Joy Ride by Desiree Holt (reading a book TXT) 📕

Almost lazily, he drew each nipple into his mouth, silky fabric and all, and sucked on them until they were rigid and taut.

Emma trembled and leaned her head back, closing her eyes, giving herself over to sensation. Marc’s lips were hot and soft at the same time, cruising over her skin with delicate care, igniting her every place they touched. When he reached behind her to release the catch on her bra and slip it off, she almost breathed a sigh of relief. She then cupped her breasts with her palms and held them out to him. An offering. A bold move for her but with Marc, bold was becoming almost a motto.

Fire sparked in his eyes. “Oh, yeah. Hold them just like that so I can look at them and kiss them and lick them. Tonight, Music Lady, I’m going to take it slow if it kills me. And it just might.”

Chapter Eleven

He worshipped her breasts. That was the only word Emma could use to describe what Marc was doing. Standing there, the two of them, him still fully clothed, her naked from the waist up, he concentrated on those mounds as if his life depended on it. He sucked her taut buds, nipped them, soothed them and drew circles around them with the tip of his tongue. Grazed his teeth over the flesh around them. Licked some more. She trembled with the effort to hold the firm mounds out to him, and her legs were so weak she wasn’t sure how long she could continue to stand upright.

At last he raised his head, moved her hands to his shoulders, and kissed her like a starving man, tasting everywhere inside her mouth. She couldn’t stop the flame scorching her with its intensity. She felt it clear down to her core, clear in the wet heat of her body. Her own small tongue slid over his, stroking it, coaxing him deeper inside that hot, delicious cavern.

When he lifted his lips from hers, they were both shaking. He touched her shoulders, her arms, her breasts. His eyes were like hot coals searing her every place he looked. In slow motion, he unsnapped her jeans and lowered the zipper, the rasp of the teeth unnaturally loud in the room. His hands slid inside the jeans and cupped her ass, his breath hissing between her teeth when he touched bare flesh.

“No panties, babe?” His voice had a strangled sound to it.

“Take off the jeans and you’ll find out.” Her new temptress attitude was definitely more Music Lady than Emma. Or maybe the two were merging.

Emma clung to his arms as she toed off her brand new sandals and kicked them to the side. She stood shaking with anticipation while Marc deliberately slid the white denim down her legs. She leaned on him while he knelt and lifted each foot, one at a time, from the jeans before tossing the garment onto the pile with her tank and bra.

“Lordy, lordy.” He sighed when he took in the miniscule white thong, made of all lace.

She was well aware her dark golden curls were visible in the tiny openings of the material. She wet her lips, trying to calm the sudden surge of nervousness. The old Emma still hovered in the background. For now. Marc’s fingers tightened on her hips as he took his time licking the triangle of lace, lapping it and tugging on the soft curls with his teeth. His tongue pushed the lace into her slit and traced the length of her from top to bottom and back again.

The walls of her pussy quivered, and the thong became soaked with her juices. When he took the fabric between his teeth and tugged it down, she had to dig her fingers into his shoulders to keep from sinking to the floor. By the time he rose to his feet, they were both trembling with need.

His eyes never left hers as he shucked his clothes, dropping them on top of hers. She stared at his cock as it sprang free, thick and swollen, rising like a spear from his groin. She wanted to swallow but her throat was suddenly dry, and she remembered the taste of him the last time she took him in her mouth.

As if she’d been doing it forever, she dropped to her knees and cradled Marc’s shaft in her palms. For a woman of her age, she was sexually unsophisticated as far as oral sex was concerned. None of her partners, including Andrew, had been much interested in it. But Marc had used his mouth on her and brought her untold pleasure. He’d liked it when she did it the other night so maybe she could do it again now.

With only a hint of shyness she licked the broad head, capturing the bead of fluid sitting precipitously on the slit. Salty, she thought, but also with an earthy flavor. Just as before. She licked again. And again. Tension radiated from Marc’s body; his hands curled into fists at his sides. Oh, yes, she was pleasing him.

“You’re killing me here, babe,” he growled.

She hummed her satisfaction, opened her lips wider and slid them over the head and onto the fat, wide stalk. The sensation of his thick erection stretching her mouth was so erotic, she persisted, working her mouth down a little at a time. When she’d taken half of it, she slipped one hand between his thighs and cupped his balls, gently squeezing them.

His taste excited her as much as the sudden sense of power the act gave her and pleasure surged through her. After years of placid, uneventful sex, wondering what all the fuss was about, she realized this—this!—was what her friends had giggled about. And avoided discussion about for the most part when they figured out she was outside the circle.

Tentatively, she moved her mouth lower but she’d reach a point where she couldn’t take any more of him.

“Stop.” Marc’s fingers pressed into her jawline.

Emma froze. Was