Postcards From…Verses Brides Babies And Billionaires. Rebecca Winters

      Her teeth dented her lower lip and she nodded. “Yes.”

      Dragging the brush from her belly button down to the bare patch of skin at the apex of her thighs, he forced himself to move slowly. This wasn’t something that could—or should—be rushed. He would draw her pleasure out, string her along as much as willpower would allow.

      The streak of dark chocolate against her white skin was striking and erotic. He circled the brush lower, creating a swirl over the lips of her sex. When he stroked her clit with the brush, she gasped and arched her back. Her slim fingers curled around the edge of the table, and it was all he could do not to guide them to his steel-hard cock.

      Patience. He would have his turn soon, but not before he tasted her.

      The brush caressed her skin as he painted her, concentrating on the bundle of nerves between her legs. A low, throaty moan was his reward.

      “Please, Rhys,” she gasped. “Oh God, please.”

      “I thought art was supposed to take time,” he teased. “You can’t rush a masterpiece.”

      Her hips bucked as he applied more pressure, her lashes fluttering. He’d never seen a more beautiful sight.

      “This masterpiece is about to combust,” she said through gritted teeth.

      A chuckle rumbled deep in his chest. “I’d better take care of that.”

      At the first swipe of his tongue she let out a low, keening moan. He took his time, cleaning her up with his tongue until there wasn’t a trace of the chocolate sauce left. His lips peppered her with soft kisses as he worked his way around her, avoiding the one spot where she wanted him most.

      She grasped his head, seeking to control his movements. “Please, Rhys. I’m dying.”

      “No, you’re not.” He nuzzled her. “I’ll look after you.”

      Running his hands up and down her thighs, he parted her with his thumbs. She was swollen with desire, her body totally primed and ready for him. The sight made all the blood in his body rush south, leaving him light-headed in the best way possible.

      “I need to come,” she whimpered.

      Her pleas turned into a low groan of surrender as he drew her clit between his lips, focusing on that one sensitive spot until the shudders started. Her thigh trembled against his cheek and her breath quickened. When the moment of her release hit, her nails dug into his shoulders and she cried out his name.

      He’d never forget how it sounded on her lips.

      Gathering her up in his arms, he carried her to the bathroom. Her arms wound around his neck as if out of instinct. “Where are you taking me?”

      “You’ve had your fun. Now I’m going to clean us up,” he said, pressing a kiss to her forehead.

      “See, I knew you couldn’t handle being messy.”

      “I don’t think you’ll be complaining once we get started.”

      Her bathroom was the same as the one in his apartment, at least when it came to the layout and fittings. But instead of his fluffy gray towels hanging from the rack, she had threadbare versions in an almost psychedelic pink-and-green print. The top of her sink was dotted with several tubes of lip gloss, a hairbrush and a bottle of perfume. A pair of hot-pink panties sat in one corner on the floor.

      “Don’t judge me,” she grumbled as he set her down, shoving the panties to one side with her foot.

      “No judgment. Why don’t you get the water running and I’ll get out of these pants?”

      Her eyes sparkled. “Good idea.”

      She stepped into the shower and turned on the tap. Water ran down her body and she jumped up and down on the spot while it warmed up. The cold spray made her nipples pink and stiff.

      For a moment all he could do was stare. As steam started to billow up, she tilted her head back and let the spray of water slide down her. It mixed with the chocolate on her chest and ran down her body, washing away the evidence of their messy interlude.

      “You’re supposed to be stripping,” she said, pointing to his jeans. “Come on, I’ve shown you mine.”

      His cock was straining hard against the fly of his jeans, and he gave in to the desire for some friction there. Rubbing the heel of his palm up and down the hard length, he watched as Wren’s eyes widened. He loosened his belt and unzipped the denim, letting it drop to his feet. As he pushed down his boxer briefs, he felt her eyes on him.

      They were hungry eyes. Excited eyes. The kind of eyes that made him feel alive.

      “Like what you see?” he asked as she drank him in.

      Her head bobbed. “Yeah.”

      He kicked the discarded clothing to one side and joined her in the shower. The warm water loosened muscles he hadn’t realized were bunched up. He’d been coiled like a spring waiting to have his moment with her.

      “You don’t have to stop at looking,” he said, cornering her against the tiled wall.

      “That might get messy,” she warned.

      “I’m coming around to your way of doing things.” He bent his head to hers and claimed her in a scorching kiss. “I can handle a little mess with you.”

      There was no hesitation when she reached for him, her fingers wrapping around his cock as though they belonged there. She squeezed him and ran her hand up and down, twisting her wrist slightly. Feeling him. Learning him.

      “Is that good?” she asked, her voice breathy.

      “Hell yeah.” He reached for her free hand and guided her to cup his balls. “This feels good, too.”

      Her curiosity was like a drug and her touch moved from tentative to bold. Stoking harder, she rubbed the tip of him between her legs.

      “Jesus, Wren. What are you doing to me?”

      “Something right by the sound of it.”

      He jerked into her grip, his hips bucking of their own accord. There was only one way this could end, and that end would be pretty damn sudden if he didn’t take back control. “Tell me you bought some protection.”

      “Oops.”

      “Wren,” he growled. If they had to stop now the frustration may kill him.

      “It’s okay.” She pressed a finger to his lips. “Let me take care of it.”

      She sank to her knees, her hands running down over his stomach to his thighs. Bracing herself against him, she dropped her head to the tip of his cock. Her tongue darted out to taste him. Test him.

      It was sweet, sweet torture.

      She guided his hand to her hair, and he threaded his fingers through the now wet strands. When she sank her mouth onto him, he groaned and the sound vibrated within the confines of the shower. There was nothing more erotic than watching himself slide in and out of her pink lips. Or the way she wrapped her fingers around him, working him slowly to orgasm.

      She drew back, releasing him from her mouth. “You taste good.”

      “You feel good.” He rested his head against the tiles, relishing the consistent stroke of her hand. “Those lips are incredible.”

      “Just my lips?” Her tongue swirled around the sensitive crown of his cock.

      “That, too.” The words were strangled by his pleasure. “Everything, Wren. So. Damn. Good.”

      She guided him back into her mouth and hummed in response. The vibrations almost sent him over the edge, and he fisted his hand in her hair. She scraped her teeth gently along the underside of his cock, ratcheting up the sensation.

      “Wren.” His hips jerked as she