Composing Love

Her fingers played over his arms. He was starting to suspect that she had a thing for his arms. Maybe his tattoos. Both, really.

“I do have rules that make my life easier. But this feels right. Being with you…it feels right. And I want to-to sleep with you.” She looked right at him, nodding as though she were reassuring herself as much as him.

“I want to, too. But I won’t pressure you to do anything you don’t want to do.” He kissed her again, gently this time, and it was a few minutes before she pulled away to respond.

“You’re not pressuring me. I’m pressuring myself. I’ve never done that before.”

“Then don’t do it now. Take the pressure off. Don’t worry about pleasing anyone but yourself.”

She dipped her head a bit and looked up at him through her lashes, and a surge of arousal shot through him. He didn’t often see this coy, teasing side of Minh, which made it feel all the more erotic. A slow smile curved her lips.

“What if I want you to please me? Or pleasure me, in this case?”

Hot damn. He didn’t argue with her any longer, just took her hand and led her to the edge of his bed. They stood there kissing for a few more minutes while her fingers worked at the buttons of his shirt.

She pushed him down on the bed, running her hands all over his arms. Over his chest. Down his body. “It’s like tracing a map.” She shook her head. “No. More like tracing a story. Or a song.”

He’d never heard that said about his ink before, but he liked it.

He slid his hand up under her shirt, skimming over the soft skin of her stomach, up to the bottom edge of her bra. “I want to see you too.” He brought his other hand up, grabbing the hem of her shirt and pushing it up, until she yanked it over her head, then threw it to the floor.

Fuck. She was gorgeous. A study in contrast. Thin but curvy…a sharp nose but full lips…shimmering dark skin highlighted by the cream-colored lace of her bra and those jean shorts she was wearing…

He wanted those off too. He wanted everything off.

He pulled her down to kiss him, running his hands over her back, down to her ass, squeezing her there before slipping one finger under the waistband of her shorts and gently tugging.

She rubbed against his cock through his pants and he groaned. “Minh—”

She levered herself up on one arm and covered his lips with one of the fingers of her free hand. “Shh.”

She stood again and unclasped her bra, tossing it aside as her breasts came free, the firm, round globes bobbing gently as she bent and unbuttoned her shorts, pushing them over her hips and letting them fall to the floor. He watched the fabric drop, and his cock jumped in response, reminding him that he still had too many clothes on. In a flash, he undid his own pants and ripped them off, grateful that he was not the kind of guy who regularly wore underwear. His cock stood upright, already so hard that even the cool air that moved over it when he took off his clothes was arousing him even more.

“Wow.” She was staring at his erection, a bit wide-eyed, and the look on her face made him reach a hand down and circle his fingers around the base to hold off a too-early climax.

No woman had ever made him want to come from just a look.

He let out a rough, jerky laugh. “Fuck. You’re so beautiful.” She was, in fact, the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen. Her breasts alone were the stuff of fantasies. Smooth and brown and topped with large, dark nipples that were pointing out, teasing him with their arousal. Her thighs were slightly rounded at the top, curving along the edge of her pink panties.

Pink.

So sexy.

She smiled and moved back onto the bed, straddling him. “No. You’re the beautiful one,” she whispered, and he pushed his hips up, grunting as his cock pressed against the fabric of her panties. He could feel them straining tight over her opening, and it nearly killed him to be so close.

She moved down his body, rubbing him the entire time, feathering touches over the wings of the phoenix that was on his chest…stroking over where the clouds ended just above the muscles of his stomach. Her fingers slid over his cock, and she had to grip tightly to close them around his shaft, but she did, making him nearly buck his hips off the bed at the pleasurable pressure. And when she gripped his thighs—the tattoo of a hammer on one side and a scythe on the other—and lowered her mouth to the tip of him, she let out a hum of satisfaction that nearly killed him.

“Oh God. Shit. Are you sure?” He’d picked his head up off the bed and was watching her, his voice rasping out the question.

She smiled around the head of his cock, just before she took in a breath and then sank deep. His head dropped back and he moaned, pushing his hips up just slightly, straining toward her as she moved her mouth back up. Shit. He couldn’t let her do this. He wasn’t going to last long this way. He reached out a hand and slowly eased her off of him and sat up.

“What are—?”

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