“If you’re going to do a shot, you’ve got to do it right.”
Genevieve lifted one cool brow as she laid the shot glass on the counter, licked her full lower lip. And nearly had him coming in his f**king jeans. “I didn’t realize there was a wrong way to do this.”
“Sweetheart, there’s a wrong way to do everything.” And then he was putting his hands on her waist and lifting her up so that her sweet ass was on the center island, her legs just a little bit open.
Stepping between them before she could change her mind, he slipped yet another god-awful suit jacket off her shoulders—he was seriously going to have to do something about her wardrobe. Maybe if he ripped it all off her …
Licking a trail from the hollow of her throat to her breastbone, he savored the taste of her.
“Mmm, salty.”
She blushed, then leaned back on her hands so that her br**sts were thrust forward. “It’s a hundred degrees in the shade. Hard not to sweat.”
It took all his self-control to take things slowly when all he really wanted to do was to eat her alive.
“I wasn’t complaining,” he murmured as he trailed his tongue over the curve of first one breast and then the other. Then he slammed back the shot of tequila he’d poured for her and finished it off by biting into a lime slice.
Her mouth was slightly open, her eyes wide as she stared at his lips. “That’s the right way to do a tequila shot?”
He loved her voice, the syrupy sweetness was a turn-on even without the hard-ass tone she deliberately injected into it. With the hard-ass tone, it was irresistible. “It’s the best way.”
“I bet.”
He poured another shot. Handed it to her. “Here. You try.”
He shrugged out of his T-shirt and nearly smiled as she did the same. Would have, if his first look at her body hadn’t brought him all the way to the edge. She was still covered in little bruises, the love bites he’d given her the last time they’d been together. It was hard to imagine that he’d done that to her, had marked her as he’d marked no other woman. Had claimed her as he’d never had the desire to do before.
Maybe he was a Neanderthal, because looking at her covered in his marks—seeing her proudly wearing the evidence of his desire for her—turned him so hard and fast his vision blurred.
Shit, how he wanted this woman. Was dangerously close to becoming obsessed with her.
Her sexy pink tongue darted out, swiped across her top lip and then her bottom one, as if she couldn’t quite decide where to lick. And every thought he had or might have had got lost in the wild need pumping through him.
Groaning, he tangled a hand in her hair and urged her closer. “Come on, sweetheart,” he whispered. “Taste me.”
And she did, her mouth lowering to his chest so slowly that he wanted to howl. Then her tongue was on him, swirling in circles over his right pec, darting out to tease his nipple. Once, twice. Again and again until it was all he could do to keep from ripping off her pants and sliding into her right there.
“You taste good, Cole.” It was a whisper, but he heard it and his body reacted, his arousal ratcheting up another notch. Or twelve. Fuck—who would have thought it was possible to be this turned on and not come?
“So do you, baby. God, so do you.” He reached over, put a lime slice in his mouth. Concentrated on the bitterness of it as her sweet mouth fastened on to his neck and began to suck.
When she lifted her lips from his skin, he nearly shouted in disappointment. But it was so damn sexy to see her take the shot glass, to watch as she rubbed the cool glass over one cheek and then the other.
He felt himself grow harder, felt himself leak just a little as she dipped her tongue into the icy cold liquid. He clenched his fists, told himself not to rush her. That it would be sweeter if she took her time.
And was it ever. Her eyes met his, clung, for long seconds before she tossed her head back and slid the tequila down her throat. Then she was reaching up, grabbing the back of his head, pulling his mouth down to hers. And biting the lime he still had between his lips.
He nearly came, had to grit his teeth against the orgasm that rose in him—sharp and clean and demanding. Fuck, this woman was turning him inside out.
And he was loving every second of it.
“You want another one?” Was that his voice? So low and feral, as if all that was civilized had been stripped from him.
“I’d rather have you.”
Her bold honesty went straight through him, turning up the raging inferno inside of him until he feared spontaneous combustion.
“The two aren’t mutually exclusive, you know.” He tipped the tequila bottle slightly, let a few drops dribble onto her br**sts and down her stomach.
