“Not good enough.” I kiss her again, harder.
This time she breaks away first, groaning. “No! I’m not in love with you! That would be the stupidest thing ever!”
Stubborn wench. I kiss her again, walking her backward toward the bed.
I push her down to the mattress, sink to my knees on the floor, and push her dress up her thighs. Bending down, I take a big mouthful of her flesh, the tender, succulent flesh a few inches to the left of her panties. I suck, then gently bite down.
She moans. Sinks shaking hands into my hair. Curses me.
I rub my thumb up and down the warm center of her panties. “Where else do you want me to suck, baby?”
“I hate you. You know where.”
“You don’t hate me. Unless you’re substituting one four-letter word for another.”
I inhale deeply against her panties. Fuck, I love that scent. Warm, earthy, and utterly female. Utterly her.
Already hard, my cock twitches. It twitches again when I pull her panties aside and expose her beautiful pink pussy, wet and ready to eat.
I blow softly over the plump little nub of her clit, and she whimpers.
“Is that a please, baby?”
Her head moves restlessly back and forth. She rocks her hips.
That’s a definite fucking please.
Very gently, I swirl my tongue over her clit. She gasps, her body bowing against the mattress.
“Do you like that?”
“I love it.”
“What else do you love?”
I swirl my tongue around and around, then gently suck. I slide my finger inside her. My reward is a long, low moan of pleasure.
Then she says through gritted teeth, “Aardvark.”
Challenge accepted.
I suck more firmly on her clit, flicking my tongue back and forth when she shudders. My dick throbs, aching to plunge into all that sweet, wet heat, but I control the urge to sink it into her and start pounding and simply lick and suck and press my finger in and out until she’s writhing against my face and pulling at my hair.
I love how she responds to me. How she never holds anything back in bed.
If only I could get her to do the same with her feelings, I’d be a very happy fucking man.
Still licking her pussy, I open the fly on my jeans and release my cock from my briefs. It pops out like it’s spring-loaded, rock hard and eager in my hand.
I rise to my knees, my dick in one hand and her clit pinched between two fingers of the other hand, and stare down at her. My heart pounds.
I growl, “Show me those beautiful tits.”
Her eyes hazy and her cheeks flushed, she fumbles with the buttons on the bodice of her dress. She gets them all open and bares her chest to me, thrusting her breasts up like a dare.
She’s not wearing a bra. Her nipples are hard, pink, and impossible to resist.
I lean over and take one into my mouth, sucking.
She gasps. Arches. Sinks her fingers into the muscles of my shoulders. I rub the head of my cock back and forth through her wet folds until she’s moaning and panting, begging me for more.
Then I rise to my feet, kick off my shoes, rip off the rest of my clothes, and peel her out of her dress. I sit on the edge of the mattress, drag her onto my lap so her thighs are spread around my hips, and kiss her, guiding my cock inside her slick heat.
She tightens her arms around my shoulders and moans into my mouth.
Then she rides me, hard and fast, bucking her hips.
I pull her hair. Her head falls back. I kiss her throat, driving into her as she bounces up and down on my cock. Her breasts are smashed against my chest. She makes these small, feminine sounds of pleasure that make me feel like some sort of wild animal.
When she sobs my name, her thighs and arms clenching around my body, I lose myself.
I roll her to her back and come inside her, biting her neck, seeing stars.
Her pussy convulses around my dick in hard, rhythmic contractions. She shudders and cries out beneath me.
I keep coming. In wave after wave, I spill myself inside her, mindless and grunting. My skin is drenched in sweat. Every muscle in my body is clenched.
Then we’re kissing again. Deep, delicious kisses mixed with soft moans as our orgasms fade and our limbs begin to relax around each other.
When I finally open my eyes and look at her, she’s lying underneath me with a blissed-out expression, her eyes closed and a small, satisfied smile on her flushed face.
The smile lasts for about two seconds.
Then her eyes fly open, and her whole body stiffens. She stares at me in horror, sucking in a breath.
Fuck.
I say, “Before you start to hurl insults at me, let me defend myself by saying that wasn’t on purpose. I simply got carried away.”
It’s true, but she doesn’t believe me. I can tell by the look on her face that she thinks I laid a trap for her and fucked her right into it.
“Is this a bad time to remind you that you got carried away, too?”
She says, “This is a bad time for you to be saying anything, gangster. Especially that.”
She pushes at my chest, trying to get out from underneath me. I ignore that and stay firmly seated inside her. “Look at me.”
She stares at me with eyes like razor blades. I stare right back. “When was your last period?”
She scoffs. “Oh, are you a gynecologist now, too?”
“One more smart remark and I’ll spank your ass until it’s red and my hand is stinging. Answer the question.”
She wants to kill me. God, how much she wants to put a hole in my brain. If her eyes were loaded guns, I’d be riddled with bullets.
She says, “Just over three weeks ago.”
“Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
“And are your periods regular?”
She closes her eyes and mutters, “Jesus Christ.”
“Just answer the goddamn question.”
With a sigh, she says, “Yes, doctor. My periods are regular.”
I kiss her gently on the lips. “Then you’re in the luteal phase.”
“I’ve never heard that term in my life. What the hell are you saying?”
“I’m saying you probably won’t get pregnant.”
“Probably isn’t definitely.”
“No, it isn’t.” We stare at each other. I say, “What do you think of twins?”
Her face drains of color.
“Because they run in my family.”
She stares at me, horrified.
“I’m just saying. Don’t look so nauseated.”
She sputters, “Y-you can’t—you can’t be okay with…with…”
“What? You carrying my child?”
“Yes!”
I kiss her again. “The only problem I can foresee is what will happen to your temper with pregnancy hormones. It could get ugly. I’ll have to take out extra life insurance. Hire a few more bodyguards.”
She’s dismayed. “This isn’t funny!”
“No, lass, it isn’t funny. It’s life. Messy, complicated, and, occasionally, fucking beautiful. If you’re pregnant, we’ll figure it out.”
“We?”
I freeze. My heart skips a beat. I hadn’t considered the other alternatives.
Seeing the look on my face, she says softly, “I can’t believe I’m going to say this out loud, but thank you for being offended by that.”