“Acceptable,” he murmured against her mouth, before kissing her deeply again.

His hands went to her blouse next, those big fingers clumsily working the delicate pearl buttons. He fumbled through a few before he said, “I’ll buy you a new one,” then tore the shirt open.

Since she had carpet, there was no rolling of buttons to be heard. Pity. Marcus had just fulfilled a fantasy of hers. She’d always wanted someone to rip her shirt off.

He cupped her breasts and smashed them together, burying his face in her cleavage. Then he licked between them before darting along the edge of her bra. He grazed a nipple and her hands moved to his head, her fingers crushing his hair. He didn’t seem to mind, repeating the move on the other breast while she squirmed. Her hips wiggled urgently.

“Impatient.” But he didn’t torture her further, fisting the sides of her skirt and yanking it down. A guttural sound of appreciation echoed in his throat before he pressed his face against her lace panties and tugged with his teeth. Then those were gone, too, snatched away and sliding south. Her bedroom lamp was on—she always left it on as a safety precaution when she was out after dark—so she could see everything he was doing.

And what he was doing was…staring. Watching the apex of her thighs while untangling the scrap of material from her ankles. He slipped her shoes away as well, getting her good and naked, save for the bra still hiding her breasts.

From his knees he looked up at her, dark brown eyes filled with a hazy brand of passion that made her shiver all over. “You’re bare.”

She was.

The first time he’d undressed her she’d made an excuse for not being prepared for “company” and while he’d had no problem with the triangle of smooth, reddish curls he’d found, Lily wanted to surprise him in case there was a next time. “Do you like it?”

“More than like, sweetheart.” Roughened palms slid up her thighs and over her hips. He parted her, lowered his face, and slicked his tongue along her center.

Oh. Oh, yes. Yes, yes, yes.

“Way more than like,” he mumbled against her.

Her head dropped back on her neck. How long had it been since she’d had a man’s face between her thighs? Too long. Too, too long. And really, it was because she didn’t let just anyone down there. This took a lot of trust and—

“Marcus.” Her hands were in his hair, guiding his head back and forth as his tongue assaulted her. She lost his mouth, and a petulant grunt came from her next. Finally, she let a guy down there, and he had no desire to stay. Bummer.

But she’d misread him, clearly, because then he said, “On the bed. What I have planned for you will render you unable to stand.”

Her eyebrows lifted as he rose to his full height over her. “What…what do you have planned?”

“About an hour of that. I’m good at it.” He ducked his head and kissed her lips, and she tasted herself on his mouth.

She’d just bet.

“I’ll have you writhing,” he said, tugging her nipples. “Soaked.” He tugged again and licked his tongue over her lips. “Begging me to stop.”

“Wanna bet?” she breathed, trying to joke to find her footing in this moment.

“You’ll lose.”

She grinned. “And win.”

“We’ll all win.” He slapped her ass, just a quick sting of a touch, and pointed to her bed.

Her nipples hardened when she thought of what was coming soon to a bedspread near her, and Lily crawled onto the bed and lay flat on her back.

…

Marcus wasn’t lying when he said he was good at this.

He knew what women liked, and even though he and Lily had been together one time—if he didn’t count the pantry—he was pretty sure he knew what she liked.

He unbuttoned his shirt, flattered when she watched hungrily as he bared his chest to her. He felt the small smile inching across his mouth but buried it, not wanting to take her out of the moment. Still. Her attention made him puff with male pride.

He shed his pants, shoes, and socks, leaving his boxer briefs, slightly damp from her exploration earlier.

“I didn’t get to finish what I started in the pantry,” she said quietly.

His dick jerked to attention. Down, boy.

“Would you like to?” he asked.

“Yes, please.” She nodded eagerly.

Damn. He liked that.

“We’ll arrange for that. But first…” He put his knee on the bed and dipped his chin. “Spread your legs.”

She smiled, the fire in her eyes matching the strawberry in her hair. Obediently, she spread her legs.

“Beautiful.” His voice was a comical mixture of rumbling and reverent. Eyes glued to the recently bared part of her, he made room between her thighs with his shoulders. Parting her folds, he held her open and slicked his tongue along her slowly.

She bucked against his face.

Sensitive, too. Oh, this was going to be fun.

He glanced up at her, licking her again. She had thrown her hands out and fisted the sheets. So he continued. And was rewarded for his efforts by a thrusting, moaning woman whose cheeks and chest flushed when she came.

And came again.

“Please, Marcus,” she panted, clamping her thighs over his ears. He pulled her legs apart and increased the pressure against her clit. “I can’t.” Her protest was a shout as she tried unsuccessfully to squirm away. “Please! No more, no… oh! Oh! Marcus!”

He didn’t let up, holding her legs and feeling her pulse against his tongue. Her screaming faded into mewls which faded into what sounded like a soft sob. And this time she’d said his name without any prompting at all. It was a great gift.

He let her go, her legs falling open as he leaned over her at the top of the bed. He lifted the very limp arm she’d thrown over her face and dropped it to the side. He smoothed her hair—gone curly, since her temples were damp with sweat—away from her forehead.

“Told you you’d beg,” he reminded her.

“Hmm,” she hummed, satisfied. He could see the satisfied. Her eyes opened lazily, blinking even more lazily. “Wow.”

His grin was genuine. And yes, cocky. He couldn’t help it. Seeing her this pleased, he felt like he’d won some sort of kinky lottery.

One of her hands slipped over his boxer briefs and squeezed. He was hard, getting harder now that she was touching him. “I’m doing you next.”

“No. You’re not.” He dipped his head in reference to the part of her he was just enjoying. “I want in there.”

A laugh sounded in her throat, also making him feel proud. “You have a way with words, Black.”

“I have a way with you, McIntire.” He lowered over her, kissing her, running his tongue along the tip of hers. “You are powerless beneath me.”

Her eyes flared with heat, this time directed at him, and not what he was doing to her. He wanted that—wanted her seeing him as he was, not who she’d mistakenly assumed him to be. He may have been playing the field for a while, but if Lily was game, she was the only field he had any interest in. The realization scared the hell out of him, but there it was.

“Condom,” she said.

“Like it when you’re impatient.” He left her briefly to fish a foil packet out of his pants pocket. He may have happened to buy a box and tuck it under the passenger seat of his car. And he may have torn off three of them and stuffed them into his pocket when he pulled up behind her at her house.

He rolled off his boxers and rolled on the condom before climbing up her sweet body, positioning himself, and sinking deep. Throwing her head back, she screamed again. Loud.

“God, you’re sensitive,” he told her.

She moaned.

He thrust his hips forward, going deeper, and was rewarded with another moan, accompanied by her fingernails clawing down his back. He continued pumping into her as she held on, legs wide, arms tightening around his back, and soon she was coming again, her inner muscles clamping down on him and causing him to wedge his teeth together.