She gasped as the cold liquid hit her, arched her back so that her ni**les were front and center. Because he was dying for another taste of her, he bent down, followed the trail the alcohol had made with delicate flicks of his tongue.
Then, because he couldn’t resist, he tilted the bottle so that the tequila coated his index finger. He swirled it first over one of her ni**les and then the other before bending his head and circling the hard buds with his tongue. He sucked until all the alcohol was gone, savoring its rich burn as it slid down his throat.
Bringing his hands to Genevieve’s shoulders, he pressed her back slowly until she was fully open to him, resting on her elbows, her beautiful br**sts bare to him. He paused for a moment, couldn’t move, was transfixed by the picture she made.
Her cheeks were flushed, her eyes heavy with desire, her lips slick from the shot she’d taken. Laid out on his counter like the most delectable of desserts, her legs open and dangling over the edge, she was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen.
“I may never take a shot any other way.” He lifted the bottle, poured a steady stream of the liquor over her stomach.
She gasped as it ran down her sides, pooled in her navel, and he bent forward, sipping from her slowly. Savoring the spicy-sweet taste of her that mingled with the smooth heat of the aged tequila.
She moaned, a low, sexy sound that had him glancing up, wanting to see her face. Needing to know that she was as into this as he was.
She had a slice of lime clenched between her front teeth and he groaned as he swooped down, bit it, taking it into his mouth as he longed to take her.
“My turn,” she whispered, grabbing his hand and sucking his tequila-coated finger into her mouth.
His knees actually shook as she twirled her tongue around his long finger, stroking it up and down in the same rhythm she’d used four nights before on his dick. His heart was pounding out of control, the need to f**k her an all-consuming ache inside of him.
“Genevieve, baby.” He tried to retrieve his hand—along with his sanity—but she lifted her arms and curled her body around his arm, holding him like he was a prize she had won. And then, just when he didn’t think he could get any more turned on, just when his knees were locking and his c**k throbbing, she bit down, hard, on the tip of his finger and shot his lust-crazed body into overdrive.
He ripped his finger out of her mouth, slid out of her embrace as he strived to get himself under some kind of control. Taking a deep breath, he reached over and grabbed the bottle with a hand that shook so badly it was all he could do to get the tequila in the glass. He handed it to her, but she set it aside. Hooked her fingers in the front belt loops of his jeans and tugged until his c**k was right up against her pussy. “I’m more interested in the salt.”
Shit. Fuck. Damn. He wasn’t going to last. He could feel her heat through her pants, through his jeans. She had barely touched him and already he was going up in flames, his body so far out of his control that he wondered if he’d ever get it back.
And then she put her mouth on him and he knew he didn’t stand a chance. Her tongue—her wicked, wild, wonderful tongue—was everywhere at once. Flicking over his collarbone, sliding up his neck to toy with his earlobe. Moving lower to press into his chest.
“Genevieve, baby, stop.” He moved his hands to her head, clenched his fists in her hair. Tried to pull her off.
But she was having none of it, her hands slipping around his waist as her nails dug into the muscles of his back. The flickers of pain were exquisite, the feel of her clawing him unbelievably sexy.
“Stop,” he gasped again, but even he didn’t know if he meant it anymore. All he knew was that he would die if he wasn’t inside of her soon, would come in his pants like a teenager with his first girlfriend. The humiliation was almost more than he could take, even as the incredible desire, the unbelievable experience of wanting her this much, only pushed him higher.
She lifted her head, looked at him with passion-dazed eyes. Smiled wickedly and murmured, “Oh, I don’t think so,” right before she unbuttoned his fly.
Her hand slipped inside, closing around him firmly enough to have him seeing stars. Eyes crossing, h*ps thrusting, he pumped against her for a few seconds before reaching down and disentangling himself.
“You don’t want this to be over before it begins, do you?” he muttered in response to her quizzical look.
“I don’t care. I just want to watch you come again.”
He groaned, yanked her off the counter so he could strip her of her pants and pink lace underwear. “I like this,” he said as he sunk to his knees in front of her, twirling the panties around his index finger. “You don’t look like a girl who would go for pink lace.”
She put her hands on his shoulders, arched against him. “Looks can be deceiving.”
