A Date with the Other Side (Cuttersville #1)(36)
Author: Erin McCarthy

There was no mistaking the arrogant satisfaction in his voice. “Give you a gold star.”

“Is that sarcasm?” He gave her a mock frown. “You could be a little more appreciative.”

Stretching her arms over her head, Shelby rolled her neck and gave a soft sigh of sated approval. “Oh, I am, trust me.”

Then he got a little gleam in his eye that worried her. He started nudging her back into the straw. “Let’s see how much you appreciate me when I make you come again.”

Shelby resisted falling back. “Now you’re just being ridiculous, Boston. There is no way I can do that again right now. It’ll be at least a week before you should even bother trying again. Give me time to get . . . you know, worked up,” she whispered.

Flustered and blushing and abandoning hope for reaching her clothes tossed who knew where, Shelby let him pin her back and figured she’d warned him. If he wanted to waste his time it was all the same to her.

She waited. Exasperated and embarrassed and a little bit excited.

“Now is the best time actually.” Boston kissed her chin, her neck, the swell of her breast. “See, you’re still wet, you’re still swollen, your body still wants more.”

Shelby seemed to be going shy on him, but Boston wasn’t interested in allowing that. Watching her come apart in his arms, rocking against his touch, digging into his skin with short nails, had been triumphant and sexy and primal. He’d never taken that much pleasure just from watching, and even though he was more than ready to sink inside all that giving warmth, he wanted to taste her first, drag her under until she was so hot and so ready for him she begged.

Not a passionate person, his ass.

Boston enjoyed the feel of her soft and pliant beneath him, her limp arms draped across the straw, her slumberous satisfaction giving way to impatience. Shelby thought she was done with playing and probably really wanted to continue on with the tour, but for whatever reason wasn’t shoving him away. Either curiosity or politeness kept her there, waiting to see what he would do.

What he was going to do was make her come again. And then maybe again. Not to prove the point to her that he could, but to prove that she could.

Boston suckled her nipple, slowly, leisurely, rolling his tongue over the plump nub before pulling back and blowing on it. Shelby shifted beneath him, her sigh a sign of the first stirrings of renewed desire. He moved to her other breast, tasted the underside, nipped along the side, pulled her nipple firmly into his mouth, and sucked hard.

Her breathing changed minutely, the steady rise and fall shifting into a rhythmic pant, and her relaxed shoulders tensed slightly.

He’d felt her before, when his fingers had been buried inside her, felt her struggle, the way she thought and strained and clawed toward an orgasm, and Boston wanted Shelby to forget to think. To forget to worry, to forget about pleasing and performance and to have nothing in her but the rolling need and want of her body. To let her body take her where it wanted to go.

Kissing down her firm abdomen, Boston ducked his tongue into her belly button. She jerked, then settled still again. He’d never considered himself a selfish lover, but loving Shelby showed him he’d never been selfless either. And he wasn’t now. He was taking just as much as he was giving, feeling her smooth body beneath him, and he hadn’t even removed his jeans—with good reason.

If he took off his pants and shed his boxers, it would be damn near impossible to prevent himself from pressing her back into the itchy straw with a quick thrust of his cock.

Which he couldn’t do because he wanted Shelby to have a chance to ache for him, to walk away satisfied yet unfulfilled.

And he didn’t have any condoms anyway.

So the pants were staying on as a security measure.

Boston brushed his lips across her dewy curls, darker than her head of golden-brown hair. “What have we here?”

He roamed over her thighs, light teasing strokes that had her wiggling.

“Boston . . .”

The way she said his name, so exasperated, so aroused, so different from the women he’d dated before, made him smile over her mound, giving a little laugh that sent hot breath dancing over her. The country in her voice was more pronounced, drawing out his name to twice its normal length, and while there was much to find annoying about Cuttersville, that wasn’t.

Thumbs on her folds, he kissed her clitoris. “Yes, dear? Did you want to say something?”

Shelby gave a snort of derision. “Yes! You’re driving me nuts, and you’re crazy if you think I’m going to have another orgasm.”

He looked up over her stomach, rising ribs and full, plump br**sts. “It’s not all about the O, you know. There’s just as much to be said for the trip there as the final destination.”

Drawing his thumbs back, he opened her sex for his viewing. Shelby sucked in her breath when he blew lightly on her. “Shelby, it’s not a failure if you don’t, as long as you have fun along the way.”

Though she was going to pull all the way into the station with a roar if he had anything to say about it. But he wanted them both to enjoy every step of the process.

Just the tip of his tongue connected with her glistening flesh and he closed his eyes. Damn, she tasted good. Like sex and want and sweet, honest woman. He forced himself to pull back and stared at her again, drinking his fill of the sight of her spread out for him, little gleams of moisture sliding down the longer he watched.

His attention was getting a positive reaction.

But she whacked his shoulder. “What are you looking at? Geez Louise, you’d think you’d never seen a naked woman before.”

The ruddy flush in her cheeks showed she was embarrassed more than disgusted by his behavior.

“I’ve never seen you naked before. It’s the best damn view in Cuttersville.” He kissed her clitoris a second time, pausing to suckle it gently.

Shelby bucked on the straw. “Oh, shit! What is that?”

He had a winner. Boston sucked harder, darting his tongue down once to swipe over her.

Shelby panted. She swore. She begged him to stop.

So he did.

As he sat back a couple of inches, rubbing her dampness off his bottom lip, she cried out in anguish.

“You’re stopping?” she asked in condemnation, as if he’d suggested stealing candy from kids.

“You told me to,” he pointed out, hiding his grin in her thigh.

“I didn’t mean it.” Shelby flopped back on the straw, long yellow strands of the stuff sticking to her hair, her br**sts bouncing. Her legs tried to squeeze together as she moved restlessly, but he was in the way.