One Wild Wedding Night_ Getaway - Leslie Kelly [16]
“I was kissing you,” he teased, dropping his mouth to the V of her thighs again. He flicked his tongue out to sample her pert clit, rewarded with her delighted gasp and the thrust of her hips toward his hungry mouth.
Dean devoured her, knowing there was so much more to be done but not ready to give up this particularly intimate pleasure until, hearing her frenzied cries and seeing the tensing of her muscles, he realized she was close to climaxing. “Come on, beautiful,” he murmured, wanting to take her there.
And suddenly he did. She arched hard, crying out in delight as tremors ran throughout her body.
Dean gradually worked his way up her body. Every taste whetted his appetite. Every brush of his lips sent fresh quivers through her. She was slender—not too curvaceous but so feminine she could illustrate the word. Soft everywhere. With smooth lines of creamy skin and delicate curves, every one of which he simply had to taste and stroke and adore.
Finally, when he thought Bridget was going to sob if he didn’t finish his leisurely journey northward, he moved over her and stared into her eyes. “I’m glad you let me catch you.”
“I think I caught you,” she murmured.
“You’re absolutely sure?” he asked, already past the point of no return but figuring he ought to pretend to be a gentleman.
She nodded. “Very sure.”
“Thank God. Because there’s no way I’m stopping.”
“I’d never forgive you if you did.” Tugging him close, she brushed her lips against his, then parted them and slid her tongue out to play with his.
Dean groaned, turned his head so he could get even closer, and explored her warm mouth. Their tongues danced wildly, as she began to push his clothes off him. He lifted himself away long enough to lose the shirt, but when she reached for his belt, he pushed her hand aside. “Better let me do that. I have about as much control as a horny kid where you’re concerned.”
Her eyes glittered, as if she liked that she drove him crazy. Hell, he liked that she drove him crazy. He went especially crazy when Bridget reached for the front clasp of her skimpy bra and flicked it open with her thumb. The lacy fabric fell away, revealing perfectly proportioned breasts.
She nibbled her bottom lip, as if uncertain of his reaction. “Not quite centerfold material…” she whispered. “I might have been, uh, exaggerating about the 34 C.”
“You are perfect, Bridget Donahue,” he said, his voice throaty as he studied the perfection of her, the soft skin, the dark puckered nipples that begged to be tasted.
He tasted.
“Dean!” she groaned when he covered one nipple and sucked it hard, while tweaking the other between his fingers.
“So sensitive,” he mumbled as he played with her breasts, moving back and forth to nibble and suck. As he did so, her silky, stocking-covered thighs lifted and encircled his hips. She arched against him, rubbing that hot, wet center against the rock-hard erection straining against his pants.
“I need to touch you.” She was reaching for his belt again, not to be denied this time. When her slender hands brushed against the front of his trousers, his cock lurched toward it. Dean waited for more of that touch, needing it desperately.
She rapidly unfastened his belt, tugging at his zipper, almost shaking in her want. She pushed them down just far enough to reach inside, then encircled as much of him as she could take with her cool hand. “Oh, heavens,” she whispered, sounding the tiniest bit intimidated for the first time all night. Clearing her throat, she added, “I want that. I want it now.”
Her demand for that suddenly made his whole body stiffen as much as his dick. “Oh, God, please tell me you’re on the pill.”
She shook her head and Dean’s stomach fell out of his body.
“But check my purse. I, uh, made a purchase from the vending machine at the service station.”
“So you were planning to seduce me.”
She licked her lips. “It didn’t take much.”
No, it hadn’t. But Dean simply didn’t care. He reached for her red bag, opened it and saw