“I’ll say.” He stood, shoved his own jeans down and off, so that he was standing there—in the middle of his kitchen—as n**ed as Genevieve. And she was taking her time looking him over, her eyes eating him up as if he were a bar of Godiva chocolate. For a moment he felt oddly vulnerable, totally exposed, but then she was pressing her body against his, and everything fled but the need to make her feel as good as he did.
Sinking into the nearest chair, he pulled her onto his lap, had her straddle him so that her hot pu**y rested directly over his randy, rioting cock. She gasped and wiggled and he slid between her labia, the tip of his c**k resting against her clitoris.
It was his turn to gasp, to shudder as her warm heat enfolded him in a new way. And then she was moving, her slick, hot body sliding against him, and he almost forgot how to breathe.
“You feel amazing,” he muttered, his hands digging into her sexy, curvy ass.
“I think it’s you.” She moved forward and backward slowly, so goddamned slowly he wanted to shout, but it was the most incredible feeling he’d ever had—this being in her without being in her, being cradled by her body without the heavy thrusting that would take him all the way inside.
She slid back until the tip of his c**k was poised at her entrance, rising on her tiptoes to torment him for a minute with her incredible heat. And then she was moving forward so that his dick rasped at her pu**y again.
“You’re killing me, sweetheart.” He stroked his hands up her back, tangled them in the chignon that was just starting to fall out. Tugged and watched with eyes he knew were turning wild as her hair cascaded around her shoulders and down her back.
God, there really was miles of the stuff—soft and sweet-smelling and so sexy it had him arching against her even as he tangled his fists in it and tugged.
“Cole!” Her voice was low, startled and incredibly excited—so excited that he did it again as he rolled his h*ps against her.
She whimpered, arched, her eyes closing as the pleasure went through her and he couldn’t resist a grin. Or doing it a third time as he realized just how much Genevieve got off on the little licks of pain.
Shifting his hands so that they were at the nape of her neck, he pulled down hard enough to have her tilting her head to the side and opening her eyes. Then he lowered his mouth to hers, sucked her lower lip between his teeth and bit softly.
Genevieve lifted one cool brow as she laid the shot glass on the counter, licked her full lower lip. And nearly had him coming in his f**king jeans. “I didn’t realize there was a wrong way to do this.”
“Sweetheart, there’s a wrong way to do everything.” And then he was putting his hands on her waist and lifting her up so that her sweet ass was on the center island, her legs just a little bit open.
Stepping between them before she could change her mind, he slipped yet another god-awful suit jacket off her shoulders—he was seriously going to have to do something about her wardrobe. Maybe if he ripped it all off her …
Licking a trail from the hollow of her throat to her breastbone, he savored the taste of her.
“Mmm, salty.”
She blushed, then leaned back on her hands so that her br**sts were thrust forward. “It’s a hundred degrees in the shade. Hard not to sweat.”
It took all his self-control to take things slowly when all he really wanted to do was to eat her alive.
“I wasn’t complaining,” he murmured as he trailed his tongue over the curve of first one breast and then the other. Then he slammed back the shot of tequila he’d poured for her and finished it off by biting into a lime slice.
Her mouth was slightly open, her eyes wide as she stared at his lips. “That’s the right way to do a tequila shot?”
He loved her voice, the syrupy sweetness was a turn-on even without the hard-ass tone she deliberately injected into it. With the hard-ass tone, it was irresistible. “It’s the best way.”
“I bet.”
He poured another shot. Handed it to her. “Here. You try.”
He shrugged out of his T-shirt and nearly smiled as she did the same. Would have, if his first look at her body hadn’t brought him all the way to the edge. She was still covered in little bruises, the love bites he’d given her the last time they’d been together. It was hard to imagine that he’d done that to her, had marked her as he’d marked no other woman. Had claimed her as he’d never had the desire to do before.
Maybe he was a Neanderthal, because looking at her covered in his marks—seeing her proudly wearing the evidence of his desire for her—turned him so hard and fast his vision blurred.
Shit, how he wanted this woman. Was dangerously close to becoming obsessed with her.
