Wicked Games. Alison Kent

tickling mercilessly. Then again, it could’ve been her lips and her tongue and his wicked expectation causing the tingles.

      Whatever it was, he wasn’t going to be able to take much more of this before he grabbed her and flipped her onto her back. He wanted to be inside her in the very worst way. He didn’t think he’d ever ached like this after nothing but a few kisses and a hand job that would’ve admittedly been a whole lot better if she’d actually stroked.

      When he heard the phone ring, he groaned, but Kinsey didn’t stop what she was doing, except to slip both hands underneath his thighs. She pushed his legs up and toward his body until he lay there with his ankles caught up tight where his pants wrapped around them and his knees in the air and all of the family jewels exposed.

      The phone stopped, and Kinsey sat up and grinned, not looking at his face, but at his package, which sent another surge of blood that direction. He pulsed, bobbed, and her grin widened. Oh, yeah. He knew it.

      He was going to die.

      A slow agonizing death by sex, he thought, might just be worth it, especially when she squirreled around down there between his spread thighs where all of America could have been getting a close-up view of every hair on his—

      “Mmm,” Kinsey murmured, licking her lips and preparing to kill him. He watched as she opened her mouth into the most perfect O known to mankind. Then she wrapped those beautiful lips around the head of his cock.

      Yes, yes. Oh, yes. This was what it was all about. This was what he’d been wanting, been waiting for, been…oh, good ever-lovin’ sweet…He groaned, and the sound came straight from his gut.

      “You like?” She pulled away to ask the question.

      Him? Like? He’d like it a whole lot better without having to talk about it. “You have no clue.”

      “Oh, I don’t know.” She ran the tip of her tongue, the sweet little pointed tip only, around the head of his erection. “It’s quite nice from this angle.”

      Was she talking about his taste? His size? What? Why was she talking at all? “That angle totally works for me.”

      “Hmm.” She blew a long stream of warm air over the wetness her mouth had left behind, and he pretty much had to start thinking about elephant dung to keep from coming right then and there.

      “I’m going to try something a little different here. Tell me if you like it.”

      “Go for it, darlin’.” Elephant dung, elephant dung, big stinkin’ elephant dung.

      His cock twitched, his balls drawing up into his body like two blue hockey pucks. Kinsey adjusted her position so that she was coming at him from directly above, and damn if she didn’t swallow him whole.

      Un-friggin’-believable. She had all of him in her mouth. The grip of her hand was as firm as that of her lips as she slid up and down, sucking the life out of him. But he was going to be the only one here getting anything out of this if she didn’t stop. Oh, Mama, stop… “Kinsey?”

      “Mmm?” she murmured, vibrating him from belly to balls.

      “You are amazing.” Suck in a breath. “You are incredible.” Suck it in, bub. Suck it in. “But you are really going to have to cool it down there or dessert’s gonna be over, and you’re still going to be hungry.”

      She chuckled. She had him in her mouth and she actually managed a laugh. But then slowly, as if she were counting each lick of a Tootsie Pop, she pulled her mouth from the base to the head of his cock and, pop, he was free.

      He reached down between his legs and pressed hard against the pounding rush of blood. He squeezed his eyes shut, his panting breaths his only chance at salvation. He heard Kinsey rustling around, and when he finally found the control he needed to open his eyes without his geyser spouting…

      Oh, hell and a half. Here we go again. All that rustling had been Kinsey stripping off her clothes.

      Damn, but he’d wanted to do that.

      Damn, but he didn’t care anymore.

      Not when she stood there at the edge of the sofa, her bare skin glowing with the last of a summer tan. All of her skin, it seemed, but for a tiny strip where two strings would’ve tied a triangle of a bikini bottom over her mound.

      Her nipples were a luscious peachy-pecan in the center of breasts too perfect to be real. Lucky man that he was, he knew that particular truth, however. His mouth began to water; his John Henry began to bob.

      Enough with the ankle bondage and Kinsey not being underneath him. He sat up and swung around and was out of his sweater before his shoes hit the floor. He kicked them off; his pants followed. His shirt lost more than a button or two; his patience went flying off in the same direction.

      She was just standing there, enjoying his struggle and looking as if being naked was as natural as not. Once he’d dug a condom from his billfold, he wasted no time in letting her know how much he liked her lack of inhibition, pulling her to stand between his legs and using his mouth the way he’d been waiting to forever.

      As she took the condom from his hand and opened the packet, he held her hips and settled his mouth over her sex. He licked his way in and out of her folds until she whimpered and squirmed and did everything she could to push him down on to his back.

      “Not yet, darlin’,” he mumbled into her sweetly swollen pussy. She tasted wonderful, clean and salty, as if she spent her days sunbathing after a Mediterranean swim. He swirled his tongue over and around her clit, then used his fingers to spread her open and push his tongue inside her.

      She gasped even as she widened her stance and shoved her fingers into his hair to hold him where she wanted. He didn’t mind, but it wasn’t as if he was going anywhere just yet. He was having too much of a good time tasting and teasing and slurping her up to let go.

      Except Kinsey decided she had other ideas, and moved a step away. He looked up into her mischievous eyes, a blond nymph toying with his condom packet as if he were a donkey and she held his carrot in her hand. In a manner of speaking, he supposed she did.

      He sat back, his legs spread in a wide V, his hands laced on his belly behind his erection, which was more than ready for some action.

      She tapped the condom wrapper to her chin as she considered all he had to offer. When she seemed to make up her mind, she dropped to her knees before him and rolled the sheath to the base of his shaft.

      Thing was, while she was down there she made sure to let him know she wasn’t the least bit intimidated or put off by the male anatomy. For at least five minutes worth of what seemed like forever, he sat like a statue through kisses and forays she made with her fingers and tongue. He felt every end of every nerve fire off round after round of sensation that was not the least bit wholesome, but was sweet in ways that had him biting down on a mouthful of instructional expletives.

      Just when he was ready again to grab her and toss her on to her back, she moved away, pushed his knees together, turned and straddled his lap in reverse. Sweet, gorgeous, baby, doll. The movement gave him such a memorable view of her ass that he swore he’d take the picture to his grave.

      Then, reaching between her legs, she took hold of his cock and guided him to where he needed to be, lowering herself until he was completely buried in the hottest sweetest piece he’d ever had the pleasure to know.

      Pleasure. No, that was weak. The word failed to cover half of what he felt when she took him inside. But he had to keep this physical. Feeling he could deal with; feeling rocked his world. Feeling meant he didn’t have to think.

      He wasn’t sure what to do with his hands, finally setting them at her hips, where he could guide her angle, control her speed. He hated having to hold her at all; sitting back and just enjoying the view suited him just fine.

      Seeing the sloping arch of her back, the wide-open space between her legs that revealed exactly what she was giving him and where his cock was buried…

      He