Читать книгу Get Your Sexy On - Kimberly Kaye Terry - Страница 13

“Thank you,” Sienna murmured when Mac removed her coat and, along with his leather jacket, hung both inside the closet near the front door.

Sienna walked farther into the living area and placed her bag on the oversized white sofa. “Your home is beautiful.”

“Thanks. But it’s temporary digs for me,” he replied, and leaned against the door frame, observing her.

His intent stare unnerved her and she caught herself fidgeting, playing with the strands of hair on her wig, before stopping herself. “Temporary?”

“Yes. I don’t live in this area. Just here on business.” He peeled himself from the wall and walked toward her.

“What type of business?”

“I’m a private investigator. My partner, Kyle, and I were here on a case. We were put up in these accommodations from our client. But he’s out. For the weekend.”

The clarification didn’t go over her head. He wanted her to know that they’d be alone for the weekend.

“Can I get you something? Food? Drink?” he murmured, the heat from his body reaching out to cocoon her in its warm embrace.

She licked suddenly dry lips. “Something to drink—nonalcoholic—would be nice.”

“Why don’t you sit down.” He waved a hand, indicating for her to choose somewhere to sit amongst the comfortable-looking chairs and sofas scattered throughout the large room. “I think I have something in the fridge. I’ll be right back.”

She glanced around the tastefully furnished, if sterile, room. She wasn’t surprised that it wasn’t his home. It didn’t fit his personality. Sienna imagined the place Mac called home would be much less put-together, yet just as appealing. It would be ruggedly attractive, much like he was.

Various prints were mounted and framed, carefully arranged around the room. Glass knickknacks were set on the built-in shelves and lined the mantle of the whitewashed brick fireplace.

Instead of sitting down, Sienna roamed the room and ran careful fingers over the art on the walls.

“All I have is apple juice and milk. Hope the juice is okay.” Mac interrupted her perusal of the beautiful print she was admiring.

“That’s fine.” She accepted the juice he held out for her. Despite the flutters in her stomach, she sat down next to him on one of the small love seats and placed her drink on the table in front of them.

Sienna reached for her drink. His large hand covered hers and brought it to his mouth. He opened her palm and placed a hot kiss directly in the center.

“You don’t have to be nervous. I’m going to take care of you, Sin.”

Mac pulled her closer and slanted his lips over hers, completely covering her mouth. After what had transpired between the two of them during her lap dance, he’d been as horny as his seventeen-year-old randy nephew.

Despite what happened in the club in front of that asshole, Damian Marks, Mac knew it had been more than a dance, more than a grind, for her as well.

He’d felt her slight body tremble, quivering, as she danced in his lap, grinding her body against his cock, and had witnessed the complete ecstasy in her eyes as the orgasm burned through her.

He’d been seconds away from coming as well—to hell with whoever was looking. For once, he’d been as caught up in a woman, a moment, as the woman he’d been pleasuring. Even if it had been in public, in full view of anyone who happened to glance their way.

Damn.

He didn’t know if he’d ever been that turned on. Not since he’d been a grown man, at any rate. Had it not been for his concern for her, his desire to shield her from gawkers, he wouldn’t have given a damn who saw what he was doing to her in the club. What she had been doing to him.

And now he planned on finishing what they started.

He pushed her down on the sofa and covered her body with his, not giving up the connection of her lush, beautiful lips with his.

He tunneled his fingers through her hair, pulled her head tighter, closer. “Why are you still wearing this?” he asked, pulling on the wig.

“I can take it off.” She sounded hesitant, almost shy. With a brief nod, he asked her to remove the wig.

She pulled out several pins and removed the wig. She wore her dark hair short. The thick curls softly framing her face made her look younger than she did in the heavy makeup and fake hair she wore while dancing.

“God, this is the wrong time to ask this, but how old are you?” He held his breath. Shit! If she wasn’t legal, no matter how much he wanted to make love to her, there was no way in hell he’d have sex with a minor.

Her startled laughter rang out. “No fears. I’m definitely over the age of consent. I can show you ID if you need it.” Despite his raging hard-on, Mac felt like laughing at her quip.

“No, I’ll take your word for it,” he said, and pulled her full, bottom rim between his teeth and sucked it, pulled on it, bit it, licked it, and shoved his tongue into the moist cavern of her mouth.

“Damn, your mouth is sweet.” He broke away from her. He’d wanted to take it slow with her, as slow as he could. But he couldn’t. He needed to feel her, naked and writhing, beneath him.

Mac watched her closely as he unbuttoned her blouse and unclipped the front closure of her bra. He stifled a groan when her small, creamy brown breasts, slightly lighter in complexion than her face, tumbled free, and her dark cherry budded nipples stood erect and proud, begging for his touch.

He cupped one of the perfect mounds in one hand and stroked a hard, calloused thumb over the protruding nipple, fascinated by the way it stretched and elongated the more he manipulated it.

“Hmmm,” she groaned, and his gaze flew to her face.

“You like that?” he asked gruffly, and she nodded, eyes closed.

“Yes,” she answered, her breath coming out in soft puffs of air.

