“Don’t close your eyes. Watch the city as I touch you.”
No wonder he did what he did. He was a man in tune with pleasure. A man thoroughly connected to his senses, which was all the more unusual, given his background as a numbers and logic guy. But he also had some intuitive sense of the physical.
Or simply the physical of her. His tongue flicked against the back of her knee, and she felt her legs wobble. He steadied her, his strong hands tight on her thighs as he kissed his way up her legs, pressing his lips against the back of her thighs now. First one leg. Then the other. Higher and higher still, the fabric of her skirt rose in his hands as he exposed her flesh for him. Soon he’d pushed her skirt above her butt, and his sinful mouth was leaving a hot, wet trail of kisses against the crease where her ass met her legs.
“Light blue,” he murmured as he slid his finger under the edge of her lacy panties. “Gorgeous, sexy, perfect sky blue.”
“Yes. You like?”
“So much I want to keep them,” he said as he returned his mouth to her skin.
Pleasure pulsed through her veins. She gripped the railing tighter as the sensations spread, starting deep in her belly, radiating to her fingertips, her toes, the ends of her hair, as he brushed those soft lips against her body. He kissed her with a kind of reverence, with a deep appreciation for her body. He kissed her as if she were the most sensual person he’d ever touched. As if she were made for passion, for pleasure, for this kind of bold desire that ran rampant through her cells.
Because everything he’d done so far had been a slice of heaven. A heaven for lovers of the flesh.
He ran his nose across her upper thigh, then pressed a kiss between her legs, his lips grazing the soaked panel of her panties. Useless thing. A completely useless piece of fabric, since the way he’d touched her had turned them hot and damp.
“Take them off,” he said roughly.
She obliged, sliding her panties down her legs, then lifting them over her ankles as she stepped out of them.
“Give them to me.”
She handed them to him, and he stuffed them into his pocket.
“You can have them back later. Or not,” he said with a glint in his blue eyes.
“That will probably be a not.”
He stood and gently placed his hand on her chin, turning her gaze back to the sky. “Watch the city,” he told her, as he pressed his chest against her back, his long, tall body aligned with hers.
Anticipation built between them, the tantalizing wonder of what would come next. Only he knew. She was placing her pleasure in his hands, and that’s exactly where she wanted it to be.
A soft hum whirred through the air. At first, she wasn’t sure what it was. Then she recognized the noise. The way it signaled a response in her body. How the sound tapped into her deepest core, a reminder of something she loved.
Assistance.
One hand gripped her hip, and the other slid down her belly, dipping between her legs as he tugged her closer. Her breath fled her chest. The thrill of not knowing ignited her more, and she felt a rush of heat between her legs. She wanted him to feel it too. To know what he was doing to her. She was After Hours Michelle with him, so she let go of her other self, allowing herself to fully be the sexy, alluring woman who appeared when Jack Sullivan was inches away. “Touch me,” she said.
She felt it. The first press against her throbbing clit. The slide through her wet folds. The pressure from something that wasn’t his finger. Something that had been made. That had been created to bring her bliss.
“What is it?” she asked in between staccato breaths.
“It’s The Lola,” he said in a hot, husky voice, whispering in her ear as he rubbed a small toy against her aching pussy. She looked down—he held a sleek circular device between two fingers, one finger through a silver hole in the middle. The toy was like a large ring, made of the same soft material the world’s best pleasure toys came in. Only this one didn’t just stimulate her with vibrations. Somehow, the toy felt like a tongue against her. Like fast, intense flicks from the most wonderful, amazing, fantastic tongue she’d ever felt. Like Jack today. Times ten.
It was that good.
“I don’t have this one,” she said, in between gasps and moans.
“I know. It’s new. They say it feels fantastic against the skin,” he said, rubbing the vibrator against her. “Tell me if it does.”
She cried out. “Oh, yes.”
She felt as if her body belonged to this toy, to the intensity of the pleasure strumming through her blood and bones. It owned her.
“Does it make you want more of me?”
“So much more,” she moaned.
“This part,” he said, slowing only to press the soft middle section to her clit, the beads beneath the surface rotating against her, simulating the intoxicating sensations of a tongue flicking against her. “Does that feel like the way I licked your pussy earlier today?” he asked in a whisper, his breath hot against her skin.
“Yes. Oh, God. Yes.”
“I can make this feel like a soft swirl, or like I’m fucking you with my tongue,” he said, and began cycling through the levels of vibration. Her vision blurred from the sweet intensity. She wasn’t sure how she was still standing. “I can show you worlds of pleasure.”
“I want it,” she said, now begging because this was a new land of desire he’d taken her to, and she didn’t ever want to leave.
Working the toy expertly between her legs, he yanked her body closer, his erection hitting her backside. His voice was low and dirty as he growled in her ear. “This is what I can do to you for thirty nights.”