Her sexy pink tongue darted out, swiped across her top lip and then her bottom one, as if she couldn’t quite decide where to lick. And every thought he had or might have had got lost in the wild need pumping through him.
Groaning, he tangled a hand in her hair and urged her closer. “Come on, sweetheart,” he whispered. “Taste me.”
And she did, her mouth lowering to his chest so slowly that he wanted to howl. Then her tongue was on him, swirling in circles over his right pec, darting out to tease his nipple. Once, twice. Again and again until it was all he could do to keep from ripping off her pants and sliding into her right there.
“You taste good, Cole.” It was a whisper, but he heard it and his body reacted, his arousal ratcheting up another notch. Or twelve. Fuck—who would have thought it was possible to be this turned on and not come?
“So do you, baby. God, so do you.” He reached over, put a lime slice in his mouth. Concentrated on the bitterness of it as her sweet mouth fastened on to his neck and began to suck.
When she lifted her lips from his skin, he nearly shouted in disappointment. But it was so damn sexy to see her take the shot glass, to watch as she rubbed the cool glass over one cheek and then the other.
He felt himself grow harder, felt himself leak just a little as she dipped her tongue into the icy cold liquid. He clenched his fists, told himself not to rush her. That it would be sweeter if she took her time.
And was it ever. Her eyes met his, clung, for long seconds before she tossed her head back and slid the tequila down her throat. Then she was reaching up, grabbing the back of his head, pulling his mouth down to hers. And biting the lime he still had between his lips.
He nearly came, had to grit his teeth against the orgasm that rose in him—sharp and clean and demanding. Fuck, this woman was turning him inside out.
And he was loving every second of it.
“You want another one?” Was that his voice? So low and feral, as if all that was civilized had been stripped from him.
“I’d rather have you.”
Her bold honesty went straight through him, turning up the raging inferno inside of him until he feared spontaneous combustion.
“The two aren’t mutually exclusive, you know.” He tipped the tequila bottle slightly, let a few drops dribble onto her br**sts and down her stomach.
She gasped as the cold liquid hit her, arched her back so that her ni**les were front and center. Because he was dying for another taste of her, he bent down, followed the trail the alcohol had made with delicate flicks of his tongue.
Then, because he couldn’t resist, he tilted the bottle so that the tequila coated his index finger. He swirled it first over one of her ni**les and then the other before bending his head and circling the hard buds with his tongue. He sucked until all the alcohol was gone, savoring its rich burn as it slid down his throat.
Bringing his hands to Genevieve’s shoulders, he pressed her back slowly until she was fully open to him, resting on her elbows, her beautiful br**sts bare to him. He paused for a moment, couldn’t move, was transfixed by the picture she made.
Her cheeks were flushed, her eyes heavy with desire, her lips slick from the shot she’d taken. Laid out on his counter like the most delectable of desserts, her legs open and dangling over the edge, she was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen.
“I may never take a shot any other way.” He lifted the bottle, poured a steady stream of the liquor over her stomach.
She gasped as it ran down her sides, pooled in her navel, and he bent forward, sipping from her slowly. Savoring the spicy-sweet taste of her that mingled with the smooth heat of the aged tequila.
She moaned, a low, sexy sound that had him glancing up, wanting to see her face. Needing to know that she was as into this as he was.
She had a slice of lime clenched between her front teeth and he groaned as he swooped down, bit it, taking it into his mouth as he longed to take her.
“My turn,” she whispered, grabbing his hand and sucking his tequila-coated finger into her mouth.
His knees actually shook as she twirled her tongue around his long finger, stroking it up and down in the same rhythm she’d used four nights before on his dick. His heart was pounding out of control, the need to f**k her an all-consuming ache inside of him.
“Genevieve, baby.” He tried to retrieve his hand—along with his sanity—but she lifted her arms and curled her body around his arm, holding him like he was a prize she had won. And then, just when he didn’t think he could get any more turned on, just when his knees were locking and his c**k throbbing, she bit down, hard, on the tip of his finger and shot his lust-crazed body into overdrive.
