“What’s going on?” I ask curiously.
“I would feel like a piece of shit if you passed out in the middle of us having sex. That would definitely be a black mark in the risk column. So how about we test your blood sugar?”
That’s simultaneously one of the sweetest but also one of the least sexy things that have been said during foreplay. I curl my fingers into my hands so I don’t have to take the test. “And if it’s too low?”
“Then we get you something to eat if you need it and we sleep.”
“And we forget this ever happened?” I’m starting to get angry.
He cocks his head. I don’t know if he hears the slight bitterness in my tone. “I hope not.” He strokes a hand from my shoulder down over my breast to stop just at the edge of my waistband. My whole body tightens and leans into the caress. “I want one night with you. One full night. If that’s all you’ll give me.”
The unspoken request for more hangs between us. I don’t know what I can give him, so I let him take the BG measurement.
“How often do you have to do this?” he asks as I prick my finger and press it against the test strip. I still sit in his lap, straddling him. My hand brushes against his T-shirt-covered chest as I work. The muscles jump and bunch in a gratifying way at my accidental touch. There’s something intoxicating about how he responds to me. How easily turned on he is by everything about me.
“Ten to twelve times.”
“A week?”
I give him a withering look. “A day.”
He swipes the back of his hand across his mouth. “Christ.”
“Yeah, so don’t tell me about things that dominate your life. I know all about it.”
“I suppose you do.”
We wait until the measurement flashes on the screen. It says 84.
“Is that good?” he asks.
“Yes. It should be between 70 and 99 unless I’ve eaten and then under 140.”
I reach past him and place the kit back on the desk. “Anything else you want to test?”
His fingers slide into my waistband, under my panties. “Yes.” His eyes darken and it’s clear he’s not referring to my BG level anymore. “But don’t worry. I’m going to do all the work.”
“You will, huh?”
“Yeah.” He surges to his feet and in two steps drops my ass on the bed. He strips down so fast. His shirt flies off his head and his jeans and underwear fall to the floor in no time. He stands before me like the “small g” god that he jokingly called himself.
His body is perfectly formed, a testament to a careful diet and nonstop workouts. He has hair on his chest, a light dusting over his pectorals and a darker trail that leads right down to his penis. He leans forward, his shaft hanging heavy between us, and plants a hand on either side of my waist.
“I can’t wait to get my mouth on you and test out how good you taste.”
He lifts me with one hand and somehow drags down my jeans with the other until I’m wearing nothing but my camisole around my waist and a pair of damp lavender lace panties.
“I can’t wait to feel you and test out how wet you are.”
“Matthew,” I warn.
“What? Does the dirty talk embarrass you?” He slips a finger between my legs. “I told you I like to talk during sex. Besides, even if you’re turning redder than the Oklahoma uniforms, it turns you on. I’m going to suck on your clit here.” He rubs my clit, and I can’t deny the flood of excitement that washes through me. “And then tongue-fuck your sweet * until you come all over my face.”
I grow wetter and redder with each word. “Matt, shut up.”
He laughs and strokes me again over my panties. “You know this is the Aussie kiss. Because I’m doing you down under.”
“Shut up!” I repeat with a half groan, half laugh.
“I don’t know if I can. Maybe you have some idea about what I can do with my mouth.” His tone is light but his gaze is hot and hungry. Another finger presses against my aching core, then those two fingers sweep my panties away to touch my bare skin.
But the touch is maddeningly light. He looks at me, waiting.
I give in because I want this so bad. “You should get on your knees and put your mouth on my…*.” I push the word past my lips.
His eyes light up in mischief. “Yes, ma’am.”
He does just as I ordered. He falls to his knees and pulls the rest of my clothes off. And as he did with my breasts, he takes his time.
First he looks, telling me how gorgeous I am. Then he traces the rough pad of his finger over every peak and valley. I think I should be embarrassed at how exposed I am, but he doesn’t allow it. I can hear the obvious pleasure and delight he takes in just looking at me, and when he finally does place his lips and tongue against me, it’s as if he’s never done anything so marvelous in his life. It’s crazy how good this feels.