“God, Max. Please. Oh, God, please.” I was insane with needing more. He licked up the column of my neck, pausing just below the lobe of my left ear.
“Please what, Samantha? What do you want now? I gave you what you asked for, didn’t I?”
“Yes.” I wriggled. “Give me more. I need more of you. I want you, Max. I need you.”
“Okay, baby.” He nipped at my ear. “I’m going to give you what you need. Eventually.”
I almost wept. “I want to touch you.”
“Not yet.” The tip of his tongue touched the shell of my ear. “Pull up your skirt, Samantha. Pull it up around your waist.”
My hands were almost numb from being above my head, but I managed to lower them until I could get a grip on the material of my skirt. Gathering it handful by handful, I rucked it up around my middle, baring my legs and the tiny scrap of silk that passed for panties. I knew they were already wet with my arousal.
Once I had the skirt in place, Max began trailing his lips down my neck, past my boobs, pausing at my stomach to trace my navel with his tongue and then kneeling in front of me. My legs shook a little with anticipation. With one quick jerk, he ripped my panties from my body.
“Spread your legs, baby. Open for me.”
I didn’t have any choice. I widened my stance, shivering when I heard Max’s hum of appreciation. His fingers parted me, exploring my slick folds, and then his mouth was on me.
I cried out, angling my hips to push even closer to him. My fingers clutched at his short hair as though I could somehow keep him from moving away. Pleasure spiraled within me, building to a place where words no longer meant anything to me, where all that existed was his mouth on me. Every cell inside me was screaming toward completion, yearning for that crescendo of fulfillment—
“Don’t come, Samantha. Not yet.” He didn’t move from between my legs, but I heard his voice loud and clear anyway. “Hold back. I want it to be spectacular.”
“Trust me, it will be.” I clenched my teeth. “If you don’t want me to come, maybe you shouldn’t be sucking on my clit. But God, don’t stop.”
He broke away from me. “Can’t have it both ways. But don’t worry. I’m not done with you.” Hopping to his feet with dexterity admirable in a guy so tall and built, he brushed my hands away from where I’d been clutching the skirt around my waist. “Let’s get all of this out of our way, shall we?”
Max eased the skirt off me, and I stepped out of it. Rising to stand, he bent to kiss my lips again, while at the same time he stripped off my shirt, breaking the kiss to pull the top over my head.
“One of us here is overdressed or underdressed.” I laid a hand on the waistband of his jeans. “I’d start getting you naked, but I don’t want to get in trouble.” I kept a teasing note in my voice so that he knew I was playing with him, just as he had with me.
“Feel free.” His words sounded thick with lust and need, and I realized that at the moment, I had the upper hand.
Slowly and intentionally, I tugged his shirt from where it was tucked into his jeans and then eased my hands underneath to trace his muscled abs. When my fingers brushed over his flat nipples, he hissed in a breath.
“Take it off.” I plucked at the shirt. “Take it all off, and let me watch.”
The tip of his tongue darted out to wet his lips, and crossing his arms in front of him, he pulled it over his head in one fluid, drool-inducing movement.
Yowza.
Max tossed the shirt across the room before he unbuttoned his jeans and slid down the zipper. When he slid them down, his boxers went with them, leaving all of him completely bare to my eyes. For a good solid minute, I simply stared.
I’d had a conservative number of lovers; although I wasn’t shy about sex, neither was I interested in jumping between the sheets with every man who caught my eye. When it came to naked males, I’d seen my share, and most of them had been decent specimens. But not one of them came close to Max Remington.
His chest was the kind that inspired poetry in women who were more literary than me. It was broad, with perfectly shaped pecs, and dusted with light brown hair that led in the happiest of trails down the center of his abs to ... oh, holy cats. That happy trail didn’t just lead to joy; I was fairly certain it led straight to nirvana, because the erect cock at the end was utter perfection.
“Are you finished ogling me?” There was faint humor in his voice, tinged with a little self-deprecating. Not that he had anything to be deprecating about. Had I said yowza before? What was even higher than yowza on the wow chart?
“Uh, not hardly.” I reached for him, but he caught my hand in his and raised it to his lips.
“Not yet.” As he pressed a kiss to the knuckles, his eyes stayed glued to mine, smoldering. “I’m not done with you.”
“I should hope not.” I meant it as a retort, but the sentence ended on a gasp as Max turned my hand over, dropped an open-mouthed kiss to my palm and then sucked my pointer finger between his lips.
“Tell me, Samantha.” He paused to swirl his tongue around the next finger. “How do you like sex? Slow, with a lot of finesse, or fast and hard?”
My heart thudded against my ribs. “It depends. Sometimes I want to be made love to ... to have someone take his time and touch me for as long as it takes to get the job done. And other times, I want to be handled hard and taken fast. It’s a matter of mood.”