He ripped his finger out of her mouth, slid out of her embrace as he strived to get himself under some kind of control. Taking a deep breath, he reached over and grabbed the bottle with a hand that shook so badly it was all he could do to get the tequila in the glass. He handed it to her, but she set it aside. Hooked her fingers in the front belt loops of his jeans and tugged until his c**k was right up against her pussy. “I’m more interested in the salt.”
Shit. Fuck. Damn. He wasn’t going to last. He could feel her heat through her pants, through his jeans. She had barely touched him and already he was going up in flames, his body so far out of his control that he wondered if he’d ever get it back.
And then she put her mouth on him and he knew he didn’t stand a chance. Her tongue—her wicked, wild, wonderful tongue—was everywhere at once. Flicking over his collarbone, sliding up his neck to toy with his earlobe. Moving lower to press into his chest.
“Genevieve, baby, stop.” He moved his hands to her head, clenched his fists in her hair. Tried to pull her off.
But she was having none of it, her hands slipping around his waist as her nails dug into the muscles of his back. The flickers of pain were exquisite, the feel of her clawing him unbelievably sexy.
“Stop,” he gasped again, but even he didn’t know if he meant it anymore. All he knew was that he would die if he wasn’t inside of her soon, would come in his pants like a teenager with his first girlfriend. The humiliation was almost more than he could take, even as the incredible desire, the unbelievable experience of wanting her this much, only pushed him higher.
She lifted her head, looked at him with passion-dazed eyes. Smiled wickedly and murmured, “Oh, I don’t think so,” right before she unbuttoned his fly.
Her hand slipped inside, closing around him firmly enough to have him seeing stars. Eyes crossing, h*ps thrusting, he pumped against her for a few seconds before reaching down and disentangling himself.
“You don’t want this to be over before it begins, do you?” he muttered in response to her quizzical look.
“I don’t care. I just want to watch you come again.”
He groaned, yanked her off the counter so he could strip her of her pants and pink lace underwear. “I like this,” he said as he sunk to his knees in front of her, twirling the panties around his index finger. “You don’t look like a girl who would go for pink lace.”
She put her hands on his shoulders, arched against him. “Looks can be deceiving.”
“I’ll say.” He stood, shoved his own jeans down and off, so that he was standing there—in the middle of his kitchen—as n**ed as Genevieve. And she was taking her time looking him over, her eyes eating him up as if he were a bar of Godiva chocolate. For a moment he felt oddly vulnerable, totally exposed, but then she was pressing her body against his, and everything fled but the need to make her feel as good as he did.
Sinking into the nearest chair, he pulled her onto his lap, had her straddle him so that her hot pu**y rested directly over his randy, rioting cock. She gasped and wiggled and he slid between her labia, the tip of his c**k resting against her clitoris.
It was his turn to gasp, to shudder as her warm heat enfolded him in a new way. And then she was moving, her slick, hot body sliding against him, and he almost forgot how to breathe.
“You feel amazing,” he muttered, his hands digging into her sexy, curvy ass.
“I think it’s you.” She moved forward and backward slowly, so goddamned slowly he wanted to shout, but it was the most incredible feeling he’d ever had—this being in her without being in her, being cradled by her body without the heavy thrusting that would take him all the way inside.
She slid back until the tip of his c**k was poised at her entrance, rising on her tiptoes to torment him for a minute with her incredible heat. And then she was moving forward so that his dick rasped at her pu**y again.
“You’re killing me, sweetheart.” He stroked his hands up her back, tangled them in the chignon that was just starting to fall out. Tugged and watched with eyes he knew were turning wild as her hair cascaded around her shoulders and down her back.
God, there really was miles of the stuff—soft and sweet-smelling and so sexy it had him arching against her even as he tangled his fists in it and tugged.
“Cole!” Her voice was low, startled and incredibly excited—so excited that he did it again as he rolled his h*ps against her.
She whimpered, arched, her eyes closing as the pleasure went through her and he couldn’t resist a grin. Or doing it a third time as he realized just how much Genevieve got off on the little licks of pain.
Shifting his hands so that they were at the nape of her neck, he pulled down hard enough to have her tilting her head to the side and opening her eyes. Then he lowered his mouth to hers, sucked her lower lip between his teeth and bit softly.
