“Christ, you’re perfect,” he whispered, beginning to dance kisses down my spine, exactly like in my dream. My dream lover come to life, my dark knight, loving me with his mouth and his words as I arched backward. “Look at you—look at all this gorgeous,” he whispered to my skin, leaving wet kisses on the tattoo of the oak tree on the back of my neck, whose roots spread across the tops of my shoulders. The interlocking circles in the small of my back. The symbol for pi on my left cheek. He groaned when he kissed that one, wet open-mouth kisses and teethy nibbles. Then his hands were slipping beneath my ribs and moving on up.
“Vivian,” he breathed into my ear, and I turned in his arms. In my dreams I’d never seen his face, and I needed to see him. I didn’t want to miss any part of this. His hands, so very smooth, covered my breasts completely. He cupped their weight and I moaned. Fascinated, he leaned down, his tongue dragging from my collarbone to between my breasts, where he rested his head. My hands went to his hair, holding him close sweetly as he breathed in the scent of my skin.
Nuzzling now, he swept the tiniest of kisses back and forth, his hair tickling my sensitive skin. His hands clutched at me greedily once more, and I felt my breasts tighten, which he noticed. With a dark laugh, he studied the ring in my nipple, standing tall and aching for his mouth. “Stunning,” he whispered, and then his lips closed over the peak. My back arched, the sensation of his wet mouth and strong tongue teasing and taunting me. Something twisted deep inside of me, a desire so strong I almost came right then from the feel of his mouth on my breast. Flicking the tiny ring with his tongue, he tugged at it lightly with his teeth, and I hissed.
He sucked me deep into his mouth, his arms wrapped around me tightly, not letting me move under his attentions. My body bowed, aching to get as close to him as possible, looking for any kind of friction I could find. Clark had a similar thought in mind because he stood, picking me up with one hand on my bottom and the other around my thigh, making me shudder with delight at the way we slid against each other. I assaulted his mouth with my own in a frenzy to have him inside of me, any way that I could.
His strength moved us through the house quickly, past the living room, up the stairs, then pausing on the landing—where he placed me on top of the widest part of the railing, nudging my legs apart with his hips and with a wicked glint in his eye. Then he knelt before me.
“There’s been something I’ve been dying to do since the first time you argued with me, right here.” He kissed up the inside of one thigh and then the other, licking and thrusting with his tongue, holding my legs open with his shoulders as he groaned at the sight of me, open for him, ready for him. “Oh, Christ, you’re beautiful,” he said in awe. I shook with need, his gaze alone doing naughty things to me, and he looked up. “Do you know where we are, Vivian?” he asked, his eyes almost black with need. My hand was buried in his hair, grabbing for support as my legs scrambled for purchase.
“On the baluhwhozit?” I managed, and his grin was enough to make me fall in love with him all over again.
“Balustrade,” he corrected, sliding me even closer to him, his grip firm on my hips. “I’m going to fuck you on this balustrade, so hard you’ll feel it in your bones.” He slowly breathed me in, nudging me with his nose. Sweet heaven, my librarian was a dirty talker. “But first? I’m going to indulge in a dream of my own.” One finger slid down from my hip, circling closer and closer, winding me up, driving me crazy.
“You see, Vivian, when I called you? Late at night? It was because I wanted to talk to you, get to know you, learn more about you. What you might like, what you might love,” he continued, now teasing lightly at my clit with his fingertip. I cried out, slapping at the railing, trusting Clark to keep me where he needed me to be. “And all that time, what I was actually dreaming about?” he said, looking up at me with those eyes full of lust. “Was the taste of you. All over my tongue.”
I died. I cried. And then I died again as he buried his face between my legs and fucked me with his tongue. He pulled my legs over his shoulders, wild and crazy and so strong. One hand held me open for him while the other clutched at my bottom, pushing me into his face, holding me tight. While I perched on his mother-loving balustrade. And when I came for him, knees clutched around his ears, hands buried in his silky brown hair, screaming his name, his eyes stared up at me with wicked running through them.
But I needed more. “Please Clark—please,” I begged, my limp body still so very needy for him. I needed him inside.
“Condom?” he asked, his voice strained.
“Pill, we’re good. Tested?”
“Clean.”
“Me too.” I stared down at him in wonder. Nothing would be between us—nothing at all. He kissed me, deep and slow and searching, the taste of me all over him. I licked his lips, clutched his neck, needing him closer, closer, closer.