The Officer Says "I Do" Read Free Page B

sigh.
    “Comm. I’m a Comm guy.” There. Hopefully that was enough to satisfy her. To ensure her silence, he sealed his mouth over hers.
    God, she tasted good, like something light and not entirely tamed. She groaned in his mouth, firing his blood more. He leaned and shifted enough to get a good grip on her hips, then sat back and dragged her over so that she straddled his lap. Letting his hands wander down, he felt the piece of fabric she called a skirt bunched up around the top of her hips, leaving nothing but a scrap of lace between her core and his fingers.
    He pulled his head back long enough to yank her tank top off, throwing it behind him. Only he forgot the couch backed up to a wall and the back of his hand bashed against a picture frame and her tank top slithered down to drape around his shoulders.
    “Shit,” he groaned. Was that the picture frame or his hand he heard crack? Before he could check for damage to either, he glanced up and his mouth watered at the sight in front of him.
    See-through black lace cups offered up firm breasts, and he took one pebbled nipple in his mouth. The rasp of fabric and his tongue had her panting, moaning his name.
    That was a sound he could get used to. Pain was a long-forgotten sensation.
    Quick fingers undid the front hook and he brushed the bra aside and down her arms. He moved his attention to her other breast, sucking and nibbling, inhaling the faint scent of her. Clean, fresh, like she just stepped out of the shower. No cloying, overly sweet, fake scent. He focused on her breasts with the utmost concentration. If he let his mind wander to the nearly-bare heat pressing against his groin, he’d never last. He needed her desperate for him before he even attempted to go further.
    Her nails scraped in his short hair, scouring his scalp. He could feel her galloping heartbeat under his palm as he massaged her other breast. Her hips thrust forward, rubbing her against him, begging for more.
    He ran a palm down her stomach. Reaching that layer of lace, he traced one finger down her seam, felt the dampness of her arousal through the lace. He damn near lost it then, knowing how primed and ready she was. But his control was a thing of legend, and he wasn’t about to let it go now. He debated for a moment, then took a good hold of the side of her panties and ripped until the fabric split in half.
    She gasped and stared at him with wide, wild eyes. She was a goner, and it gave him a fierce sense of satisfaction.
    He shoved the fabric aside and let his fingers drift once, twice over her damp lips before pushing one finger deep into her wet heat. She groaned, and he would have sworn her pupils dilated. He smiled against her breast and bit the soft flesh, mostly to hear her breath speed up. He wasn’t disappointed.
    Another finger added to the first, and her head dropped back. God, she was something.
    “Please. Tim, please.” Her voice was harsh, like gravel stuck in her throat.
    “What do you want?” Would she ask? Was she too embarrassed to ask for an orgasm?
    “You.” With what looked like great effort, she lifted her head to look directly in his eyes. Her hair was a riot of curls, her eyes were heavy, her mouth swollen. “I want you inside me.”
    He was beyond denying her—or himself—at that point. He nudged her so that she swung one leg back off. With shaking fingers, he undid the buttons to his jeans and slid them down to his knees, taking his boxers with him. His erection thumped his stomach, and he wondered when the last time he’d been so hard so fast was. With an affectionate slap on the thigh, he pulled her over his lap again. She shrieked and laughed, her core heat cradling his cock.
    But when he lifted her up to take him in, she resisted. Looking up, he was surprised to see embarrassment on her face that, seconds ago, had held blind lust.
    “What?”
    She stared at his lap, then back at him. She chewed on her bottom lip for a moment, then asked,