Ty dropped her hand and left her standing on the plush beige carpet, feeling incredibly aroused and terribly awkward. He dug into his nightstand and emerged with a lighter that he used to light several candles placed around the room. His nervous dialogue seemed to have disappeared and she longed for it to return, because with each second of silence, her anxiety increased, which irritated her.
She was a grown woman and she wanted to do this. A lot.
Which was ironically why she was so nervous. She was vested in the outcome. She wanted to please him and was aware of her shortcomings. No one had ever put the words bimbo and Imogen in the same sentence. Or badass . Or seductive . Any of what she had to assume were the typical male fantasies.
Her approach had always been enthusiasm rather than technique, and what if that wasn't good enough for Ty?
She was giving herself a mental lecture when he dimmed the overhead light and turned to her with a smile that immediately disappeared when he caught sight of her. "What's wrong?"
"Nothing."
"Liar." He came over to her and took her hand again, stroking her skin with his thumb.
Imogen sighed. "I suck."
"Well, that's promising."
That made her smile despite her best intentions to look worried. "I'm just thinking too much."
"I can tell. And you need to stop it." He slipped his arm around her waist and pulled her to him. "I'm going to make you stop it. I'm going to kiss you and suck you and lick you until there isn't a single thought in your head except amazement that you are coming again ." Wow. Yes, if the state of her damp panties was any indication, she responded well to alpha male domination. "Again? I haven't had an orgasm yet."
"Give me five minutes." Ty stepped back and yanked off his T-shirt. He took her hands and put them on his chest. "Touch me," he demanded.
She could do that. His skin was warm and firm, and she slid her greedy fingers all over it while he bent down and kissed her. His mouth always did fabulous things to her insides, pushing aside those pesky doubts with each desperate press, each thrust of his tongue into her.
"I'm going to unbutton your shirt and taste your nipples," he said, moving down her neck with hot kisses, his fingers already working at her buttons.
Cool air hit her overheated flesh when he undid the first button, his breath raising goose bumps on her where he had left damp spots from his tongue trailing down to the dip between her breasts. He was still working on the second button when without preamble he shoved the fabric of her bra to the side and took her nipple into his mouth.
"Oh!" Imogen squeezed her nails into his chest in shock, her head falling back at the jolt of pleasure that shot through her.
He lifted his head and murmured into her chest as he finished off the second button. "Your nipple is perfect. Like a little raspberry, tart and rosy."
She could honestly say no man had ever said that to her before. Kind of liking the idea of being tart and rosy, Imogen said, "Thank you. I have two."
Ty gave a soft laugh. "I know. Is the other one jealous?" He blew on the nipple he had dampened with his tongue, causing her to shiver in delight, then covered it back up and bared the other one.
Instead of covering it with his mouth, he slid his tongue around it, over and over, his lips brushing the tip but never giving it his full attention. Imogen bit her own lip to prevent a groan from slipping out, and shifted, trying to force contact. He ignored her and continued to lick everywhere on her breast except her nipple, giving a teasing little flick now and again but for the most part torturing her by getting close but never giving her the satisfaction of pulling her tight nipple into his mouth and sucking. Imogen moved her hands restlessly on his chest, shifted in her shoes uneasily, tried to maneuver to anticipate his movement and have him land on the aching bud, but he evaded her.
"Ty," she said, a little desperate, grabbing the back of his head and trying to force the issue that way.
But he stopped altogether and pulled her hands off his head. "Put your hands in your back pockets," he told her.
"Why?" she asked, a little jolt of desire hitting her between the thighs. She wasn't sure why he wanted her to do that, but it sounded mildly kinky and she liked that.
He was already sliding her hands down into her back pockets, his own hands cupping hers, applying pressure so that together they were caressing and feeling her backside, her elbows bent and half-bare chest jutting toward him.
"Because you are so sexy, and I want to give you pleasure all night." Okay, then. She was good with that.
His hands retreated, leaving hers in place. "Don't move them," he told her, his eyes dark with desire.
It was an odd position, a strange, erotic feeling to be standing there, not knowing what he was going to do, but anticipating it, waiting with bated breath for the next touch. Slowly, he undid the rest of her buttons and pulled open her shirt.
"Where is your jacket?" he asked. "Did you leave it at the garage?" Disoriented by the way his thumbs were skimming across her bare belly, she said, "No, I grabbed it. I think I left it in your car."
"Good. It looked expensive. I'd hate to think it was lost." That was oddly touching and considerate, but she couldn't care less about her blazer at the moment, especially when he popped the button on her jeans, but did nothing else, moving back up to lift her bra
out of his way. Moving quickly, his mouth was suddenly on her, sucking her nipple hard.
Imogen let a moan go ahead and escape this time, then hitched in a breath when he gently bit her before abandoning her again. His hand cupped her breast, and he rubbed his thumb across her swollen and damp nipple, while his mouth migrated to the other tip, his tongue laving it in rhythm with his thumb, until Imogen was fighting for breath, her head lolling back.
She tried to pull her hands out to grip his hair for balance, but he sensed the movement and said, "Leave them." Since it also resulted in his thumb descending to hold her hands in place in her pockets, Imogen went still. He went back to licking her nipple, still cupping the weight of her, but now his free hand gripped her backside, his fingers shifting down along the seam of her jeans, down, then up, down, then up, so that the friction heated her, and the tease of where he almost reached, then always retreated, had slick moisture easing down into her panties.
"Ty," she said, not sure what she was asking for, her thoughts jumbled and erratic.
"What? You want your shirt all the way off, don't you?" He stood up and leaned against her, his firm chest brushing against her swollen nipples. "Here, pull them out for two seconds." He shifted her hands up out of her pockets, then before she could blink, he had her shirt yanked down her arms and onto the floor. The bra followed and she was totally naked from the waist up.
She was about to wrap her arms around him and scrape her nails across his broad back, but he forced her hands back in the jeans pockets.
"No," she protested.
"Yes." Ty stepped back. "Let me look at you."
Imogen felt a pang of self-consciousness, her shoulders slumping slightly forward.
But then Ty said, "Oh, baby, look at how gorgeous you are." His jaw was clenched, his erection clearly visible in his jeans. "Such creamy, soft skin." His finger floated up her arm, barely skimming the flesh.
"Silky hair . . . so dark, so sexy."
He flicked the end of her hair, causing it to slide across her shoulder and chest, and Imogen forgot to be self-conscious. She licked her lips, aware that she was breathing hard, her fingers digging into her own flesh to give her something to hold on to.
Ty gave a soft moan. "Do that again."
"What?"
"Lick your lips. I bet you can do amazing things with that tongue, knowing what it does in my mouth." Imogen straightened and did it again, dragging her tongue slowly across her bottom lip, enjoying the way his eyes darkened, the way he stared at her mouth in dark fascination.
"Do you leave your glasses on or take them off when you're having sex?" he asked, his voice low and rough.
They weren't sliding down her nose at the moment, so Imogen wasn't bothered by them. She shrugged.
"I don't know. It depends. Why?"
"Because things are about to get down and dirty, and I don't want to knock them off your face by accident."
Down and dirty. She liked the sound of that, though she couldn't picture anything they would do that would send her glasses sailing off her face. "It doesn't matter."