He leans down, eyes fluttering closed, and kisses the corner of my mouth before slowly sweeping his lips across my jaw. So warm, wet, and soft. I sink back into the pillow, his lips like the sweetest drug. He presses against me and I can feel his hard, stiff length through his jeans, and I instinctively press my hips up to meet his, craving him inside me. I’m wet within seconds and desperate for him to get closer.
“Why are you not always naked?” I practically whimper, sliding my hands underneath his white t-shirt and down the hard, smooth planes of his muscular back. I could touch that back of his for hours.
“Because I’m a stupid, stupid man,” he whispers, sucking my neck into his mouth. The moan it elicits is loud but being noisy is something I refuse to be embarrassed about. Besides, he likes it. What man doesn’t want to hear just what kind of pleasure they’re giving to a woman?
“A stupid man with a great big dick,” I tease him, reaching under and palming his erection.
“Perfect for the girl with the tight little cunt.” His voice gets all low and growly over the last word and he licks down to my collarbone, bathing me in sparks.
Damn. The dirty mouth comes out to play.
I fumble for his jeans, undoing them as quickly as I can, while he pulls his shirt over his head. God, the sight of him above me, every hard-earned, rippled muscle, every beautiful, telling tattoo—it just never gets old.
He reaches back to yank off his jeans when Lionel springs forward, grabbing the hem with his teeth and pulling playfully.
“Glad you’re trying to help, mate,” Lachlan says to Lionel, laughing as the pit bull tugs them off. Lachlan shoots me an apologetic look before getting off the bed. “Don’t worry, he’s on his way out.”
I know it’s super silly, but I just can’t fuck when there are dogs in the room. Lachlan assures me they don’t know the difference, but I know they know. It’s weird. I can be an exhibitionist in some ways but not in that one.
Lachlan pulls off the rest of his jeans and strides across the room, shooing Lionel out. He’s commando as he often is and I have the world’s best view of the world’s best ass. All those years of rugby and now boxing have firmed that behind into a sculpted peach that I just want to sink my teeth and nails into. That, plus those broad shoulders and the sinewy muscles of his back, the dimples at his waist, his thick, impossibly strong quads—he’s man overload. Sometimes I wish I was a guy just so I could fuck him from behind because what a hell of a view that would be.
He closes the door on Lionel then turns around, another perfect sight. He’s holding his gorgeous dick in his hand and my eyes are torn between indulging in the beautiful, wanting part of his lips and his thick cock on display.
“You ready for me?” he asks, and the look on his face is practically smoldering.
Why does he even ask?
I smile, ever the coquette, then pull my camisole over my head. Last night we’d had sex before we fell asleep and I hadn’t even bothered to put underwear back on, which was coming in handy right now.
Lachlan walks over and stops right beside the bed, his eyes burning down at me.
“Want to play this morning?” he asks gruffly, though his lips are quirking up into a wicked smile.
“Play?” I ask, mildly confused. “Or fuck?”
He reaches down and pulls open the bedside table drawer. “Both.” He takes out the silky sleep mask that I got from the airplane ride over here. “Put this on.”
I take it from him. Hmmm. Okay. So this is playing.
I slip it over my head, pulling it down over my eyes until the world goes almost black, only a faint glow of grey coming through from underneath the edge.