Westmoreland's Way - Brenda Jackson [33]
“Not so bad for an amateur, wouldn’t you say?” She beamed, feeling like she had accomplished something monumental and proud of herself for doing so. She allowed her hands to get more brazen while watching his erection get harder, and feeling it thicken in her hands.
“I have no complaints,” he said in what sounded like a tortured moan. His physical reaction fascinated her, brought out a level of womanly pride that drove her boldness.
“When you’re through having your fun then it’s my turn,” he said in a voice that to her ears sounded like an intoxicated slur.
She considered the wisdom of continuing what she was doing for too long and stole a peek at him from under her lashes. His eyes were closed and his head was tilted back at an angle that showed the veins in his neck. They looked like they were straining. Almost ready to pop.
“Hey, I’m merely doing what I was told. You said to get to know it,” she said defensively, but couldn’t hide her smile.
Deciding she’d gotten to know him very well, she released him and stepped back and watched as he slowly regained control. Then he stared at her and muttered in a low, throaty voice, “Now it’s my time to get you naked.”
Getting her naked would be just the start, Dillon thought, looking at her and imagining just how she would look without her jeans and sweater. Even now she looked sexy, with her raven-black hair spilling around her shoulders, a few loose tendrils cascading around her face. Making love to her had been on his mind since leaving her house, and now that he was here, standing stark naked in front of her, knowing that soon, very soon, he would be inside of her sent his entire body into an intense throb mode.
“Come here, Pam,” he murmured in a breathless tone, and watched as she didn’t hesitate to cover the short distance between them.
When she was within close range, he reached out and snagged her by the waist and brought her closer to the fit of him, and was sure, without a doubt, that she could feel his hardness and his heat, through her jeans.
But he wanted more. He wanted to give her more. Wanted to let her feel more. And with that thought firmly planted in his mind, he reached out and pulled her sweater over her head. Moments later he slung it onto the chair. Her lacy black bra was sexy, but also needed to come off, and he proceeded to remove it. Like her sweater, he sent it flying to the chair.
“Good aim,” she leaned closer to say, her breath warm against his throat.
“Thanks,” he uttered raspily, his gaze giving her breasts full attention. Her breasts were full, firm twin mounds supported by delicate, feminine shoulders. As if a magnet was drawing his gaze, his eyes were pulled to the nipples and, unable to resist temptation, he took the pad of his finger to flick across both hardened tips.
But he wanted to do more than just look and touch. He wanted to taste them and, with that thought in mind, he leaned in and lowered his mouth to close over a quivering, delicious-looking peak.
“Dillon.”
The moment she said his name he stuck out his tongue to run it across a nipple before pulling it into his mouth to suck in all earnestness. He didn’t even try to change his stance when she lifted her hand to support the back of his head to keep right where he was, to continue what he was doing. Not that he intended to stop. The taste of her breasts was arousing him and, with an easy movement, he shifted his mouth to the other nipple to greedily ply it with the same attention.
By the time he lifted his head and met her gaze he could barely keep his entire body from trembling. A need for her, to make love to her, surged through him and he stooped down on bended knees to remove her shoes and socks. To maintain her balance she placed a hand on his shoulder and her touch sent his muscles rippling as sensations roared through him, made him clench his teeth.
After removing her shoes and socks, he stood, straightened his body to his full height and without saying a single word he reached for the waistband of her jeans. Somehow