The way he cocked his head to the side made him even more scrumptious. “What’s so funny?”
“Look at you. What, do you work out like sixteen hours a day? I mean, seriously?” I tried to sit up. Franklin slapped a palm to the center of my bosom and held me down.
I pinched at various points on his body, hoping to find flabby skin or an ounce of fat somewhere.
Perfection. Head to toe.
How could I get naked next to him?
“No fat anywhere? Come on.”
Before I could grunt in frustration, he clasped my hands over my head and with warm, moist lips, nibbled my earlobe. “Your turn to strip.”
Oh, my. This was happening. With graceful ease, he freed my arms and removed my shirt and bra. Had I the inclination to stop him, it was too late. We’d passed the point of no return.
My nipples took on a life of their own, begging for attention. “Holy shit, baby. Look at you.” He gazed upon them with feral hunger, but didn’t tend to my breasts right away. Instead, he smoothed his hand over my stomach and ran a finger under the waistband of my yoga pants. He slid down the length of my legs, trailing kisses across my abdomen, paying special attention to the soft area around my navel. I quivered under his strokes, an embarrassing display of unbridled lust. He looked up at me. I turned away. I would shatter if I got lost under that intense scrutiny again.
I closed my eyes and focused on the heated trails his lips and tongue blazed across my skin. When he snagged the sides of my waistband and peeled my pants down my hips, my insides exploded with cruel bursts of fear and self-doubt.
One-Date Tate.
I wouldn’t let the ugly in. Not tonight. I wanted him, whether it led to something more or not.
I clasped his wrists. “Stop.”
Stop. I regretted the word before it left my lips. Franklin’s shoulders slumped, his chest rose and fell, forcing a puff of frustrated air across my abdomen. He looked at me without lifting his head and tugged my pants back to my waist.
“Franklin, wait.” I sat up, meeting him face to face. “I don’t want you to stop. It’s just…” Oh, crap. Never, in the two months that I’d known him, did I expect to have this conversation with Franklin. “I don’t have any condoms. I’ve no use for them. Don’t date very often.” More like, don’t date ever. I’d been on birth control for years to regulate my periods, but that was TMI for this situation. Heated bursts of blood hit my cheeks and he reached up to cup the side of my face.
“I don’t either.” He dotted my nose and forehead with soft kisses and sat up, gracing me with a playful grin. “I’m not ready to stop. We can still have fun.”
With panther-like grace, he pushed himself off the bed and stood over me, chest heaving, eyes burning. Holding me captive with his hypnotic stare, he slid his hands to the waistband of his jeans and worked the first clasp with slow, guarded movement. The bulge behind the fabric filled me with prickles of anticipation. The sweet torture amplified when I noticed the flex of muscle in his forearms as he maneuvered each button with rugged hands. I couldn’t wait until those fingers touched my most sacred of places, and somehow I knew they would know exactly where to go and what to do.
I licked my lips and watched the show, eager yet terrified of what was to come. Thank God, I’d showered and reacquainted myself with Lady Bic.
Much to my disappointment, Franklin unfastened three buttons and stopped. He zeroed in on my waistband once again. There was no slow-and-gentle this time. In one swift move, my pants disappeared, leaving me bare.
I wished I had a camera to capture the expression on his face. “No panties? You are so fucking sexy.” He continued removing his jeans.
“Let me.” I sat up and scooted toward the edge of the bed. I needed to touch him, to feel his naked flesh under my palm. His erection jerked against my fingers. I undid his last two buttons and peeled his jeans down his thighs, leaving him in nothing but black boxer briefs. He kicked the denim to the side and bent to kiss me, blocking my attempt at removing his last article of clothing. “Not yet. Tonight is for you.”
Franklin Reed knelt before me, maneuvered his body between my thighs and lifted a heavy, aching breast to his mouth. A strange noise rose from my throat. Holy cow, did I whimper? He pulled deep on my nipple and sucked. Currents of ecstasy pulsed through me, and I gripped the edge of the mattress to anchor myself.
His tongue brushed over the sensitive flesh. Driven by instinct, I grabbed his head and pulled him harder against my swollen D-cups. Franklin moved from one breast to the other and mumbled something about soft and sweet. I couldn’t respond. I could barely form a coherent thought. My insides burned. Every flick of his tongue, every brush of his lips, made me quiver and crave more.
Then his fingers found my sex. I ached down there. An ache that pulsed in sync with the flow of blood pounding in my ears. When his thumb grazed the surface of my sensitive tissue, I moaned. I’d never moaned before. Not with desire, anyway. I couldn’t take much more. Certainly I’d be reduced to ash if he continued. Franklin spread my thighs wider and lowered his head.
Oh. My. I’d never seen anything more sensual than Franklin’s head between my legs and dreamy blue eyes promising me pleasure beyond reason. “I’ve waited too long to taste you,” he whispered before plunging his tongue between my wet folds.
The way he’d worked my mouth with kisses was child’s play compared to what he did down there. With each stroke, each suck, nibble, plunge…I convulsed in wanton pleasure. I fisted the bedding, ground my hips against his face. My legs, reacting to his unspoken commands, wrapped around his neck. I squeezed my thighs together to speed things up or slow them down. Hell, I hadn’t a clue what I needed or wanted, except more.
I’d never been consumed so completely—mind, body and spirit. I needed him inside me, controlling, possessing. He gave everything. I wanted more.
A tempest brewed within me. I tried to slow him down. I was so sensitive, wound so tight, there was no way I’d survive the release. When he plunged two fingers inside me, I threw myself back on the bed and bucked my hips in a shameful display. The violent orgasm nearly shattered me on its own, but Franklin latched on and sucked hard, drawing my release farther. The mixture of pain and pleasure was so intense, so exhausting, I couldn’t muster strength to open my eyes when he crawled on top of me and pressed his erection against my belly.
His lips found mine and I grabbed his ass when he pumped himself between our flesh. Weary as I was, I met his thrusts and opened my eyes when he growled my name, his semen spilling onto my skin. He trembled and collapsed at my side, resting a heavy, muscled thigh across my hips.
Much to my surprise and shame, I started to cry.
* * * *
“What the hell?” I mumbled through garbled sobs, too wrung out to turn away from him.
“Fuck, baby.” Franklin leaned over me and pulled my chin to face him. “What is it? What’s wrong?”
“Nothing’s wrong.” I wiped pesky tears from my eyes. “That was… Wow. I’ve never been, you know, not like that. It’s never been so intense.” A white lie. I’d never been kissed down there, let alone brought to the brink of death and back. The very idea of oral pleasure had always seemed taboo, despite being, in my opinion, more intimate than intercourse. I’d feared I would be too self conscious or bashful to enjoy it. I wasn’t, not with Franklin. Sexy. Wanton. Uninhibited. Anything but shy.
The wrinkles on his forehead deepened. “You’re not telling me something.”
Seriously, how did he know? “Okay, smart guy. I’ve never done the oral sex thing. I’ve never orgasmed with a man. I’ve suffered through exactly two sexual experiences, both with fumbling boys who didn’t have a clue what they were doing. Neither did I for that matter.”