Wicked Beat (Sinners on Tour #4)(127)

He lifted her apron and discovered that she'd completely shaved her mound. "I see dessert," he said.

"That's supposed to be for later."

"I can have multiple desserts today. It's my birthday." He slid down her body and suckled her smooth, swollen lips, teased her clit with his tongue, and licked at her slick hole to sample her sweet juices.

"Oh, Eric," she moaned. "I want you."

He slipped a finger inside her and rotated it in wide circles while he sucked hard on her clit.

Her back arched. "Oh wait. I'm gonna come. Eric!"

Her body shuddered with release. She strained against his hand, her pussy gripping his finger in delightful spasms. When she went limp, he pulled his finger free and placed a tender kiss on her pretty folds, loving how exposed they looked when clean-shaven. He slid up her body to smile down at her flushed face.

"It's your birthday," she said breathlessly. "I'm not supposed to get the presents."

"That was a present for both of us." He lowered his head to kiss her jaw, her neck, her ear.

She stiffened beneath him. "Wait! I've been planning this for a week, and you're messing with my agenda here."

If he hadn't been so curious about her plans, he would have said to hell with them, but he was. Curious. She slipped from beneath him and scampered off the bed. She collected his breakfast tray and nodded toward the connecting bathroom. "Your next surprise is in there." 

He watched the apron ties bounce against her sweet little bottom as she trotted out of the room. As soon as she was out of sight, Eric scrambled into the bathroom. On the sink, he found a red box with a large yellow bow. Happy 2nd Birthday, sweetheart. Please open immediately. Rebekah

He lifted the lid and found a white poof inside. The kind she used in the shower. Beneath it was a little card. Wait for me in the shower.

He used the toilet and then stepped into the shower, letting the water wet his naked body. A moment later, Rebekah entered the bathroom. She was wearing a plain white T-shirt and nothing else. She stepped into the shower with him, still wearing the T-shirt. At first, he wasn't sure why, but as the T-shirt got wet, it became completely transparent and clung to her curves in a way that was somehow sexier than naked flesh.

He mumbled something incoherent and reached for her breasts, cupping them beneath the T-shirt, squeezing them so that her darkened nipples strained against the transparent wet cloth. Oh God. He wanted them. Wanted her. He lowered his head and sucked one breast, shirt and all, into his mouth. "There you go giving me presents again," she murmured in a husky voice. "Where's the present I gave you?"

He had no idea. He lifted his head to look at her, and when confronted by that wet T-shirt again, he couldn't even remember what she'd asked him. Apparently, she found what she was looking for in his left hand. She turned to retrieve a bottle of liquid soap from the caddy on the wall. His gaze drifted to the tattoo on her lower back and then the sweet curves of her naked ass. She turned again and began to draw the poof over his chest, leaving foamy suds on his skin as she washed him with slow, deliberate motions.

He couldn't keep his hands off her tits.

She soaped his shoulders. His arms. His back. His belly. It felt wonderful. He felt special and loved. And really fucking horny.

Her soapy poof moved lower. She squatted to soap his hips and thighs. The head of his cock disappeared into her hot little mouth. She sucked it gently, sending waves of pleasure rippling along his shaft while she soaped his balls and soaped them and soaped them. By the time she was done washing them, he was certain there had never been a cleaner set of balls on the planet. He was also certain that there was nothing hotter than his woman in a wet T-shirt looking at him with adoration while she sucked his cock.

Control took a backseat to need.

He bent to grab her by both arms. She let his cock pop free of her tight suction, and he hauled her to her feet. He had to fuck her. Immediately. None of the emotional, tender lovemaking that had occurred the night before. No. This would be dirty. And rough. He was much too excited to be gentle.

He grabbed her face between both palms and kissed her hard and deep. She didn't protest, even when he pressed her against the wall and moved his hands to squeeze her breasts.

She jerked her head to the side. "Rip it off me," she demanded.

He was no Hulk Hogan. He couldn't tear a T-shirt apart with his bare hands. Or could he? He noticed that she'd cut the neckband, so he could rip it off her. The sexy little vixen had planned it from the start. He grabbed the fabric and pulled in both directions. It gave way with a satisfying rip. Her breasts tumbled free, and he gasped. He grabbed them and massaged them roughly. He needed to be inside her. Needed to fuck her.