thought. “Show me what you’ve got.”
He unbuckled his belt.
“No, no, no, you are not just going to drop your pants for a second or two. I want everything off, jacket, shirt, slacks.” She shot him a saucy grin and leaned forward, voice lowered once again. “Everything except your panties.”
Oh man, she was laying it on. The lady was into payback. “Yes, ma’am.” He hung the suit on a free hook, loosened his tie, and unbuttoned his shirt. Finally, he toed off his shoes and peeled off his socks.
Then he prepared himself for whatever comeuppance she planned to dish out.
5
HIS eyes were a smoky blue under the dressing room lights. Hair dusted his tanned chest, trailing down his defined muscles and flat abdomen, tapering to a thin line that disappeared beneath the waistband of his slacks. Josie’s mouth watered. She didn’t like excessively hairy men. She wasn’t attracted to pasty white skin. Kyle had just the right amount of everything. Especially the bulge in his pants.
When she’d seen him eyeing the lingerie, picking things out for her, she’d gotten wet. When he called her baby , she’d actually lost her breath. She didn’t go in for silly endearments like sweetheart or darling or honey—that had been a tease for him—but low and husky, his voice made the pet name sexy, hot.
She finally found her own voice. “What are you waiting for?”
“For you to tell me exactly what to do.”
Oh yeah. Just as he’d told her what to do yesterday. She wondered if he’d actually be wearing her panties. “Take off your pants. Now.” She paused, tipped her head. “But do it slowly.”
He revealed a centimeter at a time. Green satin. Then a glimpse of red, the little flower. She covered her mouth. His image would be reduced to the ridiculous. She’d have a leg up on him. He might even decide to call it quits and return to business only. Men could be so touchy about their masculinity. If he balked, it didn’t matter to her. Getting back to all business was fine. Even if he did make her as hot and wet as Little Red Riding Hood running from the Big Bad Wolf. She’d long since figured out there was a sexual undertone to that fairy tale.
His zipper undone but a hand blocking her full view, he hesitated, caught her gaze, his eyes a blazing blue, and she knew he’d back out, wouldn’t show, wouldn’t give her that last inch.
He fooled her. Grabbing his slacks at the waist, he shoved them down, then kicked them aside.
Good God. A wave of heat flushed her whole body. The crown of his hard cock burst above the satin’s elastic top, the embroidered flower stretching over his length. The material could barely contain his cock and balls.
“Is it so tight it hurts?” she whispered with a touch of awe. God. How could he be so gorgeous?
He laughed. “It hurts my pride more than anything.” Then he lowered his voice to match hers. “But the way you’re looking at me makes it worth it.”
“How am I looking at you?”
“Like you could eat . . . me . . . up,” he said, his voice husky.
Even as she watched, come pearled along his tip. Her tongue slipped out; she licked her lips. He was right. She could eat him up, all of him.
It was like looking at a sleek, powerful swimmer in his Speedo.
Or Superman in his tight super-suit. Everything was there right before her eyes. She could almost taste the bead of come, and her mouth watered. Her stomach tightened with need. If she’d thought to emasculate him, she’d done the opposite. Her thong somehow enhanced his maleness, brought out the potent animal in him. Not that she hadn’t known that was there. He oozed masculinity from every pore. She could smell it, taste it, feel its vibration in the air, and she wanted it badly.
She wanted to touch him, cup him in her hands, drink that tiny drop of his male essence, close her eyes, and savor the hot saltiness.
It wasn’t as if she meant to, but suddenly she was on the carpeted floor at his feet,
He unbuckled his belt.
“No, no, no, you are not just going to drop your pants for a second or two. I want everything off, jacket, shirt, slacks.” She shot him a saucy grin and leaned forward, voice lowered once again. “Everything except your panties.”
Oh man, she was laying it on. The lady was into payback. “Yes, ma’am.” He hung the suit on a free hook, loosened his tie, and unbuttoned his shirt. Finally, he toed off his shoes and peeled off his socks.
Then he prepared himself for whatever comeuppance she planned to dish out.
5
HIS eyes were a smoky blue under the dressing room lights. Hair dusted his tanned chest, trailing down his defined muscles and flat abdomen, tapering to a thin line that disappeared beneath the waistband of his slacks. Josie’s mouth watered. She didn’t like excessively hairy men. She wasn’t attracted to pasty white skin. Kyle had just the right amount of everything. Especially the bulge in his pants.
When she’d seen him eyeing the lingerie, picking things out for her, she’d gotten wet. When he called her baby , she’d actually lost her breath. She didn’t go in for silly endearments like sweetheart or darling or honey—that had been a tease for him—but low and husky, his voice made the pet name sexy, hot.
She finally found her own voice. “What are you waiting for?”
“For you to tell me exactly what to do.”
Oh yeah. Just as he’d told her what to do yesterday. She wondered if he’d actually be wearing her panties. “Take off your pants. Now.” She paused, tipped her head. “But do it slowly.”
He revealed a centimeter at a time. Green satin. Then a glimpse of red, the little flower. She covered her mouth. His image would be reduced to the ridiculous. She’d have a leg up on him. He might even decide to call it quits and return to business only. Men could be so touchy about their masculinity. If he balked, it didn’t matter to her. Getting back to all business was fine. Even if he did make her as hot and wet as Little Red Riding Hood running from the Big Bad Wolf. She’d long since figured out there was a sexual undertone to that fairy tale.
His zipper undone but a hand blocking her full view, he hesitated, caught her gaze, his eyes a blazing blue, and she knew he’d back out, wouldn’t show, wouldn’t give her that last inch.
He fooled her. Grabbing his slacks at the waist, he shoved them down, then kicked them aside.
Good God. A wave of heat flushed her whole body. The crown of his hard cock burst above the satin’s elastic top, the embroidered flower stretching over his length. The material could barely contain his cock and balls.
“Is it so tight it hurts?” she whispered with a touch of awe. God. How could he be so gorgeous?
He laughed. “It hurts my pride more than anything.” Then he lowered his voice to match hers. “But the way you’re looking at me makes it worth it.”
“How am I looking at you?”
“Like you could eat . . . me . . . up,” he said, his voice husky.
Even as she watched, come pearled along his tip. Her tongue slipped out; she licked her lips. He was right. She could eat him up, all of him.
It was like looking at a sleek, powerful swimmer in his Speedo.
Or Superman in his tight super-suit. Everything was there right before her eyes. She could almost taste the bead of come, and her mouth watered. Her stomach tightened with need. If she’d thought to emasculate him, she’d done the opposite. Her thong somehow enhanced his maleness, brought out the potent animal in him. Not that she hadn’t known that was there. He oozed masculinity from every pore. She could smell it, taste it, feel its vibration in the air, and she wanted it badly.
She wanted to touch him, cup him in her hands, drink that tiny drop of his male essence, close her eyes, and savor the hot saltiness.
It wasn’t as if she meant to, but suddenly she was on the carpeted floor at his feet,
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