Page 17 of Dirty Pool

So much.

Michel didn’t move until all he could see of Gabbie as she walked up the stairs was her legs from the calves down. She stopped for a second, and he wondered what in the hell she was doing. Then, he watched her legs shimmy a bit before those lace-trimmed, cotton panties dropped down around her ankles. Stepping out of the fabric, her walk continued.

His pants became tighter.

Yeah, fuck.

Michel went after her, and he wasn’t quiet about it because he could hear Gabbie’s sexy laughter echoing from the upstairs as he climbed the stairs as fast as he possibly could. He made sure to pick up those panties she left behind, too.

All the while, he shredded his dress shirt, and unbuttoned his slacks before pulling the zipper apart, too. He kicked his shoes off outside of a bathroom—the same spot she had apparently dropped her bra to the floor.

The next room was a spare bedroom.

The one at the end?

That’s where he found Gabbie.

Naked on the end of the bed, red hair spilling over her shoulder, she sat there with her head cocked to the side like she was waiting for him. A sinful smile curved her lips as she tipped her chin up—a silent challenge, he thought.

Her words confirmed it. “Still want to find out if you made me wet?”

A harsh sound ripped from Michel’s throat—he wasn’t even sure where it came from, but it felt raw coming out. “You have no fucking idea.”

She widened her legs for him, her heels resting to the edge of the bed. No shame, he thought, and he loved that. He didn’t have time to chase a woman’s insecurities, but especially not when it came to her body. All women were beautiful, and all women were different. He got off on a woman who knew that about herself, and wasn’t afraid to show off everything she had.

And right now, Gabbie was flashing him a pink pussy that glistened under the dim lighting in the bedroom provided by the lamps on either side of the bed. She wasn’t entirely bare—a small patch of trimmed hair above her pussy led down to the promise land. His mouth watered because what did she taste like?

Tart, and hot?

Sweet, and heady?

He wanted to find out.

Michel stalked closer.

Not yet close enough, though.

“I want a taste,” he said, “but I can’t promise how long that’s going to last before I bend you over and take what I really want.”

Gabbie eyed the panties hanging from his fingertips. “And what did you bring those for?”

“Maybe I’ll stuff them in your mouth to make you taste yourself while I’m fucking you. Or hell, maybe I’ll wrap them around your hands to keep them still. All that matters right now is that you say yes.”

Again, she didn’t hesitate.

“Yes.”

Michel moved forward until he was standing at the end of the bed just in front of her. Gabbie’s gaze drifted over his naked chest, and down his torso until her stare lingered at the black waistband of his boxer-briefs peeking out over the edge of his opened slacks. She liked what she was looking at, and he felt that in his bones. That grin of hers deepened, and Michel chuckled.

“Stroke my ego more, please.”

Her stare snapped back up to his. “I thought you looked good with your shirt on, but …”

Michel leaned forward, then, his hands landing to the bed before his mouth found hers. There was a hunger in their kiss—a need he’d not felt in a long time. He found her kiss was as addicting as anything that felt good for you, but was probably also bad. Her fingernails dragged down his chest as his tongue slashed against hers before he nipped the bottom of her lip. It was her sweet gasp that sent him spinning, and moving faster.

Once he got her back to the bed, his hands were already at her thighs, widening them more. He gave her no warning before he was right where he wanted to be, and so was his mouth. His lips encased her clit, first, teasing and coaxing the throbbing bud with gentle flicks of his tongue before he’d suck on it again. Her trembling increased when one of his hands slid down, and he pushed a thumb deep into her sex to massage the wet, swollen flesh as he worked her clit with his mouth.

Once he found the spot that really had her arching on the bed, and made her fingers twist into his hair as her hips grinded against him, he kept that up. A steady, firm beat with his thumb, and the same pressure with his tongue until she was gasping.