IntheMood Read Online Free Page B

protection?”
    “Yes I do. If I hadn’t, I’d have toured Chicago and found
some.” He bent closer. “After I’d driven you mad first. Fingers and tongue,
darling, fingers and tongue.”
    She shuddered, and he chose that moment to bend and take her
nipple into his mouth. She cried out and arched toward him, trying to push her
nipple deeper, feel more, get more—now.
    Tearing open the dreaded buckles, she found a series of
buttons below. To distract her mind from the torment, she counted the buttons.
Four, there were four. Then his pants were down and off, and his underwear went
with them. He leaned across her to fumble in a drawer, the first time his touch
hadn’t been self-assured. Unconsciously he’d revealed his urgency and inwardly
she rejoiced. Because she felt exactly the same. Uncertain, anxious and most of
all, desperate.
    Finally he was naked. As he returned to her with a fistful
of brightly colored packets, she used her feet to push her panties off and
away. He paused and raised a brow. “Impressive.”
    “What?”
    “Your suppleness and that gorgeous pussy.”
    He dropped the packets on the pillow next to the one they
were using and spread his hand over her waist, up to briefly cup her breast,
and then down over the curve of her waist and down to trace the curls her spa
allowed her to keep, which wasn’t too much. But bare didn’t appeal to her, so
she made them leave a patch at the junction of her legs.
    It appeared he approved. “A natural blonde,” he purred,
threading his fingers through the curls, ruffling them. “So pretty.” He glanced
up, his eyes alive with mischief. “Goldilocks.”
    She laughed. It wasn’t the first time she’d heard the quip,
but it sounded so much better in his low, rumbling voice. “My mom calls me that
sometimes.”
    “But not like this I hope.”
    “Never.” The word ended on a gasp as he finally finished
with her hair and moved lower, grazing her clit and moving past to trace her
folds. Forking his first and second fingers, he slid them along her crease, the
slick sound emphasizing his intimate movements. And she melted.
    She’d wanted to touch him first, but with his soft,
persuasive strokes, he was reducing her to a quivering mass. She couldn’t think
straight. She stared at him, her hands at rest on his body while he worked her.
The sounds increased as she moaned and lifted her knees, keeping her legs apart
so he could reach her.
    When he clamped his fingers together, catching her clit
between, she cried out. “Oh fuck, that’s amazing.”
    “So are you, sweetheart, so are you.” He pinched her clit
and worked it for real, sliding the little peak of flesh between thumb and
forefinger. Watching him only added to her arousal. She wondered if he’d ever
played a musical instrument, because his fingers were as supple as a fiddle
player’s.
    Her peak rose, internally and externally, and her grip on
his free arm tightened as her body rose to his command and she burst in a
shower of fiery notes. She heard his voice, but she couldn’t hear what he was
saying except he sounded encouraging and free. Then he reached over her and
grabbed something from the pillow.
    He wasted little time sheathing his needy cock. She had a
moment of regret when she wished she’d had more time to touch him, but he was
over her and on her. Missionary had never seemed so exciting as she lifted her
legs, wrapped them around his waist and drew him in. He took his cock in hand
and guided it to her, then he was there.
    They gasped their relief. He surrounded her, his body over
and on her, but he kept the bulk of his weight away. He didn’t stop until he’d
driven slowly and steadily inside her. Their pubic hair must be meshing now,
dark and blonde, the sweet-sour scent of lovemaking, overlaid with heavy musk,
already tingeing the air with its persuasive perfume.
    He thrust, his first movements frantically hard and fast,
his body impacting with hers, the slap of flesh against