Read Online Knock Out (Worth the Fight) by Michele Mannon - Free Book Online
Authors: Michele Mannon
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remained while his cock thrust into her or, better still, when he made her scream his name. Keane wasn’t the kind of guy who ignored a challenge.
Slowly, he swung his legs off the bed and stood. She didn’t notice. Instead, her arms fluttered out to the sides and fingertips wiggled, caressing the air. Slight, quiet movements complimenting the mellowing beat of the music.
With a few long strides, he narrowed the distance between them, coming up behind her. Her chest was flushed a sweet shade of pink, its reflection in the mirror rising and falling with every breath. Heat rose up off her skin. Her hair was a mess, partly still swept up in a knot of sorts but mostly falling onto her shoulders in disarray. One part of her neck was bare, exposed, and to his liking.
The music began to crescendo. In response, she came up onto her toes. As the rhythm built, her bounces changed to small jumps with arms elongated over and upward. The tiny tutu fluttered as he stepped closer.
Hell, he’d been waiting all night for her to make a move, not pull away like she’d been nipped in the ankle by the devil. Her performance was both surprising, and flat-out stimulating.
Also, it was about to end.
On the next jump, his hands found her waist and caught her mid-flight. Her toes pointed downward and her body came to a fluttering halt as she dangled in the air.
“What...?” she gasped and stared at him, wide-eyed, in the mirror.
He let his hands reply, slowly lowering one of her legs to the floor. He hooked the curve of his arm behind her other knee, lifting higher and higher until her leg was back up beside her head. Returning her to this position made his blood run hot all over again.
Gently, he pressed his body against her back, bumping her up against the mirror. Their eyes locked while he waited for an invitation to continue.
She blinked but didn’t look away. A myriad of emotions appeared in her somber, green eyes. Uncertainty, nervousness...but, thank God, no fear. Desire flared deep within their depths.
Inch by inch, Keane lowered his head, breaking eye contact. Her back stiffened as his lips found the warm, exposed skin of her neck. He sucked, and her calf muscle twitched against his arm.
“Wouldn’t it be...easier on the bed?” she whispered.
He nipped at her neck and worked his tongue in an upward trail to the back of her ear. “Yep,” he breathed.
She ground her ass into him. He shifted her foot in his hand. Beginning at her ankle, he ran his fingers downward, over the raised skin of her scar, and still lower, over her bare calf. His other thumb moved in unison, massaging small circles across her inner leg.
Her tight muscles flexed beneath his digits. She liked it all right. A pleasant surprise, those muscular legs of hers. Long, endless legs, with skin so fucking soft, it felt like the fine chalk powder he poured into his fighting gloves.
He returned his tongue to what was becoming his favorite spot on her neck as thumb and fingers journeyed lower still. Flexing his abdomen into her back, he pushed her against the mirror.
His thumb shifted lower and, with fixed intention, rubbed over her panties, right between her legs.
Moving his tongue along the dewy trail to her ear, he whispered, low and deep, “Flex your leg higher.” Seeing her dance, that taut, limber body of hers moving, had given him ideas.
She gasped, and for a moment, he fought for control. The urge to unbutton his pants, part the red material between her legs and bury deep inside of her was that strong. Instead, he followed through on what he’d planned on doing since the first time she’d pulled that lovely leg up alongside her head.
He ran his thumb along the elastic band on the scant piece of material covering her center and, with a slight nudge, slid it beneath.
A shiver ran up her back and against his chest as he found her moist cleft.
“Oh my God,” she groaned.
He kissed her neck as his thumb pressed deeper, pulled away, and coated
Slowly, he swung his legs off the bed and stood. She didn’t notice. Instead, her arms fluttered out to the sides and fingertips wiggled, caressing the air. Slight, quiet movements complimenting the mellowing beat of the music.
With a few long strides, he narrowed the distance between them, coming up behind her. Her chest was flushed a sweet shade of pink, its reflection in the mirror rising and falling with every breath. Heat rose up off her skin. Her hair was a mess, partly still swept up in a knot of sorts but mostly falling onto her shoulders in disarray. One part of her neck was bare, exposed, and to his liking.
The music began to crescendo. In response, she came up onto her toes. As the rhythm built, her bounces changed to small jumps with arms elongated over and upward. The tiny tutu fluttered as he stepped closer.
Hell, he’d been waiting all night for her to make a move, not pull away like she’d been nipped in the ankle by the devil. Her performance was both surprising, and flat-out stimulating.
Also, it was about to end.
On the next jump, his hands found her waist and caught her mid-flight. Her toes pointed downward and her body came to a fluttering halt as she dangled in the air.
“What...?” she gasped and stared at him, wide-eyed, in the mirror.
He let his hands reply, slowly lowering one of her legs to the floor. He hooked the curve of his arm behind her other knee, lifting higher and higher until her leg was back up beside her head. Returning her to this position made his blood run hot all over again.
Gently, he pressed his body against her back, bumping her up against the mirror. Their eyes locked while he waited for an invitation to continue.
She blinked but didn’t look away. A myriad of emotions appeared in her somber, green eyes. Uncertainty, nervousness...but, thank God, no fear. Desire flared deep within their depths.
Inch by inch, Keane lowered his head, breaking eye contact. Her back stiffened as his lips found the warm, exposed skin of her neck. He sucked, and her calf muscle twitched against his arm.
“Wouldn’t it be...easier on the bed?” she whispered.
He nipped at her neck and worked his tongue in an upward trail to the back of her ear. “Yep,” he breathed.
She ground her ass into him. He shifted her foot in his hand. Beginning at her ankle, he ran his fingers downward, over the raised skin of her scar, and still lower, over her bare calf. His other thumb moved in unison, massaging small circles across her inner leg.
Her tight muscles flexed beneath his digits. She liked it all right. A pleasant surprise, those muscular legs of hers. Long, endless legs, with skin so fucking soft, it felt like the fine chalk powder he poured into his fighting gloves.
He returned his tongue to what was becoming his favorite spot on her neck as thumb and fingers journeyed lower still. Flexing his abdomen into her back, he pushed her against the mirror.
His thumb shifted lower and, with fixed intention, rubbed over her panties, right between her legs.
Moving his tongue along the dewy trail to her ear, he whispered, low and deep, “Flex your leg higher.” Seeing her dance, that taut, limber body of hers moving, had given him ideas.
She gasped, and for a moment, he fought for control. The urge to unbutton his pants, part the red material between her legs and bury deep inside of her was that strong. Instead, he followed through on what he’d planned on doing since the first time she’d pulled that lovely leg up alongside her head.
He ran his thumb along the elastic band on the scant piece of material covering her center and, with a slight nudge, slid it beneath.
A shiver ran up her back and against his chest as he found her moist cleft.
“Oh my God,” she groaned.
He kissed her neck as his thumb pressed deeper, pulled away, and coated
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