I Cross My Heart. Vicki Thompson Lewis
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wrapped her hands around the amazing length and breadth of what had been constrained inside those briefs, she was awed…and grateful. If not for a burning recliner and a bottle of wine later on, she might never have held such a treasure, or anticipated the joy that treasure might bring.
She started to sink to her knees.
“No, wait.” He grasped her by her elbows and drew her back up. “Let’s get rid of the rest of our clothes. Once you start doing that, I won’t want to stop for anything, and I can’t maneuver when we’re still dressed.”
“You bet.” While he pulled off his boots, she nudged off her sandals and stepped out of her panties and capris. The soft light of the sunset filtered through her pink sheer curtains and gave the room a rosy glow. She’d never brought a man, or even a teenage boy, here before. She was glad the place held no memories of other guys. That made tonight unique.
“There.” Tossing the last of his things to the floor, he stood before her in all his aroused glory. The evening shadows made him seem slightly mysterious, a phantom man come to claim her. “Where were we?”
In the semidarkness, she grew bold. “I think we left off here.” She flattened her palms against his sculpted chest. Leaning forward, she pressed her mouth against his breastbone. His skin was hot, and his heart throbbed against her hand.
He tasted like heaven and sin all wrapped up in the musky aroma of pure male. Slowly she made her way down his torso, hands stroking, mouth nibbling, until she reached her goal and dropped to her knees. As she curled her fingers around his generous endowment, he groaned.
“I thought you weren’t any good at this.” He sounded hoarse and not nearly as in control as he had been moments ago.
“I’m not.” She placed a soft kiss on the head of his penis.
He sucked in a breath. “I beg to differ.”
“Maybe you inspire me.” He might never realize how much. Obviously she’d never abandoned the fantasy of a cowboy lover—strong and daring, yet tender and kind—but she’d never indulged that fantasy. Tonight she would.
His voice was strained. “Bethany…”
“I’m here.” With that, she took him into her mouth and felt the power of making a man her slave.
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