calluses of his palms rubbed across her skin. Heat stretched over her body and down to her thighs. His fingers moved and the catch at the front of her bra opened. Her breasts slipped loose as he pushed the straps from her shoulders.
And she stood in front of him, wearing only a scrap of peach-colored silk at her crotch.
Cal stared, his pulse racketing in his ears. There she was again—Botticelli’s Venus with her wild red curls drifting around her face and shoulders. Perfect breasts, high and full. Waist narrowing to a gently rounded stomach. Long, creamy thighs stretching to muscular calves.
Oh God, oh God, oh God. If he was dreaming, this was when he’d wake up, hard and aching.
“Your turn,” she whispered.
He came down to earth with a thump. This was it. The point at which some of his past sexual encounters had come to an abrupt halt. The time when he’d need to get enough blood back into his brain to soothe, to reassure, to explain that, after all, size was relative and bodies did adapt to each other.
But he might as well get it over with.
He unzipped, pushing his slacks and underwear down together, feeling himself spring free. No point in delaying the moment—he wouldn’t get any smaller.
At least he profoundly hoped he wouldn’t.
Docia’s gaze was riveted on his groin. She stared at his cock, as he’d known she would. His throat was dry with wanting her. Somehow he had to figure out how to say all the things he needed to say to get past this moment. All the encouragement and reminders about how well they’d fit. How they were made to fit together. How if she lost her nerve now he’d probably go jump off a cliff somewhere.
She reached for him suddenly, before he realized what she was doing. Cool fingers wrapped around his shaft, measuring him, sliding lightly down the length of him.
“You’re very big.” Her voice sounded husky.
Cal swallowed, nodding. Even if he tried to speak, he figured his voice wouldn’t be more than a croak. And he wasn’t sure he could speak at all as long as her hand stayed where it was currently.
And then she grinned, eyes sparkling. “Fortunately, so am I.”
D. McEntire – Midnight Rose
To Vane’s relief, she finally plopped down on the seat. It wasn’t very graceful, but he knew she was beyond caring about anything.
Rosa burst out, "My hero!" then placed a loud smacking kiss on his cheek and batted her eyelashes.
"Rosa." Vane moved closer to her face so he could speak to her softly. When he did, her glassy eyes fixed on his mouth for several moments, before sliding back up to his eyes. His jaw clenched at her silent invitation, knowing he would have to refuse. It was not the time, nor the place.
Before he could dissuade where her thoughts were obviously leading, Rosa placed her hand behind his head and pulled him down to her mouth.
His heart was beating fast as he warred with himself. Rosa’s kiss was stealing his breath and making him burn for her. He knew her actions were solely the product of the drugs she had been given. He told himself to break the kiss, but found it excruciatingly hard to do.
When Rosa eased away from his lips, he hoped she was coming to her senses, but he quickly found he was wrong. She had released his lips, but kept her hand clasped behind his head as she slid her tongue down his jawline, then down his neck before she sank in her fangs.
Vane jerked. The quick prick on his neck was immediately replaced by something so erotic, so sensual, he had to clamp his mouth shut before he cried out in ecstasy.
He had never had anyone drink from him before. He had certainly drunk from both human and vampire females in the past, but nothing could compare to what Rosa was doing to him.
A part of him soared at such intimacy. He had dreamed of this, craved this for so long. But for Rosa, the desire to feed from him might not be the same. She might be following a compulsion driven by her drug-induced state.
Kelly Jamieson – Rigger
“Slow,” he whispered again, feathering kisses across her cheek, nudging her hair aside, his breath a warm tickle, his mouth a sweet torture. Her eyes fell closed. His body pushed her back into the softness of the bed, lifting her bound wrists above her head, and he kissed her again, soft and sweet, endless, long and slow and deep.
His tongue slid into her mouth and he licked inside, then softly bit her lips. The weight of his body was a delicious pressure and she arched a little to press her breasts harder against him.
She tasted him too, with a drag of her tongue across his bottom lip and he sucked her tongue into his mouth. Heat radiated off him and she felt the fine trembling of his body as the kisses went deeper, hotter, sweeter.
She longed to touch him, feel him, but the ropes were firm as she tested them. Stretched out on her back, her fingers curled into her palms above her head. He lifted his head to study her, the thin ropes still encircling her body, and she felt his eyes move over her like a caress, her nipples tight and needy.
She dipped her chin, then rolled over, arms still outstretched.