“You’ll like what I’m going to do next, more. Lift your hips.”

She lifted her small hips and Mac slid her jeans, along with her panties, down her legs in one smooth motion, exposing her.

He tossed the clothes on the floor without looking, keeping his eyes locked on her bared body. One of her legs dangled off the side of the sofa, the other was perched on one of the cushions, leaving her open to him.

He’d seen her dancing, nearly naked, for a week, yet it hadn’t prepared him for what she’d look like nude.

Although small, her breasts seemed large in comparison to her waist, but her hips and thighs flared out, toned and smooth.

Instead of being shaved smooth, as he suspected she would be, she had a small thatch of hair covering her pussy. It was centered, in a perfect line, down the middle of her mound. Short enough that he could see her tiny clit poking out.

Mac’s index finger feathered over her tuft, seeing if the curls were as soft as they appeared, before separating the lips of her vagina. It turned him on that the skin of her inner lips was a darker brown than the skin on her body.

He dipped his fingers inside and screwed his fingers inside her drenched slit. He withdrew them, soaked with her juices, and licked her cream away.

His own breath was becoming as labored as hers when his gaze traveled to her face and he saw the stamp of arousal there. His nostrils flared as the heady smell of her arousal wafted up to his nose, engulfing him in its heady embrace.

He wondered how many men she’d done this with. How many men had she danced for and allowed to take her home, allowed to stroke and lick her?

How many men had tasted a bit of sin?

“What—what’s wrong?” she asked.

He felt her immediate unease and schooled his features away from the anger he felt tightening his face. The hesitancy, the aloneness he’d detected in her from the moment he’d first seen her on stage, was starkly at odds with the side of her personality that allowed her to strip her clothes and dance for a bevy of strangers on a nightly basis.

Mac was uneasy with the duality in her nature. He also felt uncomfortable with his anger.

The urge to find the score of nameless men she’d shed her clothes for, exposed her beautiful body to, and knock their teeth down their collective throats raised a red haze of anger, clouding his vision and his mind.

He clenched his teeth and forcibly shoved the need out of his head and concentrated on the woman in front of him.

“Nothing’s wrong. You’re beautiful.”

“Thank you,” she returned huskily. He knew he hadn’t said enough to reassure her. She needed reassurance that only he could provide.

He wasn’t an eloquent man. He didn’t know how to communicate to her, the need he had, the newness of it, the connection he’d had with her from the moment he’d seen her on stage—something he didn’t understand.

“You can trust me.”

She needed the flowery words, but he didn’t know how to express the intensity of his attraction to her.

Damn, he hoped she trusted he would take care of her, if only for this night. She didn’t need to fear him.

Her pink tongue swiped the generous swell of her lower lip. His heart clenched when she gave a hesitant smile. “Yes,” she said, and cleared her throat. “I trust you.”

He groaned, leaned down, pressed himself against her, and captured her lips within his. Minutes passed as he sucked and caressed her lips, until both of their breaths were ragged.

Reluctantly he released her mouth and trailed lingering kisses down her throat; his dick hard, pressing instantly against her bared core. He laved her neck, swirling his tongue in the hollow of her throat.

One hand found and cupped the soft swell of one breast, tugging at the erect nipple. The other hand trailed down her body, searching for and finding the minute thatch of curls guarding the entry at the apex of her thighs.

He tunneled his hands past the furred vee, separated the lips of her vagina, and alternately stroked down each side. She was hot and creamy, her sweet dew sticky, covering his fingers, and Mac groaned, imagining the feel of it saturating his cock.

He slipped one finger inside her tight, moist opening and massaged her plump clit, rubbing the hard, blood-filled tip until she whimpered, crying out from the pleasure he gave her.

He inserted another finger and rubbed her clit with his thumb as he pumped his fingers in and out of her body.

Sienna tossed her head against the soft cushions on the sofa and arched her body sharply into his. “That feels good, so damn good.”

He stifled his own groans when her silken walls clamped down on his fingers. While one hand continued to minister to her pussy, the other molded her breast.

He nibbled kisses on her lips, licking the full lower rim, nipping it, before recapturing her mouth in a hot kiss. Her luscious lips were soft and wet. Perfect. Just like the rest of her.

Mac gently pried open her mouth, inserted his tongue, and groaned into her mouth, searching for her tongue.

He released her mouth and rained kisses down her throat, between her ample breasts, before journeying over to capture one tight, erect bud, pulling the long nipple into his mouth and nursing from her.

He reluctantly released his hold on her breast and pulled his fingers out of her clenching walls, ignoring her cry of protest. Easing his body down the sofa, he dropped to his knees on the floor and arranged her body, placing both of her legs over his shoulders, and leaned into her pussy.

Mac inhaled deep, taking in her heady scent. He placed two fingers alongside the lips of her vagina and separated them. He licked the side of her thigh, laving a trail to the core of her, and stroked her from the back of her opening to the tip of her hood, and pulled the hidden treasure inside his mouth.

“Oooh!” she screamed, her body jerking, her thighs clenching against his head, keeping him right where she wanted him to be.