The Lumberfox (Geekrotica) Read Online Free Page B

from her neck, down over her clavicles, between her breasts, into the ticklish valley between her ribs, over the swell of her tummy, and directly into her black and white polka-dotted panties. A little moan escaped her as one of his fingers dragged between her lips, already slick and wet and welcoming. He kneeled beside her, his face a mask of want and concentration, focused only on her and the small sounds that she couldn't quite control.
    “God, that's lovely,” he muttered, and the next thing she felt was his breath through the satin as he stretched out on his stomach and licked her through her panties. His palm spread across her mound, that one finger crooked and plunging between her lips as his beard rasped the insides of her thighs and his tongue played with the black lace edges. When she opened her eyes, she had an eyeful of his elbow, inked with a spider's web and his eyes closed in rapt devotion further down.
    In that instant, she had to see all of him, and she reached down his back for the hem of his tee, yanking it up and over his head with his help. As it slipped off his arm, she could see her own wetness gleaming on his finger and in his beard where she'd dampened the thin material. As he set back to his work, sliding his finger in through the side and playing with her clit, she ran her hand down his back, a rippling canvas of muscle and hard curves. When she hit his jeans, she slipped her hand in under the waistband and inside his boxer briefs, caressing the curve of his ass and around to his hipbone.
    “What about you...” she started.
    He spoke directly into her cleft. “Only you. Enjoy it.”
    So she did.
    It was a wondrous thing, the sensations invading her eyes and hand and pussy as the fire crackled gently and the room warmed perfectly to where she couldn't figure out where her skin ended and the air began. She was concentrating so hard on the soft skin of his butt that she gasped when he moved her panties fully aside and slicked his tongue across her, broad and wet and hungry. He pried her thighs apart gently, his finger circling for a moment before pushing into her with deliciously elegant focus. He didn't stop until his knuckles pressed into the soft flesh, his tongue urging her to open more as his finger pulled back out with the same infinite slowness. Like a flawless machine he built speed, finger working in and out and tongue lapping, licking, tasting, pressing, pushing her into a rhythm she would have been helpless to fight, even if she'd wanted to.
    Goddamn it, she didn't. She spread her knees wider and tilted her head back, eyes closed, to savor every second. He didn't ask what she liked or wanted, didn't stare at her nervously, didn't shy away from any touch. No, Ryon drank her in like a shot of his favorite Scotch and seemed to know exactly what to do and when and how, as if he could read her mind and heart by the juice dripping down his finger.
    She could feel it building now, her breath ratcheting up and her back arching as his rhythm sped up and his finger pushed into her and pulled out with more urgency, curling at just the right moment. Teeth gritted and feet flexed, thighs burning and stomach muscles clenched, she arched up and cried out, riding the wave as long as she could, as long as he held her there, captive between mouth and palm, drawing it out like the last note of a favorite song.
    When she opened her eyes, he was watching her intently, his face pillowed on her belly. His pupils were dilated, his mouth wet with her juices. And damned if he didn't manage to look both utterly tranquil and completely smug, like a Zen master who'd finally solved the koan and wouldn't tell anyone else the answer.
    She was about to say something silly when the oven timer went off. Ryon jumped to his feet and jogged away, and Tara was surprised that although his arms and shoulders were completely inked, his back was still a blank canvas. Smiling to herself, she considered how much fun it would be