He’d had a feelingwiredmight meanhorny,but he had been the one with the hard-on. It was silly to point out he was wired, too.
“Can you tell me when you can’t kiss or touch or do other fun grown-up things?”
He chuckled. “Because you call them ‘grown-up things.’”
“What would you have me say?” she giggled.
“Hmm. Tell me the things you would want me to do.”
Her breath caught. “Dirty talk? Oh, no. Never.”
He turned her so she could face him. “No dirty talk. Tell me what you want me to do. When we can.”
Her eyes were wide, her lips parted. Her desire scented the air. She was almost nude, in his bed, and smelling like the sweetest thing he’d ever imagined. “Atlas …”
“Tell me.”
“You would kiss me and peel me out of my clothes. And then you would slide into me …”
“Whoa, foreplay, Lilliane. You skipped a couple steps.”
She grinned. “Yeah? What was I supposed to say?”
“I would peel you out of your clothes. Really take my time, and then I would kiss my way down your body until I reached your pussy. I would kiss it until you screamed my name. Maybe I’d make you come twice. Maybe I’d tease you with my fingers. Bring you to the edge, but pull out just before you come again.ThenI’d slide into you. Slow … real slow.”
“Atlas,” she gasped, her eyes shut, her breath fast. “You are killing me.” She opened her eyes, and he watched as she slid her hand down her shorts and shivered as she undoubtedly touched herself. “Say it again?”
“What are you doing?” he asked, sitting up. Trouble. She was trouble, and she was going to kill him. This is how he was going to die … of want. He would die of want for Lilliane Longborn in his own damn bed.
“I’m doing what you won’t do.”
He hissed out a breath, and before he could stop himself, he had rolled on top of her, pulling her hand from her sleep shorts. He lifted her arms over her head and pinned them in one large palm. His other hand trailed down the side of her body. He followed the same path on the way up, but he stopped at the hem of her shorts. He tugged them down, staring down at the soft, creamy skin he uncovered. Her mound was bare and already slick with her arousal.
He groaned at the sight of her. He released her hands but held her gaze. She understood and didn’t move. He pulled her tank top over her hand and dragged it slowly up her arms before tossing it over the bed.
“You’re so damn beautiful.” He thumbed her raspberry nipples and leaned down to capture one in his mouth. He licked his way across to repeat the gesture. He tongued the hard nub, twirling around it while one of his hands separated her thighs. His fingers parted her folds with ease. “Oh, trouble. So wet. So fucking wet.” He paused, breathing deeply, before he came on the spot. “Shit.”
He couldn’t stop himself.
He pinned her hips to the bed and dove for her core. He tongued her slit, and her taste exploded sweetness in his mouth. He groaned and took a long, slow lick of her. She bucked against him, crying out his name, but he held her down.
“This is what you wanted, trouble. You wanted me to touch you.” He flicked her clit as one finger slid into her. He curled it up, and she cried out again. “I’ll touch you, make you come.” He had lapped and sucked at her clit until she came hard and fast, grinding against him and screaming his name.
Even now, playing it over in his mind to get himself off, he could remember the taste of her. He could’ve done it over and over, but Lilliane had been boneless. She fell asleep nude in his arms.
That had been one hell of a night, but he had snuck out of the house before she woke up, and he was just getting back in time for bed again. Hopefully, she wouldn’t want a repeat performance.
Atlas went to his bedroom, but the place was empty. “Lilliane?” he called out down the hallway.
She didn’t respond, but he could hear someone … her … moving around downstairs.
He found her in the living room, queuing up her reality TV shows. She was wrapped in a blanket and a few pillows were fluffed at her back.
“What are you doing?” he asked.
“I’m getting ready for bed.”
“You’re not sleeping on the couch,” he said.
