Branded as Trouble (Rough Riders 6) - Page 48

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Slowly. Round and round. A measured lick here and there. His tongue started at the bottom swell of her breast, flattened around the sides, tapered to a fine point over her breastbone. As the circle grew smaller and smaller, he went slower and slower. He zeroed in on the rigid aching nipple, letting his tongue toy with the hoop, while his right thumb lightly feathered the skin above the waistband of her jeans, causing her belly to tremble.

When he’d lapped up every drop, he sank his teeth into her sticky flesh, toeing that fine line between pleasure and pain, knowing just how much pressure she could stand.

White-hot desire lanced through her.

She’d been rocking the seam of her jeans, which was directly in line with her clit, against the hardest part of him. The instant his teeth and tongue and hands and mouth came together, the throbbing between her legs synchronized and ignited an orgasm that left her gasping.

Once the ringing in her ears stopped, India realized the growling noise vibrating against her throat sounded suspiciously like a satisfied male chuckle.

Hey. How’d she get off…track? She’d meant to tease him.

Make him lose control. So why did she have whipped cream smeared all over her chest and her sex was spasming?

Just lucky.

Time to spread the luck around.

Colt scattered sticky kisses back to her lips and devoured her mouth. He tasted sweet and spicy and darkly male.

She used her teeth on his jawbone. Kissed his dimples. Blew in his ear until he shivered. “Take off your sweats.”

He went utterly still. “What?”

Her tongue darted out and flicked his earlobe and he moaned.

“I’m going to squirt whipped cream all over your cock, Colt. I’m going to lick and suck it off. Then I’m going to suck you off. You’re going to come in my mouth and I’m going to swallow every creamy spurt.”

“Jesus.”

“Any more questions?”

“Hell no.”

India grabbed the can, climbed off the chair and shut off the TV.

In record time, Colt’s sweats and boxers sailed to the floor.

The little vixen trailed the fringed end of the dishtowel over his thighs and stomach. His flesh rolled beneath her touch and he recognized the power she had on him, body and soul.

It was surprisingly sexy to give up control.

“Last thing. Keep your hands on the armrest until I say otherwise. If I feel those mitts in my hair or on my face, I’ll stop and tie them together with this towel. Understand?” She snapped it once by his head for good measure.

Colt nodded. Damn. Was this domination stuff as much of a turn-on for her when he did it?

“Good.” India dropped to her knees and scooted between his legs. She rubbed those soft br**sts and pebbled ni**les over the coarse hair on the inside of his thighs. “That feels good. Do you like that?”

“Hell yes.”

He went rigid as she studied him, as if deciding where to start.

The tip of his c**k jerked. The thick vein running up the center pulsed; pearly liquid seeped out the purple head.

With an evil grin she put the nozzle at the base of his shaft and squirted a wide line straight up.

“Holy shit! That’s cold!”

“Not for long.” She bent her head and zigzagged her tongue up the length of his erection.

It took every ounce of control not to grab her head and force her mouth where he wanted it. Not to touch her while she was tormenting him.

She swirled more sweet stuff around the head of his cock. Then she sat back and admired her handiwork. “Mmm. Looks like a big mushroom, don’t you think? And isn’t it lucky I love mushrooms?”

She daintily closed her lips over the rim where the cap met the shaft and sucked.

Colt’s hips shot up, a reflex for her to take him all the way in her mouth.

“Huh-uh. Not yet. I’ve still got half a can of creamy goodness to mess with. You were the one who wanted to mess around, weren’t you, Colt?”

He groaned.

She tortured him. Fleeting licks from his balls to the twitching tip. Then she’d suck him hard until the head hit the back of her throat. Bringing him to the edge again and again. Leaving him hanging there by a thread and then starting over. Hot mouth. Cool spray of whipped cream. The wet lap of her tongue.

His thighs clenched. His knuckles were white on the black armrest. He gritted his teeth. Sweat dripped from his temple. He didn’t touch her. But he knew his eyes were absolutely wild and probably begging. Finally, he panted, “Enough.”

India smiled. “You’ve been a very good boy. You can touch me now.” She curled her hand around the root and began to pump as her wet mouth moved up and down. Clasping her lips tightly as she released him from her mouth, opening her throat as his c**k slid back in into that warm cavern. Creating a rhythm that made him pant and squirm.

Colt’s hands cupped her face; his thumbs traced the center of her hollowed cheeks. Then his hips thrust higher.

“Faster. Like that. Oh God, India. Don’t stop. Oh Jesus. Oh f**k.” He gripped her head as he erupted against the roof of her mouth. She sucked and he felt her jaw working as she swallowed and swallowed until he was fully spent.

After his c**k quit throbbing and he could think again, he sank back into the recliner.

She stood.

Colt pulled her onto his lap. He aligned her back against the front of his body, hugging her tightly. “Would it be lame if I said thank you?”

“No.”

“Thank you. That was…” He sighed. “Words fail me. I didn’t invite you over, expecting that, India.”

“I know. That’s why I had such a fantastic time blowing your expectations all to hell.”

“Blowing me to heaven and back is more like it.”

She released the catch on the recliner. When they were horizontal, she snuggled into him and whispered, “Aren’t these cooking lessons going great? I think I’m a natural.”

Chapter Eighteen

Lovers Week Four

It was another crappy, boring day.

Damn rain meant India couldn’t ride her bike. No tattoo customers had braved the lousy weather. No Sky Blue customers either. She’d been stuck inside for four lousy days. She was sick of her own company.

You’re sick of staying away from Colt.

True.

India kicked the door shut and bobbled the box of lavender soap when she saw him leaning against the doorjamb, looking pretty as you please. Dark hair tousled and damp from the wind and the rain. Stubble coating his jaw. Trouble in his eye.

Crap. She could never resist him when he looked all gorgeous and scowly.


Tags: Lorelei James Rough Riders Billionaire Romance
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