Читать книгу Wicked Games - Alison Kent - Страница 11

KINSEY GRAY HAD BEEN responsible for the best time Doug had ever spent naked with a woman, and he doubted that she had a single clue.

His fault completely, because he’d never said a word, and he should have. Damn it, but he should have. His excuse wasn’t a good one, but it was real and it was honest and it was the only one he’d been able to come up with.

And that was simply that, when they’d returned from last summer’s vacation off the coast of Belize, he hadn’t known what to say. He also wasn’t sure how much she remembered of what they’d done on the veranda while under the influence of palm fronds in the breeze and the moon on the water and way too much of Nolan Ford’s stock of sweet Caribbean rum.

Doug remembered all of it, or so he’d told himself anytime they were together and he wanted to take her to bed. Kinsey, however, had never made a move of any sort that led him to believe she wanted to revisit a connection that had nearly left him blind.

At least she hadn’t before now.

But now. Oh, now. Now, with her arms around his neck and her legs around his waist, she was definitely sending out the signals he’d been twitching for months to pick up. And the more he thought about having Kinsey served up for dessert, the worse the twitching got.

He scooped her straight off the cooking island’s slick tiles and headed back the way he’d originally come. She had a hell of an oversize sofa that was just the ticket to take them where he wanted to go.

She giggled, raining tiny kisses all over his face, blowing away the hair that kept falling into his eyes. “I love that you’ve grown your hair.”

So much for the haircut he’d been planning. “You’re making it hard for me to see where I’m going here, darlin’. If you hold up a minute, I promise we can get back to the kissing here shortly.”

“Such a spoilsport,” she said, pouting, but she did lean to the side and rest her head on his shoulder, giving him a clear field of vision.

Funny how the kissing was suddenly less important than the way she felt cuddled against him, the way she seemed to be so tiny when he knew she was fiercely independent and didn’t need him for anything.

When they reached the sofa, he turned and tumbled her on to his chest, his body bouncing once before he sank into the plush cushions. Kinsey bounced, too, and her bouncing was a hell of a lot more fun against his front than falling onto the stuffing had been that was against his back.

Oh, yeah. He could get used to this. Softness all the way around.

Straddling his thighs, Kinsey levered herself upright with her hands on his abs. Her top ringed her ribs like a white cotton tube, baring both her belly and her breasts. She was stunningly gorgeous, with her straight blond hair hanging down to hide her nipples, her bright blue eyes and her legs, that went on forever, gripping his thighs.

A total Scandinavian turn-on, he thought, right about the same time he decided her hair was in the way of his northern lights fantasy. He reached up and fanned out the strands behind her shoulders so he could get a good look at dessert.

And then she blushed.

He wasn’t sure if she was embarrassed because he was staring, or because his hard-on was making itself known there where her legs were spread apart over his. He reached up and brushed the backs of his fingers over her cheek. “You’re so cute when you do that.”

“And you’re so cute when you do that,” she responded, sliding her hand over his belt buckle to cover his rapidly expanding fly.

Well, that answered that, didn’t it? Thoughts that went way beyond simple lust fired his grin. This woman was a horny man’s most erotic dream, and he never wanted to come awake again. “Feel free to take a closer look.”

She took him up on the dare, making quick work of his buckle before easing down the zipper of his fly. Her focus remained on her fingers, and as she unfastened his pants, her upper arms pressed her breasts together into two plump mouthfuls.

He was absolutely starving, ravenous, insatiable, but he was looking forward to seeing how far she would go. Besides, what was another minute or two when he’d been waiting for this for a very long time? At least for the sixteen months since he’d last had her.

In fact, why hadn’t he gone with his gut and pursued her before now?

Maybe because it had taken this long for him to learn that being pursued could be so damn sweet.

He crossed his arms behind his head, raising his head a tad so he could watch as she worked to get his pants down. As seriously as he enjoyed the physical kick to getting blown, looking at a woman’s mouth—Kinsey’s mouth—in action was a huge part of the turn-on. Any guy claiming otherwise was lying through his teeth.

Doug had a big thing about telling the truth. And seeing Kinsey scoot on her knees to the foot of the sofa, watching her slender fingers take hold of the waistband of his pants and his boxers, following every movement she made as she stripped him down to his bare essentials, was better than any skin flick he’d ever seen.

