Page 4 of Trusting the Fall
“I like dancing with you, Lover Boy.” I nip at his finger this time. “But I bet it’d be a lot more fun without our clothes on.”
Before my mind can catch up, his hand moves to clutch my neck, and he pulls my lips against his.
It’s thunder cracking in the night. A wildfire burning without control. A tornado thrashing over the sea. My body and mind are victims to a storm of passion that I don’t want to be saved from.
He could obliterate my soul and leave me to rebuild the fragments long after he’s done the damage.
Because if this is how he kisses, I want to wear the scars of his affection.
I’m in trouble.
2
Asymphonyofrapidfootsteps, falling keys and clattering picture frames fill my ears as our bodies navigate the dark hallway.
Without pulling my mouth from the hungry lips that devour mine, I keep one hand woven into the Viking’s impossibly soft hair, while my other feels along the hallway for my bedroom door.
I almost cry in relief when my hand makes contact with the doorknob. Lover Boy finds the skin of my neck and sucks as if he’s consuming my soul. Now I’m crying out for a whole new reason. A shudder skips down my spine at the feel of his wet, warm lips leaving their mark.
I’ve never really been one for hickeys, but I’m putty in this man’s hands. I’m at the point where I’ll let him do just about anything, especially if he’s going to make me feel this damn good, and we haven’t even got to the good part yet. The naked part.
I push the door open, which he catches with lightning-quick reflexes and throws it back, closing us in the darkness.
He traces kisses up my neck. “I can sense you’re a woman who knows what she wants. So, tell me, Bombshell. How do you want me to make you come first?”
I’m so fucking wet right now.
“Are you hungry, Lover Boy?” I ask while I let my hands roam over his cut shoulders, walking us back toward my bed.
The soft moonlight filtering through my curtains paints the room in a dreamy blue glow, with just enough light to make out our bodies.
His round biceps and corded forearms give me confidence that this man can absolutely handle a night of orgasmic perfection. Man, I hope I’m reading that right. I want to come, and I want to come hard. I hooked up with a guy a few weeks ago who was great with his fingers but not so much with his tongue. I love having my pussy licked, and this Viking looks like he can make a meal out of me.
“Ravenous,” he says.
Grabbing onto the hem of his shirt, I pull it over his head. I gravitate toward bulkier men. Enjoying the way I feel dainty in their grasp but also liking the power that comes with making a big guy crumble between my thighs.
This guy is a heavenly mix of thick muscles and sculpted abs. He’s giving boy-scout-meets-daddy vibes and I’m fucking here for it. Even with his pretty boy face, light scruff and high cheekbones, I still want to ride that face like a cowgirl.
I put a hand on his chest, humming my appreciation at the smooth skin of his pronounced pecs, instructing him to stay in place while I take a step back.
I untie the straps behind my neck and let the panels of my dress fall, exposing my peaked, pierced nipples. Pride consumes me as I watch the way he bites his lip at the sight of them.
I sway my hips and push the gathered fabric down my thighs, letting the dress pool at my feet. I kick it aside and step out of my heels, leaving me in a barely-there, pink thong.
“Do I get to unwrap the rest of my present?”
My heart is beating like a drum, slamming against my chest so hard. The force of it almost makes me jump. This man looks at me like I’m a gift. He’d be right in that assessment, and I like to reward good behaviour, so I sit down on the end of the bed and part my legs.
“Depends. Will you make it good for me?”
He drops to his knees, a hand landing on either side of my legs, and pulls me closer to the edge. “What’s the magic word?”
“Eat my pussy,” I say as I lean in and place a deep kiss on his lips.
He nips at me, pulling back with a raised eyebrow.
“Please.” I draw out the word with a purr, and his hands glide up my thighs, hooking around the thin waistband at my hips.
