Operation G-spot. Jodi Lynn Copeland

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СКАЧАТЬ she’d already given him to Kristi. Of course, in the name of orgasm and the Operation G-Spot creed, Kristi would forgive her. And, really, it was too late for anyone to be coming around. Even if someone did pass by, the door was locked. It seemed Dusty knew who he was with, too, since he was calling her by her ridiculously sweet full name.

      Only her name didn’t sound sweet rolling off his tongue. It sounded sexy. Sensual. It made her feel feminine in a way she’d never imagined possible.

      Fiona and Kristi might be nutso for telling her to give Dusty another try, but maybe they were also right. So long as she was maybeing, maybe her intelligence level wasn’t so far off from that stick of gum because she was seriously considering this.

      A little lick couldn’t hurt anything, right?

      Denying further thought, Liz brought her tongue out slowly, wetting her dry lips before flicking the tip of her tongue across his finger. “Oooh…” He was sooo right. They did do great things together. The whipped cream was heavenly. She lapped at his finger, eagerly savoring the sweet, light, velvety taste. She moaned her delight.

      “More?”

      Hearing the strained sound of his voice, she met his eyes. They burned dark with lust, hunger, and, most importantly, stark reality. He wanted her. She wanted him. One night would be okay. One quick screw to get her off and get him out of her life.

      He could pretend he’d come here for cooking lessons, but the truth was clear. He’d come here because he’d yet to give her an orgasm, and his ego couldn’t handle that fact; it wouldn’t be able to let go and move on until he proved he knew where her G-spot lived and exactly how it wanted to be stroked. He’d come here because the cooking class was one of the few places she wouldn’t make a scene, where she would be forced to listen to him, be forced to wiggle her way around his finger and want every little thing he hinted at. His finger that she could go on licking for days…

      The whipped cream was gone, and it was skin she tasted. Hot, potent, virile male skin.

      “It’s good.” Liz licked her tongue across the tip of his finger and sighed. “Damned good.” She traveled her tongue up his finger, knuckle to knuckle, and then turned her mouth on his hand, nibbling along the soft web of flesh between finger and thumb.

      Warm. Salty. So incredibly masculine.

      Dusty grunted and she released his hand to again meet his eyes. Heat rolled through her with the raw desire burning there, turning his eyes to the darkest of chocolates and cascading a rush of wet warmth from her pussy.

      If she hadn’t worn panties tonight, she would be dripping all over the classroom floor. Instead she would be dripping all over his hard cock, in approximately three seconds.

      Christ, the way this man affected her. The other night he’d had her totally forgetting time and place. And now, now he had her so impatient to get them both naked and panting, for the first time in her life she wished she hadn’t made a hobby out of snacking on her fingernails—long ones would seriously come in handy when it came to shredding the clothes from his fine-ass body.

      Speaking of fine asses…

      “You were right—as good as that cream is, it’s still only second best. I’d rather have the first.” Liz flung herself at Dusty, ready to grab hold of his buttocks while she attacked his mouth, devoured his kiss, stripped away his clothes until only sun-bronzed skin kept her from all that first-class muscle and sinew.

      Her hands skimmed the worn cotton of his black T-shirt en route to his delectable behind. Before they could go any farther, she found her hands pushed away from him and pressed up against the refrigerator door along with the rest of her overheated body.

      Holding her wrists above her head in one hand, Dusty brought his free hand to her face. He tilted her chin up and teased a warm, damp kiss at the corner of her lips. “You don’t say,” he taunted, rocking up against her, pressing his dick against her swollen sex, making her ache in a way that couldn’t be legal.

      “Never second-guess me, Marr. Especially when you’re getting what you want. I’m liable to take it away, and we both know how you naughty little boys cry when that happens.”

      His cocky smirk said what they were both thinking: She could never escape his viselike grip. However twisted it might be, she found herself glad for that fact in a way she would never admit to him. Her happiness shot up a level as he tugged the apron from her body with a quick jerk. That happiness flowed over into the serious jubilant range as his hand fisted in the waist of her T-shirt and yanked.

      The sound of ripping cotton filled Liz’s ears and spiked her heart rate. Her pussy thrummed as the torn shirt fell to the ground. Dusty’s attention dropped to her breasts, half-concealed by a black bra. He had the bra off in the instant it took to pop the front clasp, and he sent the lacy garment sailing. For all she knew, her bra had landed on the range top. If the range was hot from the oven beneath, the lace could catch fire. And wouldn’t burning down the building impress the cooking class’s instructor? And wasn’t her messed-up mind totally attempting to take over?

      Cool whipped cream fingered onto her erect nipples had Liz gasping back into the moment. Dusty’s mouth came down, latching onto her swollen tit and sucking at the aching crown. The heat of his mouth quickly replaced the chill of the cream. The grip on her wrists intensified. His sucking turned to tender bites that had liquid longing pumping through her veins and jetting to her core. That longing only grew as the coarse hair of his goatee abraded a nipple.

      Her hips shot forward, connecting her weeping sex with the hard ridge of his cock. Brushing her nipple with his goatee a second time, he pumped his hips back toward her, pushing his shaft harder against her pussy, applying pressure at just the right angle to bring her clit to hot, hungry life.

      Holy shit! Her clit was hungry.

      Now there was something she’d never experienced before. Another brush of his goatee. Another pump of his hips. Her clit went from hungry to famished, tingling with its urgent want. Her sex grew heavy, unbearably moist. So damned needy. She whimpered against the erotic thrill of the foreign sensations and knew beyond a fact that, even though he had yet to move beneath her jeans and panties, he not only knew where her G-spot was, but he also had complete control over it.

      “Enough of the nipple action. Get the fuck in me!”

      Popping the button and easing the zipper down on her jeans, he lifted his mouth from her breast to eye her. “Aren’t much one for patience, are you, babe?”

      Not tonight. Going fast and keeping her mind from straying was the only way to achieve the orgasm slowly building inside her. Not even that was a guarantee. More like a chance in hell. “Now or never. Your choice.”

      Dusty’s fingers uncoiled from her wrists. The hand at the open fly of her jeans fell away. He took a step back.

      Air wheezed in between Liz’s lips and died ice cold in her throat. No way was he stopping. No way would he take her up on that “never” option. He wasn’t even supposed to have an option; they were just stupid words she’d spoken to keep in line with the brash-talking woman she made herself out to be.

      “In that case, see ya around.”

      “Don’t you dare leave me like this, you dickhead!” Liz clamped her mouth shut the second the words left her mouth. It wasn’t fast enough. The knowing smile that curved his lips said he’d heard the desperation in her voice loud and clear.

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