Her Book Of Pleasure

“Mmmm.” He swirled his tongue around her areola, exploring the taut flesh. Lifting his mouth, he blew gently on her damp skin. She cried and grabbed his shirtfront.

“No fair! I want to touch you, too.” Michiko unbuttoned his shirt with shaking hands. She pushed his shirt off his shoulders and ran her long nails across his chest.

He groaned, falling into her spell again. She laughed and tried to pull him toward the bed, but he didn’t plan on letting her take charge. “Not yet.” He leaned close and lightly nipped her breast. “You can wait.”

“Oh, no, I can’t.”

He cut off her protest with his mouth, kissing her hungrily until she melted against him. He trailed his lips over her silken skin to her right breast, nuzzling his cheek against her soft flesh. She cupped her breast, offering the nipple to him, and he eagerly accepted, sucking at her with hard, eager pulls.

It was amazingly erotic that almost her whole breast fit into his mouth. He was rapidly developing a preference for small-breasted women, especially when Michiko arched her back and moaned. He shoved her dress off her hips, grabbing her ass with both hands. She rubbed her hips against his bare belly, nearly losing her balance.

“Rick, wait—I have to get my dress.” She tugged at his head, making him release her breast. She kicked her feet free and bent over to pick up the dress, her breasts swaying free.

“Forget the dress.” He cupped her in his palm, rolling the slick nipple between his fingers.

She closed her eyes and licked her lips, leaning into his caress for a brief second before straightening. “I’ll be right there, lover,” she said, her husky voice full of promise.

Lover? The word sent a thrill down his spine. He yanked his shirt out of his waistband and threw it on the floor.

Michiko sashayed to the armchair sitting in the corner and draped her dress over it. Her ass was lush and full, barely covered by a tiny pair of pale green panties. Her legs were short and shapely, encased in silky stockings. The stockings were flesh-colored but had some sparkling threads woven throughout. The shimmering lace band of her stockings gripped her thighs only a few inches below her panties.

She slowly bent from the waist to unstrap her high-heeled sandals, showing him where her panties dipped between her buttocks, cupping her folds. He saw a darker green patch where her arousal had dampened the silk. “Stop. I want you to leave the shoes on.”

“Do you like tall girls better?” She straightened and lifted an eyebrow.

“Not particularly. I like how the high heels make your breasts jut and your ripe little ass sway when you walk.”

She gasped. Then her tongue darted out to moisten her lips and he realized his blunt words had aroused her. She was in luck if she liked plain speaking, since he was too painfully hard to think of a flowery speech.

Sitting on the edge of the king-size bed, he spread his legs wide and adjusted his cock in his uncomfortably snug pants. “Walk over here to me, Michiko.”

MICHIKO. What would Michiko do? Meg stared at him, her pulse and thoughts racing. The ball was in her court. Put out or get out. She almost giggled with anticipation. His upper body was heavy with muscle. The reddish hair covering his chest glinted gold in the warm, intimate lamplight, his skin a burnished bronze.

Despite Rick’s size, though, she wasn’t intimidated. She took a deep breath, thrust out her chest and cocked a hip. No point in playing coy anymore. They both wanted the same thing.

She strutted across the bedroom carpet, making sure to throw an extra wiggle in her walk. His eyes darkened to a dark sapphire blue. She moved past him and sat on the side of the bed. Swinging her legs onto the mattress, she crossed her ankles and leaned on her elbows. He had turned to watch her. “Are you coming, Rick?”

Meg didn’t know a big man could move so fast. He made a graceful pouncing move, covering her body with his. She shifted under him, and he groaned. “Do that again.” He lowered his mouth to hers and she rolled her hips against his erection. Her satin panties rasped erotically across his hair-roughened belly, his cold belt buckle pressing her thigh.

She grabbed his broad shoulders as he stroked her. “You’re dripping wet.” He pushed aside the elastic and slipped a long, thick finger inside her. She cried out at the intense pressure stretching her. He added another finger, thrusting them in and out. Soft, gasping moans came from her dry throat as he rubbed his chest against hers, her sensitive nipples catching in his hair.

“You like that, don’t you, Michiko?” He circled her clitoris with the pad of his thumb, drawing the satin tight against the cleft of her bottom.

Meg nodded, all rational thoughts flying from her mind.

“Good.” He stopped.

“What?” Stopping wasn’t good, not when she was so close, the tiny nub between her legs sending shudders through her. Rick pulled her limp body to a sitting position and tugged the hairpins from her hair.

She pushed his hands away. “Stop! I have to go back to the reception and my hair will be a mess.”

“You seem to have the wrong impression, Michiko.” He traced a hairpin down to her breast and circled it around her nipple.

“What wrong impression?” Her breath caught in her throat as he swirled the pin around her other nipple.

“That I’m in a hurry. That this is some ten-minute wedding reception quickie.” He spread the metal wide, bending it out of shape.

“Isn’t it?”

“No.” He caught her nipple in the hairpin’s curve and gently squeezed the ends together. “I plan on taking my time.”

“I don’t want you to take your time.” She arched her neck and moaned as he pinched her a bit harder and licked the swollen flesh. “I want to come.” She was begging. She never begged during sex. Sex with her ex had certainly not been anything to beg for. Except maybe mentally begging him to finish.

“You will come. But not yet.” He released the hairpin and she bit off an unladylike curse. “I want to see your black hair spread over my white pillow. I want to run my hands through it as I pound into you.”

Wow. When he put it like that…Meg yanked hairpins out of her French twist and threw them on the floor.

“I said, I’m not in a hurry.” Rick pushed her hands aside and ran his fingers through her hair, finding hidden hairpins and setting them carefully on the nightstand. She arched in sheer pleasure as his fingertips massaged her sore scalp.

“Mmmm. Feels good.” She rubbed her cheek along the crisp hair of his forearm.

“You look like a little cat when you do that, especially with those green eyes glittering at me.” He finger-combed her hair over her shoulders and breasts.

“Do you like little pussycats, Rick?” She peeped coyly at him through the curtain of her hair.

She shrieked as he grabbed her ass and yanked her underneath him, her thighs sprawling wide.

“Pussycats?” His voice was raspy and dangerous as he eased down her body until his mouth hovered above her stomach. “You have to be careful until you know what they like.” He dipped his tongue into her belly button, nibbling at the tender flesh surrounding it.

She giggled and swatted at his head. “Stop! I’m ticklish!” First begging, now giggling. He was certainly bringing out new sides of her in bed.

“There you go. Some pussycats are ticklish. So you have to try something else.” He blew on her damp belly and she shuddered, threading her fingers through his thick wavy hair.

“Come here and kiss me.” She tugged lightly on his head.

He ignored her command, his stare fixed on her panties. “Do you know what I like to do?” His mouth was so close to her that his deep voice sent vibrations to her clit.

“What?” She let go of his hair.

His blue eyes glowed brightly. All her talk about pussycats had unleashed a tiger. “I love to pet little black pussycats. Pet them and stroke them until they purr.”

She gulped.

He yanked her panties to her knees and nuzzled the strip of black hair, his hot breath scorching her throbbing flesh. She mentally blessed Rey for dragging her to the spa for a wax job.

Bikini waxes abruptly flew from her mind as Rick leisurely circled the aching nub with his thumb. She thrashed her head against the pillow, her hips thrusting at him. “Faster, faster.”

“Sorry, the pussycat doesn’t have a say.” He deliberately slowed his caresses to a stop. “Say please, pussycat.”