Unravel Me

By: Tori St. Claire

She complied without hesitation, and he jerked the dress over her head. It tumbled out of his hands to land at his feet. Brad stared, momentarily incapable of thought. She stood before him wearing black stilettos, matching panties, and nothing else. Her breasts were only large enough to fit his palm, but they were pert and full. Rosy nipples stood at attention, hard little buds he couldn’t wait to feel against his tongue.

And he had no intention of waiting.

As thought slowly returned, he bent and drew one into his mouth. Her back arched, and she let out a moan that threatened to undo him. Closing his eyes, he swirled the nub around his tongue, suckled just enough to bring her forward onto her toes. When her fingers latched onto his shoulders and her nails pricked through his shirt, he couldn’t contain a satisfied groan.

That’s it, baby. Let me take you there.

He fitted his hand at the small of her back and held her steady, taking time with her breast, leading her into the fire that scorched through his bloodstream. He wanted her to fall apart in his hands. But the sexy little sounds that rumbled in her throat were picking away at his resolve. Before they could burrow beneath his skin and do damage, he let her nipple slide off his lips.

Straightening, he exchanged his mouth for his hand and cupped the weighty softness of her breast. Her eyelashes lifted. Wide, wondrous eyes held his. Eyes a man could get lost in if he looked too long.

Brad nuzzled the side of her neck. Ran his tongue over the bounding vein alongside her throat. She shuddered, and her head tipped backward, spilling her glorious hair over his fingers at the small of her back. He slid his hand up her spine and through those long silken lengths. Tilting her head to the side, he grazed his teeth across her dainty earlobe. “I bet you taste like chocolate,” he whispered.

Her quiet whimper tightened his body into hewn steel.

“Sweet like the wine tonight.” He took her nipple between thumb and forefinger and gave it a slight twist. The gasp she let out ricocheted through him. To hell with waiting—if she wasn’t going to ask, he’d take matters into his own hands. He tugged on her hair, tipped her face to his. “Kiss me, sweetheart.”

The feathery brush of her lips snapped through him like a live current. He willed himself to remain still, waited for the parting of her lips, the hesitant stroke of her tongue. It was everything he could do to not crumple her close and savage that pretty mouth, though God knew he wanted to. He counted backward from ten, then twenty, giving her time to get comfortable with him. Then, he surrendered to the wild need that gnawed at his gut. Wrapping an arm around her waist, he dragged her body flush with his and took control of the kiss.

Her hands skimmed up his chest and her nails scraped his scalp. A throaty groan rumbled between them, but Brad didn’t know who made the sound. He dropped his hand to her bottom, squeezing as his hips thrust forward. She ground against his swollen cock. A shock of ecstasy surged down his spine.

Fuck—he was in trouble. He’d known he would be, but he hadn’t anticipated anything quite like this. Hadn’t expected that one kiss would leave him wanting to shove her against the wall, wrap her ankles around his waist, and sink inside her with abandon. Hell, he couldn’t remember the last time he’d experienced true abandon. His past relationships were too mired in conflicting needs and desires. But this woman…good God, he’d never encountered a connection like this.

Brad tore his mouth from hers in desperate need of a measure of distance.

“Tell me,” she managed between gasps.

He chuckled. “Sweetheart, you’re doing everything just right.”

“No.” She shook her head, her voice clearer. “Tell me.”

Oh, holy crap—he couldn’t possibly be interpreting that correctly. Not that he had any objections. Truth to tell, the last woman who had satisfied his darker need of domination had been in college. He just wasn’t entirely certain this woman, this successful woman who knew how to take care of herself, really knew what she was asking. Likely this was some temporary fascination that she’d run from once it became uncomfortable.

There was only one way to find out—test the water with something relatively non-threatening. He trailed a fingertip down her breast and flicked her nipple with his thumb. Inclining his head toward the wide window behind them, he suggested, “Let’s move this somewhere else, first.”

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