Slow Dance at Rose Bend by Naima Simone (books under 200 pages .TXT) 📕

beneath his relentless and wicked mouth. Fingers cradling his head, she pressed him to her, demanding he give her everything.

He fed on her as if she were every alcoholic drink he’d ever downed, and his single goal was to get drunk on her. Switching breasts, he played with the damp peak, twisting and pinching while his lips and tongue licked, nibbled and sucked.

“God, you’re more gorgeous than I imagined. And believe me, baby,” he whispered, trailing kisses down the center of her torso, “I did a lot of imagining.”

His praise glowed within her like the golden rays that attempted to break through the thick awning of leaves. She accepted her body, even loved her body, in spite of her ex’s attempts to shame her. But God, to hear Maddox express how beautiful he found her...how desirable. Even the most confident woman needed to hear that. Especially from the person she gave her vulnerability and body to.

“I want to see all of you.” He sat back on his heels, his gaze meeting hers—burning into hers—as his fingers worked the button and zipper of her jeans. When she didn’t move to stop him, he quickly divested her of the denim, panties and boots. Belated modesty decided to rear its inconvenient head, and she crossed her arm over her not-flat stomach and angled one leg over the other, concealing herself.

“All of you. Don’t try to hide from me,” he reiterated. “You’re a fantasy. My fantasy, and it seems like I’ve waited forever to have you. Not going to let you deprive me of it. Of you.”

She blinked, his words—the admiration in them, the possessiveness in them—sending her mentally reeling. His fantasy? Had she ever been anyone’s—

“Oh God.” The words exploded from her as his mouth opened over her sex. She hadn’t even realized he’d parted her legs, much less... “Maddox,” she groaned, ecstasy bursting inside her like a geyser.

Without her permission, her legs fell open on either side of his wide shoulders, granting him even more room, easier access. She peered down her body, and the sight of his eyes closed, cheekbones flushed red, thick auburn hair spread over her thighs, his lips wet with...

“Holy hell.” Her hips bucked, writhed, seeking more of that devasting and dirty pleasure.

Tunneling her fingers through his cool, dark red strands, she held him close, unconcerned with anything but chasing the beautiful, stunning orgasm that threatened to crack her in half.

“I could drown in you.” He thrust a finger inside her—no, two—filling her. Oh, Jesus. She wasn’t going to survive his voice, his mouth and his hand. “I could drown in you and never want to come up for air.”

He latched onto her again, his talented and devilish tongue swiping over the bundle of nerves at the top of her sex, torturing her with flicks and firm but indulgent licks. Tremors rippled through her, leaving her shaking, and nearly incoherent cries spilled from her.

“Please don’t stop. Please don’t stop,” she chanted, riding his mouth and fingers. “I need...”

His fingers curled inside her, massaging a place high up as his lips pursed around the button that was the epicenter of her pleasure. He drew hard on her and rubbed harder.

And she was done.

Gone.

He hurled her over the edge, and with a scream that abraded her throat, she went.

By the time she returned to herself, trembling and raw, Maddox had his jeans shoved down around his thighs, his dick in his hand and a condom packet caught between his teeth. Ripping the foil open, he removed the protection and sheathed himself in economical movements that should’ve been far from sexy. But everything this man did screamed sex. And though she’d just enjoyed an epic orgasm, her body hummed; her sex softened, quivered.

Maddox was going to be inside her.

That alone—and those thick, tree-trunk, hair-dusted thighs cradling that beautiful cock—was enough to have her aching and empty.

She stretched her arms toward him, and he captured one of her hands, pressing a kiss to the palm. Using his grasp as leverage, he gently pulled her to a sitting position. Frowning, she stared up at him, but when his hand lowered to her hip and squeezed, his intention dawned as clear as a bright summer day.

Unease flooded her, momentarily batting back the clawing need. She’d never had sex in this position with her ex, because he hadn’t liked the view. No, he’d never vocalized the words, but she knew. What if Maddox...? She shook her head, lowering back to the blanket. No, she couldn’t...

His hand shot out, cradling the nape of her neck. He shifted, crouching over her. “I don’t know what just went through your head, but when I said I wanted to see all of you, I meant all. There’s no part of you that I don’t find fucking gorgeous and sexy. No. Part.” He planted a hot, openmouthed kiss to the sensitive skin under her ear. “Turn over and get on your hands and knees for me. I’ve dreamed about this ass,” he murmured, squeezing her hip and the upper part of her behind. “Now be the brave woman you are and give it to me.”

Lust razed her to the ground, and part of her wondered how she wasn’t a pile of ashes. She blinked up at him, and in that moment, she would’ve offered him anything.

She’d already given him more than was wise.

Slowly, she turned, moving until she did as he asked, pressing her hands and knees to the blanket. Fire tinged her face. She felt too vulnerable, too exposed. She couldn’t do this. Couldn’t...

His hands stroked up her back, curling over her shoulders, then retracing the path, not stopping until he cupped her behind.

“Better than any dream,” he said, squeezing her flesh.

He bent over her, trailing his lips down her spine, lingering at the base to tongue the slight dip. His hands cradled her hips, his touch somehow...worshipful. His caress reverent. And like that, her doubts, her insecurities evaporated, and she believed him. Believed he’d dreamed about her. Wouldn’t