“You’re a vicious little thing,” he rasped in her ear.
She clawed at his shirt, and he buried his head in her breasts and licked and nibbled on the frosting that covered them. She cupped the back of his neck and leaned away to give him better access. Which he took. The man had a mouth on him that made her whole body light up like a furnace. He licked along her neck, then lower, and he shoved aside the deep V of her dress and bared her still bra-covered breasts. The brim of his Stetson scratched her throat as he sucked along the exposed flesh of her chest. He was making a mess of her and her new dress. But when he brought one breast out of her bra and sucked hard on her nipple, she didn’t care in the least. Fulfilling this forbidden fantasy was wrong on so many levels, but with his mouth on her, it felt so right.
“I still think you’re sweet,” East growled, blindly grabbing another cupcake from the display and slapping another heap of the cake and frosting on the top of her thighs. She wiggled in his arms, but he kept her right on him and spread her legs and stepped between them.
“Well, I still think you’re a pain.” She tugged him close for a kiss.
He squeezed her thighs until she yipped. “I think you like my version of pain.” He bit her neck, and she moaned. Maybe she did like it. A lot. She’d never been so turned on before. Never wanted someone so badly. But she knew, even through her foggy thoughts…
“You are so so wrong for me,” she said.
Shit. Was he going to stop now? Should he stop now? If anyone from her family saw them like this—
“Testify, darlin’,” he agreed, his thumb digging into her frosting-covered thighs while he sucked at her breast.
Okay, so they were both on the same page. Kind of. Because he didn’t stop kissing her, and she sure as hell wasn’t about to stop letting him. Every breath, every touch of his hands, and she knew this was that thing she’d been looking for.
Passion.
It was amazing and heady and deliciously weighty. And she felt it settle all over her like her own personal gravity of bliss, and she wanted to roll around in it like a warm blanket and never let it go. Jesus, this was drugging. She could see how people became addicted to sex. Not that she and East had even had sex yet—God, “yet” implied she wanted it to happen—but just the hot and heavy frosting-fondling was enough to make her hips rock to press her center against his jean-clad erection.
“Look at you,” he said, and ran his fingers through the frosting on her leg and up her inner thigh. “You’re close already, and I’ve barely touched you.”
“Barely touched me?” She looked down. “You’ve covered me in frosting and there’s going to be bruises on my ass and thighs from your manhandling.”
“Well, say the word, darlin’, and I’ll stop all the handling,” he teased just as his sugary fingers found her panties.
“You stop and I’ll kill you.”
“You’re hot when you’re giving out threats, Little Natalie.”
Little Natalie. The mocking name he’d given her when they were teenagers to let her know he was older and always knew better. Well, she’d grown up since then, and she wasn’t going to let him lord anything over her anymore. Certainly not tonight.
She reached between them and grabbed his hard cock through his jeans. He instantly stilled.
“If you call me Little Natalie again, I’ll start calling you Little Easton.” She squeezed harder, and he gritted his teeth, biting back a hiss. “And not in the good way.”
He growled and nipped along her neck. “There’s nothing little about me,” he said, and he thrust his hips toward her so that her grip on his shaft had no choice but to move along it. Oh yeah, there was nothing little about him. She could attest to that. The hard cock in her grasp was impressive, and she hadn’t even properly seen or felt all of it yet.
But East didn’t seem to mind how hard she was gripping him, so she rubbed along the steel rod in his jeans, then grabbed him even harder.
“Fuck, baby,” he said, switching from the “darlin’” she was used to. Watching his face tense with pleasure while he called her “baby” was so…hot. It made her feel sexy, like the woman she wanted to be.
Not sweet.
“Rethinking your stance on me yet, Easton?” she asked with more confidence than she’d felt in a long time. He gave her a satisfied “mmm” just as he thrust into her hand.
He threw his head back. “Yes. But you best be warned, I like it rough.”
His words sparked through her whole body until her nipples zinged so hard with anticipation it almost hurt. She’d wanted this—wanted him—for longer than she dared admit. And now, though she knew she should stop here, ought to send him out and forget this had ever happened, she had him in her hands and heaven help her, she couldn’t stop herself. She needed more, and it looked like he needed more, so she did the only logical thing:
She went for it.