His pants were binding his ankles when she slid back up his body, her bare breasts pressing on either side of his thickly rigid cock. She leaned down, her hair like strands of white silk on his skin, and pressed biting, sucking kisses all over his belly.

“Kinsey, I’m dyin’ here, darlin’.”

Without even lifting her head she answered, “I do believe that’s the point,” and then went right back to torturing him in ways he’d never considered possible. Where the hell had this woman been all of his life?

His cock strained upward, pushing into her chest. She slipped one hand between their bodies to hold him, squeezing rhythmically as her kisses came closer but never in contact with his erection. More than anything he wanted to feel her sweet lips around him, and he told her so with a sharp upward thrust.

She tsk-tsked against his skin, her hair now hanging between his legs and tickling mercilessly. Then again, it could’ve been her lips and her tongue and his wicked expectation causing the tingles.

Whatever it was, he wasn’t going to be able to take much more of this before he grabbed her and flipped her onto her back. He wanted to be inside her in the very worst way. He didn’t think he’d ever ached like this after nothing but a few kisses and a hand job that would’ve admittedly been a whole lot better if she’d actually stroked.

When he heard the phone ring, he groaned, but Kinsey didn’t stop what she was doing, except to slip both hands underneath his thighs. She pushed his legs up and toward his body until he lay there with his ankles caught up tight where his pants wrapped around them and his knees in the air and all of the family jewels exposed.

The phone stopped, and Kinsey sat up and grinned, not looking at his face, but at his package, which sent another surge of blood that direction. He pulsed, bobbed, and her grin widened. Oh, yeah. He knew it.

He was going to die.

A slow agonizing death by sex, he thought, might just be worth it, especially when she squirreled around down there between his spread thighs where all of America could have been getting a close-up view of every hair on his—

“Mmm,” Kinsey murmured, licking her lips and preparing to kill him. He watched as she opened her mouth into the most perfect O known to mankind. Then she wrapped those beautiful lips around the head of his cock.

Yes, yes. Oh, yes. This was what it was all about. This was what he’d been wanting, been waiting for, been…oh, good ever-lovin’ sweet…He groaned, and the sound came straight from his gut.

“You like?” She pulled away to ask the question.

Him? Like? He’d like it a whole lot better without having to talk about it. “You have no clue.”

“Oh, I don’t know.” She ran the tip of her tongue, the sweet little pointed tip only, around the head of his erection. “It’s quite nice from this angle.”

Was she talking about his taste? His size? What? Why was she talking at all? “That angle totally works for me.”

“Hmm.” She blew a long stream of warm air over the wetness her mouth had left behind, and he pretty much had to start thinking about elephant dung to keep from coming right then and there.

“I’m going to try something a little different here. Tell me if you like it.”

“Go for it, darlin’.” Elephant dung, elephant dung, big stinkin’ elephant dung.

His cock twitched, his balls drawing up into his body like two blue hockey pucks. Kinsey adjusted her position so that she was coming at him from directly above, and damn if she didn’t swallow him whole.

Un-friggin’-believable. She had all of him in her mouth. The grip of her hand was as firm as that of her lips as she slid up and down, sucking the life out of him. But he was going to be the only one here getting anything out of this if she didn’t stop. Oh, Mama, stop… “Kinsey?”

“Mmm?” she murmured, vibrating him from belly to balls.

“You are amazing.” Suck in a breath. “You are incredible.” Suck it in, bub. Suck it in. “But you are really going to have to cool it down there or dessert’s gonna be over, and you’re still going to be hungry.”

She chuckled. She had him in her mouth and she actually managed a laugh. But then slowly, as if she were counting each lick of a Tootsie Pop, she pulled her mouth from the base to the head of his cock and, pop, he was free.

He reached down between his legs and pressed hard against the pounding rush of blood. He squeezed his eyes shut, his panting breaths his only chance at salvation. He heard Kinsey rustling around, and when he finally found the control he needed to open his eyes without his geyser spouting…

Oh, hell and a half. Here we go again. All that rustling had been Kinsey stripping off her clothes.

Damn, but he’d wanted to do that.

Damn, but he didn’t care anymore.

Not when she stood there at the edge of the sofa, her bare skin glowing with the last of a summer tan. All of her skin, it seemed, but for a tiny strip where two strings would’ve tied a triangle of a bikini bottom over her mound.

Her nipples were a luscious peachy-pecan in the center of breasts too perfect to be real. Lucky man that he was, he knew that particular truth, however. His mouth began to water; his John Henry began to bob.

