Seven Nights of Sin - Lacey Alexander [38]
Reaching behind her neck, she slowly untied her slinky black halter top and found that letting it drop to her waist wasn’t so hard—because she wore a black strapless bra underneath. “Pretty,” he said, his expression fully sexual, devoid of all amusement. “Now more.”
Brenna pushed the halter over her denim mini and felt it drop around her red strappy heels. Then she reached behind her back and smoothly unhooked the lacy bra, letting it fall, as well.
Damon’s eyes locked on her breasts, making her already taut nipples tingle under his perusal. He’d seen them before, of course, in the closet, and after, as they’d slept together naked last night, but again, this felt more intense—to strip for him, to bare herself. It felt like baring her soul.
“Fucking beautiful,” he said.
And as a slow heat began to pervade her, as nervousness gave way to pure lust, Brenna found herself grazing her palms up over her bare stomach and onto the two mounds of flesh. She’d never touched herself this way in front of a man before, but instinct had driven her. To do what felt good. To do what she’d known he would like.
She first cupped the undersides of her breasts, letting their weight settle in her hands. Then she let her palms close fully over them, sensually squeezing as she met Damon’s gaze, as she saw the fire there and felt the result in her already-damp-for-him panties.
“That’s so nice, babe,” he said, his voice a low growl.
She licked her upper lip, feeling the full power now, and the full longing that was taking her over. Still gently molding her breasts, she tweaked her nipples between thumbs and forefingers, feeling how hard they were and as if they elongated even more at her touch.
“Keep going,” he instructed.
And his wish was her command, she discovered—to her surprise, she actually liked him instructing her, telling her what to do. She liked the idea of being his play thing, his sex toy—the woman he wanted to fuck.
Lifting one foot to the tile step leading to the tub, she bent to undo the small buckle on her shoe.
“Not yet,” Damon said.
She looked up at him.
“Take those off last.”
A fresh whoosh of dirty pleasure rushed up her thighs and into her nether region. He wanted to see her naked but for the shoes. She was his sex toy. And she liked it more than she could easily understand.
Putting her foot back on the floor, Brenna undid the button on her skirt, which rested beneath her navel. Then she lowered the zipper and eased the denim over her hips until it hit the tile, leaving her in a black thong complete with embroidery and lace. She stepped free of the skirt and stood before him, drinking in his gaze, predatory and all male.
She had been careful not to drink much tonight—a total of two wine spritzers spread over the whole evening—but she felt drunk anyway, intoxicated by what she could only describe as animal desire. It grew from within, a raging force that defied logic or emotion.
She skimmed her palms up her thighs, then let them glide over her hips and back onto her ass, arching it into her hands as she thrust her breasts forward. Any remnants of nervousness were gone now—she was into this, into him.
Drawing her hands back around, she raked one middle finger teasingly over the front of her panties, then let it dip down inside. Her fingertip brushed briefly over her damp, swollen clit before she extracted it.
“Jesus God,” Damon uttered, eyes glassy with want.
She bit her lip, feeling wholly seductive, like someone she’d never been before, someone entirely new. “Who’s prim and proper now?” she asked. She hadn’t realized their discussion at the pool had made her feel she had something to prove to him, but maybe she did.
Damon gave his head a slow shake. “Not you, honey. Not anymore.”
She let a naughty smile unfurl across her face.
And he offered a nasty little grin of his own in reply. “You’re a