Ginger's Heart (A Modern Fairytale, #3)

He ran his hands from her throat, slowly and deliberately over her breasts, to the hem of her sweater, slipping underneath it to land on the bare skin of her waist. While his tongue savaged her mouth, his hands met on her back, his fingers unfastening her bra with a practiced flick, and she raised her arms without being asked so he could pull off her sweater and toss it, along with the bra, on the floor.

“Ginger,” he groaned, wedging his knee between her legs and dropping his lips to her nipple. “A day away from you is too long . . .”

“Ahh,” she whimpered as he latched onto the erect bud, sucking it into his mouth and rolling it between his upper lip and tongue. “Caaaaaaain . . .”

“You taste like sugar, darlin’. You make me crazy.”

As he laved his tongue over the slick nub, he cupped her cheek and slipped his thumb into her mouth, and she sucked it eagerly, imitating the pressure he used on her nipple and finally releasing it with a pop.

He dropped the glistening digit to her already slick and distended nipple, circling it slowly as he circled the other with the tip of his tongue. Maddeningly slow, his tongue traced her areola, and she arched her back, desperate for him to take her nipple between his lips and suck. Just when she thought she might go crazy, he licked the hard bud, then blew on it softly, and she cried out, not quite in orgasm, but because the sensation was so strong and so good and so frustratingly not enough. Her hunger was increasing. What had made her come on Sunday wasn’t enough on Tuesday.

“Cain,” she whimpered as he flicked his thumb over her nipple. “I need . . . I need more . . .”

“I know, baby,” he said, dropping one hand to the button of her jeans and twisting it open with his fingers. He flattened his hand over the zipper and murmured close to her ear, “Weekend’s over. Are you okay with the jeans comin’ off? If you want me to stop, say stop.”

She was wet and aching, and her jeans were going to have to come off to relieve the pitch of her desire.

“Don’t stop.”

“I’m goin’ to love you with my tongue, baby.”

“Oh, my God . . .”

“You’ve done this?”

“N-no, but I need you.”

“You’re sure, baby?”

“Cain, please.”

Her breathing quickened to a pant as he dropped his hand, releasing the fullness of her breast, and fell to his knees before her. He yanked her jeans and panties to her knees, then cupped her ass and jerked her forward, keeping her back braced against the door as he pulled her legs over his shoulders. She let her hands slip over her damp, erect nipples, over the soft skin of her stomach, and reached down to part the folds of her sex with her fingers. Cain leaned forward, and Ginger’s head fell back against the office door as his tongue licked her clit in one long, slow stroke.

“Ohhh,” she moaned, the sound like dying, like crying, like shock and surprise and heaven.

With her hands on either side of his head, she guided him gently back and forth, up and down, his tongue brushing against her with increasing pressure as his fingers kneaded her ass, pushing her sex into his face and then letting her slide away.

The muscles deep inside her body were stretched taut and tight, like violin strings twisted to a hair’s breadth of snapping, when he leaned his head all the way back and fucked her with his tongue, one hand holding her up as the other reached around and pinched her clit.

“Cain!”

She screamed his name as she exploded in wild waves, trembling and shaking, her insides flooding hot and wet, coating his tongue and his lips as she rode out the most complete and profound orgasm of her life.

Finally, as the tremors began to subside, she felt her feet hit the floor and his arms anchor her to his body as he stood up. She leaned against him, limp and loose and utterly sated.

“Catch your breath, baby. I’m doin’ that to you again in ten minutes.”

Her eyes fluttered open, and she looked up at him, laughing softly at the lazy, self-satisfied look in his clear blue eyes as he gazed down at her.

“Promise?” she asked, breathless and trembling.

“Fuck, yeah. That was the hottest fuckin’ thing I’ve ever seen in my life.”

She took a shaky breath and smiled at him, leaning up on her tiptoes to kiss him, when the phone rang.

“Ignore it,” he growled.

“Cain,” she said, gasping as he rolled her nipple between his thumb and forefinger. “I should answer it.”

“No. We should kiss again.”

She covered his hand, pressing it against her sensitive, bare skin but gently stilling his movements. “You’ll lose business.”

“Good. I have enough.” His eyes were so dark, she could barely make out the ring of ice blue. “What I don’t have is enough of you, princess. I’ll never get enough of you.”

The phone rang again, and she leaned forward to press another kiss to his lips, then reached down to pull up her panties and jeans. She grabbed her sweater off the floor to cover her breasts as she stepped over to the desk and picked up the phone.

“Wolfram’s Motorcycles . . . Uh-huh. Yes, I see.” She covered the mouthpiece, turning to Cain, who looked fiercely annoyed with her. “Are you gettin’ any new Harleys in stock?”

He shook his head, swiping at his bottom lip with his thumb, then sucking it into his mouth as he stared at her.