Enough with the ankle bondage and Kinsey not being underneath him. He sat up and swung around and was out of his sweater before his shoes hit the floor. He kicked them off; his pants followed. His shirt lost more than a button or two; his patience went flying off in the same direction.

She was just standing there, enjoying his struggle and looking as if being naked was as natural as not. Once he’d dug a condom from his billfold, he wasted no time in letting her know how much he liked her lack of inhibition, pulling her to stand between his legs and using his mouth the way he’d been waiting to forever.

As she took the condom from his hand and opened the packet, he held her hips and settled his mouth over her sex. He licked his way in and out of her folds until she whimpered and squirmed and did everything she could to push him down on to his back.

“Not yet, darlin’,” he mumbled into her sweetly swollen pussy. She tasted wonderful, clean and salty, as if she spent her days sunbathing after a Mediterranean swim. He swirled his tongue over and around her clit, then used his fingers to spread her open and push his tongue inside her.

She gasped even as she widened her stance and shoved her fingers into his hair to hold him where she wanted. He didn’t mind, but it wasn’t as if he was going anywhere just yet. He was having too much of a good time tasting and teasing and slurping her up to let go.

Except Kinsey decided she had other ideas, and moved a step away. He looked up into her mischievous eyes, a blond nymph toying with his condom packet as if he were a donkey and she held his carrot in her hand. In a manner of speaking, he supposed she did.

He sat back, his legs spread in a wide V, his hands laced on his belly behind his erection, which was more than ready for some action.

She tapped the condom wrapper to her chin as she considered all he had to offer. When she seemed to make up her mind, she dropped to her knees before him and rolled the sheath to the base of his shaft.

Thing was, while she was down there she made sure to let him know she wasn’t the least bit intimidated or put off by the male anatomy. For at least five minutes worth of what seemed like forever, he sat like a statue through kisses and forays she made with her fingers and tongue. He felt every end of every nerve fire off round after round of sensation that was not the least bit wholesome, but was sweet in ways that had him biting down on a mouthful of instructional expletives.

Just when he was ready again to grab her and toss her on to her back, she moved away, pushed his knees together, turned and straddled his lap in reverse. Sweet, gorgeous, baby, doll. The movement gave him such a memorable view of her ass that he swore he’d take the picture to his grave.

Then, reaching between her legs, she took hold of his cock and guided him to where he needed to be, lowering herself until he was completely buried in the hottest sweetest piece he’d ever had the pleasure to know.

Pleasure. No, that was weak. The word failed to cover half of what he felt when she took him inside. But he had to keep this physical. Feeling he could deal with; feeling rocked his world. Feeling meant he didn’t have to think.

He wasn’t sure what to do with his hands, finally setting them at her hips, where he could guide her angle, control her speed. He hated having to hold her at all; sitting back and just enjoying the view suited him just fine.

Seeing the sloping arch of her back, the wide-open space between her legs that revealed exactly what she was giving him and where his cock was buried…

He groaned, watching Kinsey slide down until his entire shaft disappeared, her hands braced on his knees for leverage and balance. Her tiny breathy moans had him clenching his gut and slipping one hand between her legs the next time she rose enough to give him the room.

He slid a finger through her wet folds to her clit, fingering the tight knot, testing her response, whether she liked soft and slow or hard and persistent or teasing butterfly flicks.

She liked all of it, judging by the way she pushed against him, ground against him, covered his hand with one of hers and pressed hard.

She cried out, softly at first, then with more volume as her contractions hit. She tightened around him, shuddering as she came, and then he couldn’t wait another single second. He unloaded hard and fast, thrusting upward and spilling himself until he was totally empty and spent.

He sank back into the sofa; Kinsey settled on to his lap, turning to face him without ever springing him free. How she managed, he had no idea. But he was glad that she still held him inside.

For a few more seconds, he needed this connection. He needed it more than he’d thought he could need anything from a woman. No. Anything from Kinsey.

And it was his Kinsey-specific need that made it hard to let her go.

Made it hard to admit that he wasn’t ready to go.

Made it hard to know if he ever would be.

KINSEY PULLED her bathrobe back up on to her shoulder and jabbed her fork into her salad. She was famished; earlier, she’d been too edgy to eat. Dessert first was a policy she’d have to adopt. At least when dining on Doug.

Dining on Doug.

