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“You have no idea what you’ve just done.”
Buttons pinged against the walls around her, landing like soft projectiles on the carpet. Molly’s flannel shirt was ripped away and soon joined its fallen comrades. Her mouth barely had time to fall open before Brass captured her lips again, stealing her shocked cries and mingling them with moans of his own.
There were no words for the heat singeing her skin. Brass unleashed was a force only ever written about in odysseys and epics. Entire cities could have been laid to waste from the potency he wielded, and those left behind would have thanked him for the opportunity of a fresh start.
He was fire, ice, rage, and sin all balled together in a mortal man who refused to let the span of a breath go by without some part of him caressing some part of her.
“Tell me what to do.” He said this as his hands crept higher up her abdomen, pausing every inch or so to sweetly brush his knuckles over some of her softer, more rounded places, as if lingering over something lovely.
“Higher,” she commanded, half out of her mind with the thrill of his touch and her sex-fueled power trip.
Brass responded with the efficiency of a soldier, coasting over the delicate bumps of her ribs until her breasts became wanton prisoners of his expert hands. She hissed and arched into his grip. Before she could say the words, he’d peeled down the thin cotton cups of her bra separating her aching nipples from the firm touch they craved.
“May I?” Golden eyes peered up at her from a head dipped lower than she recalled it being a moment ago. When the hell had he moved? Not caring to contemplate anything too closely at the moment lest she scare away the most erotic experience of her life, she simply nodded.
His stubble abraded a delicious track along the underside of her breasts, carving out a path that every fiery sense tried and failed to follow. Her brain was awash of sensations both foreign and completely unimaginable. It had never been like this with anyone else, where she came alive from little more than the caress of a fingertip or the simple press of lips.
Nothing was simple with Brass, and the prospect both thrilled and frightened her.
Molly’s head fell back at the same time her jaw nearly hit the floor. Brass’s tongue slid over and around her right nipple while his left hand toyed and pinched the other. When the sharp sting of teeth was added to the mix, she could hardly get her legs on board with the whole support thing. She buckled and dipped slightly, before her hand flew to the wall behind her.
She really needn’t have bothered. Brass’s arms were under her thighs before she even had a chance to rally the troops. And most miraculously of all, that mouth of his never left her breasts. In fact, the sudden change of position only seemed to spur him on more, giving him a better angle, offering up more of her flesh to a man who devoured her like she was the lone slice of triple chocolate cheesecake in a sea of imitation vanilla pudding.
“Brass, I need something,” she panted, not caring how desperate her Boss Lady voice sounded.
“Tell me, Molly.”
“I need . . . more.”
“More what?”
The bastard was teasing her. In between the most erotic nipple action of her life, the man causing it wanted to play word games.
“You know what,” she gritted out.
He lavished attention on her other breast, this time drawing out his torture with one long slow lick. “Do you want me to choose?”
“Yes. Yes, that one. Option A. Just do it.”
“Only because you said so.”
It all came together faster than a mother sauce in a blender. One moment, Molly had been mostly naked from the waist up with her back against the wall; the next, her pants and underwear had been stripped away and her thighs of questionable strength had been hoisted on Brass’s impossibly wide shoulders.
“Oh my God!” The cry that left her from her near-upended equilibrium was premature but still very much appropriate as Brass’s mouth kissed a pathway toward that growing ache. A soft peck on the inside of her thigh was all the warning she got before his tongue swiped a long, slow lick up the very center of her. A pulsing tension bordering on pain trembled under the onslaught of his clever ministrations. His tongue—that infuriating tongue—swirled a seductive track just above and to the left of the one place holding every bit of her together. Like a man savoring the final licks of his dessert, he lavished his attention on everything but the one final taste that would end it all for both of them.
The experience rocked, not only her core but every muscle her body had previously laid claim to, before Brass had stolen command and coaxed ripples of exquisite pleasure from parts long dormant.
It was a stark breach of contract, and she was totally okay with it.
Molly flung her arms wide, searching for anything strong enough to suffer under her nails as she suffered under his skillful mouth. What she found were Brass’s shoulders, tight and torqued with tension as he supported every ounce of her above while increasing his onslaught below.
He deepened his ruthless explorations until, finally, even he’d had enough teasing and captured her clit in one swift strike.
Waves crashed over her with penetrating pulses. Every muscle quivered in soul-shattering tandem, from her stomach to her thighs to intimate spaces that exploded free from locked cages only a master could pick.
Brass was that master. Holy shit, was he that master.
Molly relinquished her hold on his shoulders and silenced her screams as best she could, trapping her mouth beneath trembling fingers. She cried and cursed and begged for mercy from foreign gods she’d never known. Surely, there must have been something out there worth blaspheming over. Orgasmic death by Brass’s mouth seemed as good a reason as any to test the theory.
