Stealing Rose (The Fowler Sisters 2) - Page 28

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“What would you call it, then?” she asks. I’m tracing her perfectly shaped mouth, my finger getting caught between her lips, and I can feel the damp heat of her tongue.


“Hot pursuit.” I slide my finger deeper into her mouth and she accepts it, circling it with her tongue. “Show me what you can do.” My voice drops about ten octaves with my request.

She furrows her eyebrows and pulls my finger out of her mouth. “Show you what I can do with what?”

“Pretend it’s my cock in your mouth,” I whisper. “Show me what you would do.”

Her eyes darken, honey gold and electrifying as she grabs hold of my wrist and draws my entire finger into her mouth, right to the base. She holds it there, her gaze never leaving mine, her tongue sliding over my skin, her entire mouth sucking and then she’s withdrawing, dragging her tongue along the side of my finger before she gets to the tip and sucks just that part back into her mouth.

“Jesus,” I mutter, my skin tight and hot, my cock straining. She smiles and I trace that pretty smile with my damp finger, her hand dropping away from my wrist at the exact time the elevator comes to a stop and the doors slide open.

“Come on,” she says, and I grab the bag from the floor before I follow after her, my blood pumping, my head spinning. Everything inside of me is a jangling, out-of-control mess, clamoring to get at her and strip her clothes off, feast on her naked flesh, sink deep inside her hot, wet body and lose myself. Forget about the world.

At least for a little while before I get back to business and grab that damn necklace.

Rose tries to open the door with shaky fingers, shoving the key card in again and again, but the light flashes yellow every time, making her curse. I gently push her out of the way and pull the key out of the slot, then shove it back in slowly.

The light turns green.

“Slow and easy, baby.” Flashing her a triumphant smile, I open the door and take her hand, pulling her inside. The bag goes flying onto a nearby table, the key card dropped onto the floor as I grab hold of Rose by her slender waist and pull her in to me, our chests meeting, legs tangling. We eye each other, breaths mingling, hearts thumping in time. Adrenaline pours through me as I cup her face with one hand and take her lips with mine.

I consume her and she consumes me right back, our mouths wide, our tongues dancing. She slides her leg up, close to my hip, and it’s like she’s trying to climb me. I break the kiss first and she nips at my chin, the sting of her sharp teeth making me wince.

“Careful,” I murmur.

She smiles, nuzzling my cheek with hers. “I want you.”

“Then get on your knees,” I command, dying to see how fast she’ll agree, but preparing for a fight.

Surprisingly enough, she doesn’t fight. She falls to her knees without hesitation. Her hands go to the waistband of my jeans to undo the snap before she tugs down the zipper, spreading the fly open to reveal my black boxer briefs. My cock strains against the thin cotton and she smiles, drawing her index finger along the length of my dick, making it twitch.

“I owe you, don’t I?” she asks as she tilts her head back, the sultry expression on her pretty face just about doing me in.

What is it about this woman? I should be casing her room for jewelry. Normally I would be. That damn Poppy Necklace is here. I can feel it. At the very least, I should be searching for it. Fuck her hard, wait till she falls asleep, and then go on the hunt.

But that’s the last thing I want to do. Oh, I definitely plan on fucking her hard. Again and again, until the both of us fall asleep. I feel anything but normal in the presence of Rose Fowler.

And that should scare the ever-loving fuck out of me.

She’s also talking about owing me and she’s the last person to be in debt to me. No one is in debt to me. More like I’m in debt to everyone else.

“You owe me for what?” I hold my breath as her fingers curl around the band of my underwear, her fingertips brushing against my stomach, making the muscles there flinch.

Her lips curve. “For last night.”

Not that I’m keeping count of orgasms or anything, but hey. I’m not about to refuse a blow job. “Take your clothes off first.”

She releases her hold on my underwear and I feel the loss of her touch like a physical blow. “You want me naked?”

Always. Like she has to ask? I’d keep her locked up and naked in this hotel room for days if she’d let me. “Definitely.”

Standing, she tugs her shirt off, then undoes the clasp on her bra before she whips that off too. One shove and her jeans and panties are sliding down her legs, until finally she’s standing before me with that perfect little body, completely bare.

“Your turn,” she says, her voice raspy as she carefully settles back onto her knees, resuming the position like a good little girl. Her eyes are trained on me as I pull off my shirt, then shove my underwear and jeans down my legs until I’m kicking them off along with my shoes. Until I’m just as naked as she is, on display and … feeling oddly vulnerable.

She stares at my cock, her eyes wide, her lips parted. Reaching out, she draws her index finger down the length, along my balls, making me shiver. I’m hard as a rock, my cock arcing toward my stomach and already leaking pre-come. I’m dying to feel her mouth on me, her hands …

And then she’s there, her mouth on my skin. Soft and warm and damp, her lips blazing a trail from my hip to my stomach, her fingers going around the base of my erection, gripping me firmly. My breath stalls in my throat as I watch her, her long hair falling around her face, tickling my cock, hiding all the good action from view.

Tags: Monica Murphy The Fowler Sisters Romance