She liked the sound of that, and she had certainly enjoyed the reality. “Mmm,” she moaned around a bite of chicken. “I don’t know why I was so worried. This is actually pretty good.”

One of Doug’s brows winged up as he looked at her over his glass of wine. “I thought you said you weren’t worried.”

“Did I?” she asked in all innocence.

“Yes. You did.”

“Hmm,” she hedged, ignoring his laugh at her lie. “Well, maybe I was a bit. But now I’m thinking I’d like to do this more often.” She reached for another slice of chicken breast. “You can be my guinea pig. At least for as long as you’re here.”

She hated adding that last part, but she had to face that one round of sexual Olympics was not going to convince him to continue calling Houston home. One round hadn’t even convinced her that she wanted him to stay.

Or so she deluded herself into thinking.

“I’m definitely game.” Doug reached over to drizzle papaya glaze onto her chicken. “On one condition.”

“What’s that?”

He paused, waited until she looked up from cutting her chicken before dropping his bomb. “That you’ll serve dessert first every time.”

He was so incredibly cute when he teased her. She loved that they were so comfortable together already that neither one of them hesitated to speak their mind.

After they’d showered and dressed and reheated the food, he’d made sure that his chair and hers were as close to the same corner of the square table as possible.

The result had been a lot of bumped knees and a very crowded table, but Kinsey adored him for wanting to keep her near. “Sex does rather stir up the appetite, doesn’t it?” She suppressed a grin while cutting her food. “I kinda like the idea of dessert first.”

“Kinsey.” Doug’s eyes flashed as he pulled his chair even closer. “Don’t tease me like that unless you mean it, darlin’.”

“Why, Doug Storey.” She swirled a bite of chicken through the puddle of glaze. “When have you ever known me to say something I didn’t mean?”

“Sixteen months ago on the veranda of Coconut Caye.”

Whoa! A blast from the past out of nowhere. If she’d had anything in her mouth, she would likely have choked. “During the group’s vacation? What did I say?”

He sat back in his chair, his knees spread wide, his unbuttoned shirt hanging open. She wanted to crawl into his lap and bury her nose in his skin, but decided this was not the right time.

No matter that he looked terribly dejected.

Strange. Why would he be dejected over something said so long ago in the heat of the moment and under the influence of rum?

“Then you don’t remember.”

She finished with the bite of her chicken, then moved to toy with what was left of her salad. “I remember…several things.”

“Like what?” He laced his hands over his flat abs and stretched out his legs even farther, hooking a foot around her chair leg and dragging her practically into his lap.

Two could play his game, she mused, abandoning her plate and propping her legs, ankles crossed, over his thighs. “Like the fact that we don’t fit well together standing up. Your legs are too long.”

He shook his head. “Your legs are too short.”

“My legs are not short.” She angled them this way and that until Doug did as she wanted and touched her, running his palm from her ankle to her knee.

“Not too short if you’re standing over my lap, but for normal vertical sex?” His mouth curled into a deliciously wicked grin. “Definitely too short.”

Kinsey tossed her open robe back over her legs, which he’d bared. “Then I suppose we were lucky the veranda had such a sturdy railing.”

“Then you do remember.”

“I told you I did. Would you like any more chicken?” she asked, not quite ready to give everything away.

But Doug wasn’t ready to let it go. “Do you know that I still have that pair of your bikini bottoms? String ties are truly a man’s best friend.”

She was not going to let him get to her. She was not, was not, was not. She had to let him know he’d met his match if a match was what she was looking to explore. Calm, cool and collected.

Ohhmmm. “Personally, I’m a big fan of those little tiny mesh pockets in swim trunks. The perfect size for stashing a condom.”

“Be Prepared, that’s my motto.”

“Stealing from the Boy Scouts these days?”

“Why not? Thousands of kids can’t be wrong.”

“Maybe not.” She went back to innocently moving lettuce and carrots around on her plate. “I just would’ve thought you might have more originality about you.”

She waited for one beat, two beats, three beats, four, and then she looked up. But the teasing Doug of seconds ago was gone. In his place brooded the Doug from earlier in the evening, the one who’d been fairly hard on himself for missing the meeting with Media West.

Her phone rang again. She ignored it. She wanted to know what was going on behind those intensely focused green eyes. Sure, they could banter and bed their way through a relationship, but she was certain, she knew, he had so much more to offer than a sexual good time.

And if she discovered that all this time she’d been wrong, well, then—

“Aren’t you going to get that?” he asked before the phone rang one last time.

