Read Online In For the Kill by Shannon McKenna - Free Book Online Page B

breasts.
    â€œNo,” he said sharply. “Leave it, Sveti.”
    She dropped it, startled. She held herself so straight, tits out proudly, but her lips quivered with the strain of looking nonchalant. Too bad. She got no quarter. She’d asked for it, and she was getting it. Like she’d never gotten it before, or would again. It was a holy vow.
    â€œI wouldn’t let you run away in any kind of shoes,” he said. “It’s too late for that. In case you were considering it.”
    Her chin lifted. “I’m not considering it.”
    He sidled around her, placing himself between her and the door. Closing it, before herding her into the room, closer to the bed. Slowly.
    â€œAbout those four-inch heels,” he said. “Show me.”
    It had seemed like a nonthreatening way to start the process of disrobing her. Then she lifted the frilled hem over her ankles.
    Whoa. He started to sweat, and he wasn’t even a foot guy. He’d never paid much attention to feet, other than the occasional under-the-table sex game. But those shoes, Jesus. They were a message arrowing straight to his core. He understood it like the silent, wordless language of kisses. The arched delicacy of her feet propped onto teetering heels, the aggressive, pointy toes, the fierce ruby shine, the sexy slave-girl tangle of complicated ankle straps, the brash rhinestone buckle. The shoes told him how she longed to be taller, sharper, tougher. Powerful and sexy. How she wanted to be wanted. It made his chest twist and his cock ache. “Wow,” he said. “Ruby slippers. Very cruel.”
    She licked her dry lips. “I’m not cruel.”
    â€œNo? Take them off, then.”
    She laughed, silently. “I’ll get a sore neck, looking up at you.”
    â€œShould have picked a short guy for your boy toy.”
    She winced. So did he. Fuck. The words had just fallen out.
    He seized her upper arms, tugged her closer. “I don’t mean to be an asshole, but I have to remind myself of what this thing is, and what it isn’t. That way I won’t get into a bad place about it. Get me?”
    Her throat bobbed. She nodded and then let out a barely audible squeak as he sank to his knees, like a supplicant. He hiked her skirt up, pressing handfuls of it against her clenched, shaking fists.
    â€œLift it,” he prompted. “Show me more.”
    She got on with it, dragging the skirt up, a slow, intensely erotic reveal, all the sexier for how clumsy she was. Her exposed ankles made his cock twitch in his pants. Likewise the shapely calves, the narrow, slender knees. She faltered, halfway up her graceful silk-and lace-clad thighs. Her arms were full of swags of soft crimson fabric.
    â€œChickening out?” he asked.
    She tossed her hair back. Jerked the skirt up. A frilled band of black lace, trimmed with crimson rosettes, contrasted starkly with the pale perfection of her upper thighs.
    He pushed her hands higher, to look at the panties. Black lace, stretched over the trimmed-up swatch of muff. His heart thundered.
    â€œBeautiful,” he muttered. “Did you wear this stuff for me?”
    She murmured incoherently and nodded. And he believed her. She’d gone to the wedding with Ass-bite, but the lingerie was for him. The shoes, the dress, the shimmering body glitter, the scented lotion. That perfect little fastidiously groomed muff. “I love it.” He pressed his face against her mound and inhaled her intoxicating woman scent.
    Each heaving lungful made him gasp for more.
    She moaned, twisting his hair as he scattered lingering, pleading kisses over that festive swirl of ringlets at the top of her cleft. He wanted to insinuate his tongue into that vortex. Taste the sweet girl juice.
    Rein it in, dickhead. He had to set the bar so high, it’d ruin the sex she’d have with other guys forever. Spiteful of him, yeah, but too bad. It was his only revenge for how badly