“So are you in or are you out, Farm Boy?” she asked, groaning when his hand slid upward over her thigh and along the cheek of her ass possessively.
Derrick kneaded the handful of flesh while she watched his brain absorb her offer. He warred with it, chewed on it then gave in to it. “You sure about this, Pussycat?”
Was she sure? She was so sure, she was surer than sure. “Oh, I’m sure,” she purred back.
The left half of his mouth tilted upward in a grin. “Then in it is.”
That was all the incentive Martine needed. Standing on tiptoe, she planted her lips firmly on his, wrapping her arms around his neck and sighing when their chests crushed together.
But when Derrick’s tongue slipped into her mouth, when he took command of the kiss, when his lips, soft and hard at the same time, consumed hers, she inhaled sharply.
His kiss was like no other she’d ever had.
Right then and there, she knew she should stop this. Knew this was going somewhere she didn’t want to go—had always been afraid to go. Knew she’d end up in hot water, but the rest of her refused to cooperate with reason.
No. Rather, the rest of her threw her into the decadence of Derrick’s mouth, the hot swipe of his tongue, the way he hauled her up close as if her lips were the only pair left on the planet.
He didn’t just kiss her, he demanded she kiss him, and it made her head spin.
There was instant connection, instant lust—so much lust, her head throbbed with it, her nipples tightened to the tune of it, and her heart reacted violently to it. The crash in her chest left her almost breathless.
And she wanted more. She wanted to stand in the middle of his living room and kiss him forever.
Derrick’s moan brought her more satisfaction than she thought possible when he deepened their kiss and began to move her toward the couch.
Her fingers found the edge of his sweater, driving it up over his chest, and she left his lips only long enough to get it over his head. When her palms touched his flesh for the first time, her fingertips tingled. She let them lie flat on his pecs, absorbing the heat of his smooth skin, arching her neck, desperate to keep their mouths connected.
Derrick’s fingers were nimble, popping open the buttons of her shirt until it was left hanging off her shoulders. And then he cupped her breasts, using both hands, pushing them together, thumbing her nipples, bringing them to rigid peaks until she squirmed from the heat building between her thighs.
Tugging at his belt, Martine yanked it open and found the button on his jeans, tearing at it and dragging the zipper down, forcing his jeans over his lean hips and to the floor.
Derrick kicked off his shoes and stepped out of his jeans, keeping her flush to him, pulling her closer, bending her backward until she was on the couch and his hands were driving her skirt upward.
Martine held her breath, clenched her fists, squeezed her eyes shut when Derrick began to travel down over her collarbone, skimming her nipples, licking them, blowing on them, and bringing them to tight peaks. He dipped his tongue into her bellybutton, swirling it around before kissing his way toward the sensitive flesh of her inner thigh.
He spread her legs wide, his hair soft against her skin when he leaned forward, his eyes caressing the most intimate part of her body.
Martine’s breathing hitched when he let out a low groan and murmured his approval. “Smooth like silk.”
Then his arms circled her, cupping her ass and pulling her to his lips. Lips that seared her as he pressed them flush to her aching core.
Derrick stilled for a moment, breathing her in, unmoving, making her writhe with anticipation until she grabbed a handful of his hair and lifted herself toward his mouth.
His tongue slipped inside her, slick and hot, jolting her, eliciting a groan of achy need, making her bite her lip to keep from begging him to lick her.
And then he began to stroke—long, slow, measured swipes of his tongue, until she rocked against him, savoring the rasp against her clit, relishing the rhythm. Pangs of desperate need clawed at her when he circled her clit, suckled it, keeping the swollen bud aching with desire. His strong hands kneaded her ass, lifting her higher against his wet mouth, pushing her to the brink then easing her away from the edge again.
Martine’s stomach clenched as the easy rhythm increased, creating delicious friction, drawing sharp twinges of need from deep within her until her back arched, thrusting herself into the moist heat of his mouth.
As her orgasm drew near, her thighs trembled, her heart crashed against her ribs and there was nothing but Derrick’s mouth on her, nothing but his tongue sliding in and out of her slick, swollen flesh. When his hands moved to her waist, spanning her lower body, pressing her to his delicious lips, Martine strained, reaching for fulfillment.