She shook her head. “That’s what voice mail is for. I’m more curious to hear the voices in your head.”

“The ones telling me to haul you back to the sofa?”

That one she wouldn’t mind listening to herself. “No, the one that shut you down the second I questioned your originality.”

Doug snorted, glancing toward the living room, ignored her question the way guys usually did when they haven’t yet worked out the best possible reply in their minds. She supposed that was one thing she liked about him so much.

He was one-hundred-percent-predictable male, even while surprising her constantly.

He finally returned his hand to the leg he’d bared again, stroking her ankle in a circular motion, as if the movement allowed the gears in his head to engage. “The meeting I stayed in Denver to make?”

She nodded. “The one that caused you to miss the one here.”

“Yeah. That one.” He twisted his hand around her foot, stopped, started again. “It was over a restaurant design. A café, really. Two women who’d arranged their financing and were looking at models and plans.”

“And they didn’t like what you gave them.”

His mouth quirked. “Who’s telling this story, sister? You or me?”

She made the motion of zipping her lips.

“That’s better.”

“Hey,” she said, before remembering her virtual zipper. She mouthed the word, Sorry, and waited for Doug to go on.

“Warren Sill Group, the firm where I’ll be working in Denver, tossed the café my way. A welcome boon. Or so I thought.” He smirked. “The joke was on me. I learned the hard way that the café’s owners had turned up their noses at at least six top-notch concepts already.”

“And they made you number seven.” Kinsey broke her silence solely because she could sense what was coming and how painful the admission was going to be.

“Always been my lucky number, seven.” He shifted in his chair, moved her feet closer to the V of his legs and began to massage her soles. “Thing was, I’d seen what they’d vetoed and I’d read every word in the original proposal. I knew I’d nailed it. I knew it.”

But he hadn’t. She could tell he hadn’t, and that the setback had been a hard one to take. “I’m sorry. That must really suck. Especially with the added blow of disappointing your client here.”

“‘Blow’ just about covers everything,” he said with more than a touch of sarcasm. “I’ll get over it. Hell, I’m over it now.”

He obviously wasn’t, but she played along, wrapping her robe tighter around her shoulders and settling her legs more comfortably in his lap. “So, tell me about it.”

He frowned, stopped massaging in midrub. “About what? The meeting?”

“No, duh. The café’s design.” She smiled. “Astonish me with your brilliance.”

“I thought that’s what I just did in the living room,” he said, and the look in his eyes left her breathless.

Incorrigible flirt, making her heart beat like a jungle tom-tom. “Which part? The astonishment or the brilliance? Because I seem to recall doing most of the work.”

He squeezed her foot hard. “Do you want to hear about the design, or do you want to take this outside?”

“Bring it on, tough guy.”

He stared at her for several seconds, an expression on his face that she couldn’t define. His hands on her feet stilled while he seemed to consider where to take the conversation.

And then he shook his head; his lips quirked in a wry smile. “You don’t make it easy on a man, do you?”

Poor baby. He was not having one of his better days. She pulled her feet from his lap, tucked her robe around her body and leaned forward to kiss him. A simple kiss. Just a quick brush of her lips to his.

But Doug had other plans.

The moment their mouths made contact, his hands were in her hair, holding her head for a kiss that escalated beyond a comforting gesture into a desperate and needy embrace. He devoured her, and Kinsey’s mouth trembled.

She’d intended to soothe him, yet he seemed resistant to being easily calmed…as if…as if…nothing. She couldn’t express what she sensed in him except for a strange sort of despair.

And despair did not fit at all with what she knew of Doug Storey.

His kiss, on the other hand, was the one she remembered from Coconut Caye. Wild and hungry, reckless and hot. His tongue possessed her mouth, stroking over and around and along the length of hers, stirring both her body and her blood. Her heart raced, her breasts tightened, her sex quivered.

And then he was done, setting her away as quickly as he’d struck.

She sat back, stunned speechless by his shift in mood and emotion, thinking that she really had no idea what it was that made Doug tick. For months she’d enjoyed his company, but until hit with the news of his upcoming move, she hadn’t thought about Doug’s deeper appeal.

She’d really been stupid not to take him more seriously, not to learn what she could while she’d had the chance. A chance she now might never have.

“So,” she began, reaching for her napkin and dabbing it at her mouth. “What were we talking about?”

