Page 50 of Wardrobe Malfunction

But what if Vaughn likes his women completely bare down there?

“I haven’t seen this in a long time.”

My vagina? When has he seen it previously?

He runs his finger over the little bit of hair on my folds.

Oh.

“You don’t like?” I ask, feeling a little self-conscious.

That vanishes when his eyes meet mine. The desire in them is evident, and it makes my belly clench tight.

“Oh, I like it all right. I like it a lot. It’s good to see a real woman for once.”

I have no idea what that means, but he likes it. I lose all train of thought when he goes down, parting me with his fingers and running his tongue up my pussy to my clit.

“Ohmigod!” My legs try to come up, but he holds my thighs down with his hands, and then his tongue goes to town on me.

He’s licking my clit, fucking me with his tongue, and it’s amazing. Otherworldly. Like nothing I’ve ever felt before.

My hands are curled into the bedsheet, my toes digging into the mattress.

It’s been so long since I came at the hands—well, in this case, at the mouth of a man. And this is Vaughn West in between my legs. The chances of me not coming in less than thirty seconds will be a fucking miracle.

“Oh, Jesus…Vaughn…that’s so good. God, don’t stop. I’m so close…so close…fuuck!”

And I come like a rocket shooting off into space. And then I come some more, his tongue relentlessly licking me, wringing me dry, until I sag into the bed, spent.

He promised oblivion. Oblivion, he gave.

I’m dying. And I’m dying a happy girl.

Vaughn kisses his way up my body, his hand pushing up my tank. I feel his mouth come down and suck around my nipple.

“Mmm,” I moan, sliding my fingers into his hair, opening my eyes.

Okay, so apparently, I’m easily brought back to life.

He gets to his knees, straddling my stomach, and pulls my tank up. I lift myself to allow it over my head.

I lie back down and get a good view of his erection straining against his jeans. I reach out and press my hand to it. Curling my fingers around, I squeeze gently.

Vaughn moans, his eyes closing.

“You’re still fully dressed,” I say, moving my hand up and down.

His eyes flash open. His sweater is off a second later.

My hands go to his button and zipper, pulling it down. I tug on the waistband.

Vaughn gets to his feet, which are nicely bare.

Is it odd that I like the fact that he doesn’t wear socks with his sneakers?

Standing between my legs, he puts his hands in his jeans pockets, takes his phone and wallet out, and tosses them on the nightstand.

He takes his jeans off.