Stripped Bare(9)

By: Emma Hart

“No, thank you.” He shut the door behind him. The white shirt he was wearing had the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, and its tailored fit perfectly hugged his muscular body.

I swigged from the glass of wine I’d poured myself from the fully stocked mini fridge and then gulped it down. The glass clinked as I put it down on the counter, but before I could turn, I felt the warmth of his hard body behind me.

He rested his hands on the edge of the counter and leaned into me. His breath was hot as it skittered across my neck, and his lips brushed my earlobe as he spoke. “Nervous again, Mia?”

I paused, sucking my lower lip between my teeth. There was no use in denying it. I was. “A little. There was a good chance I was under the influence of, well, you when I proposed this earlier tonight.”

“Would you like me to leave?”

“Whoa now. That’s a little rash.” I turned around so I was perching on the counter instead.

My gaze traveled across his upper body, from his slender waist to his broad shoulders and his toned arms, to his sharp, stubble-dusted jaw and the perfect, soft-looking, pink lips that were quirked up in amusement.

“I’m gonna go with no. Don’t leave.”

“Are you sure?”

I was still watching his lips. If they were that hot when he spoke, how hot would they be elsewhere? Namely, between my legs?


“Good.” That was all he said before he slid his hand around the back of my neck and pulled my face toward his.

Our lips met, and my first thought was that they were as soft as I’d imagined, and the second was, Oh, fuck me.

My hands found their way up his body and around his neck. He kissed me so firmly that my head swam as his tongue flicked against the seam of my mouth. The simple touch sent a bolt of fiery lust hurtling through me, and I wound my fingers in his hair and pressed my body against his.

The kiss deepened, so our tongues met, and he wrapped his arm around my waist, holding me in place. It took only seconds for the kiss to grow to something more, and my body reacted in a startlingly strong way.

He swung me around and pushed me back toward the bed, releasing the back of my neck. Then he fell with me, and as my leg bent, my dress rode up my thigh. He took it as an invitation, and his rough palm trailed up it, taking the dress up even farther until it was bunched around my waist.

“You didn’t mention your name,” I gasped when he kissed his way down my neck. My hands moved to undo the buttons of his shirt, my back arching.

“West,” he replied, the word a murmur against my skin. “Now you know what to scream when I fuck you.”

Yes. Yes, I did.

His teeth grazed across my pulse point, and I pushed my body against him. I undid the final button of his shirt, and my hands explored his body as his mouth moved across my chest. My heart thundered in my chest when he pulled the straps of my dress down over my shoulders. The tingles left in the wake of his fingertips scorched, and before I knew it, my dress was bunched around my hips, my bra was unclasped, and his mouth was around my nipple.

His tongue roughly teased it, and he rolled the tip over the sensitive, hardened bud. I arched beneath him, but my hips bucked at the same time, so my pussy pushed right up against his hard cock.

Fuck. It felt bigger than it’d looked earlier.

I felt his smile rather than saw it as he moved down my body. He was swift and exercised control in every movement he made, whether it was a kiss or a grab of my thigh. It was erotic—a total turn-on. My breathing sped up as he dropped to his knees, grabbed my ankles, and yanked my ass to the edge of the bed.

I could read him, or maybe he was reading aloud to me.

He loved control.

I loved it everywhere but...there.

West trailed a fingertip up the inside of my thigh, his mouth deftly following behind it. He didn’t kiss me—rather, he dragged his lips across the ticklish skin until his face was close to the apex of my thighs and I felt his breath over my panties as he exhaled.

He hooked one finger beneath the lacy fabric and moved it to the side. My chest heaved as his gaze settled on my aching, wet pussy, and he touched one finger to it.

“Mia,” he murmured, moving his mouth to the top of my thigh and kissing, pushing the finger inside me. “Look how fucking wet you are.”