Doug sat up, stabbed at a bite of chicken, swirled it through a smear of papaya glaze on his plate. “About what you said to me during last summer’s vacation.”

“No. I’m sure that wasn’t it.” Think, think, think, Kinsey. Think. Why could she remember in great detail her rum-soaked ramblings from over a year ago, but nothing they’d said before that kiss? “The café. We were talking about the café and your design.”

Doug sighed, then shook his head, a momentary surrender, but she knew he’d be back. “My idea would actually have given the place more the look of a diner. But I went there with a reason after seeing what they’d been offered previously.”

“Which was?”

“They wanted retro.” He snorted. “And, no offense to anyone at Warren Sill, but I didn’t see a lot of thought in any of the concepts.”

Interesting. He wasn’t even settled into the job yet and the penis wars had already started. “Maybe it was a case of the group’s frustration in dealing with that particular client. I mean, why go all-out when faced with what sounds like guaranteed failure?”

“I don’t buy it.” He shook his head. “That’s a bogus way to work.”

She should’ve known he wouldn’t understand anything less than a commitment of two-hundred-plus percent. “Maybe, but it’s human.”

“Well, it would certainly account for the cliché after big stinkin’ cliché I saw. Booths and counters. Red vinyl. Black-and-white-checkerboard floor tiles. As if the designs were all dialed in.”

“Booths and counters say retro to me.”

He shrugged. “Sure. They say retro to everyone. But there’s a difference between retro and authentic. I read a New York Times quote once that basically said when it comes to retro fashion, historical accuracy is often beside the point.”

“And your diner design was authentic.”

He shook his head. “It was actually more reminiscent of a railroad dining car. True historic diners were prefab, usually stainless steel with porcelain enamel skins. I didn’t go quite that far.”

She felt her mouth tipping up in a smile. “Actually, I know that about diners.”

Doug blinked and then he grinned. “So? Astonish me with your brilliance already.”

“It’s a long strange series of coincidences that make the entire thing sound like fiction.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” he said, and settled back into his chair.

There he went again, making her feel like she was the center of his world. It was the sort of attention she was used to receiving before sex, not after, and it raised Doug’s rating a number of notches on her mating scale.

“I’m not sure if you’ve ever heard Sydney talk about her friend Izzy? Isabel Leighton?”

Doug shook his head. “Don’t think so.”

“I’ve heard her talk about her off and on, but only met her last year. The funny part is that I already knew her. Or I had known her, way back when we were kids and last names didn’t matter,” she explained, adding a cheery laugh.

“This is the truth being stranger than fiction part, right?” he asked, and she nodded.

“Izzy’s uncle works for my parents. He does lawns, theirs and several of their long-time neighbors. He put in my mother’s backyard pool garden.” She fluttered one hand expansively.

“Anyway, Izzy and her mother lived with her uncle Leonard for a while after her parents divorced, and he used to bring her along when he worked weekends. He’d take me with them to lunch at his mother’s diner, where her mother worked.”

“And it was original.”

“Yep. The whole long counter, the stainless-steel panels and spinning stools that Izzy and I had way too much fun playing on.” She shrugged, grinned. “They lost most of the original structure years ago during Hurricane Alicia. Anyway…” Ugh. Why was she rambling on?

Her cooking might not kill him, but she was definitely on the right track for babbling him to death. “That’s the extent of my diner-specific brilliance. And I really am sorry your concept didn’t work out. Nothing like starting off on the wrong foot, huh?”

Doug made a face as if blowing off her concern. “I suppose being the brunt of an inside joke didn’t sit well, but I’ll live. And I’ll hold on to the design.”

“And you should. You’ll get a chance to use it later. The railroad car idea sounds like a lot of fun. I can see the serving staff dressed like porters or engineers.”

“My thoughts exactly.” He pushed his plate away, rubbed his hands together with way too much glee and returned them to her legs. He tossed her robe open so that she was exposed from her toenails to her panties, before pulling the garment completely off her shoulders.

And then he reached for the papaya glaze.

Kinsey held her breath as Doug lifted the spoon toward her, and she curled her tongue to catch the sweet drizzle he poured. Except that he continued to pour even after she’d closed her mouth, dripping the sticky fruit glaze over one bare nipple before moving to the other.

Shudders rippled through her as she waited for Doug’s next move. Finally, he made it, leaning forward and lapping his way around one breast, from the underside to the upper curve before settling his lips over her tightly drawn nipple and licking her clean.