Sweet Spot. Kimberly Kaye TerryЧитать онлайн книгу.
willingly accepted, she showed him her vulnerability.
And he would use that same vulnerability against her.
He would do whatever it took to get her to open up to him and tell him everything.
If he played his cards right, played her right…it wouldn’t take long.
His gaze ran over her smooth brown back, past the indentation of her waist, past rounded hips and the plump cheeks of her apple-shaped buttocks. He followed the visual journey back, until he reached her face, silhouetted, half in shadow from the moon’s glow.
Her face was flushed and her eyes were closed; a small smile lifted the corner of her generous mouth as she lay facing him.
Her wild, mussed hair fanned the pillow she lay on. The content look on her face, coupled with the relaxed way she lay spread on the bed, presented a picture of a woman completely satisfied, completely at odds with how she looked down at the bar, where her nervousness and anger were easy to discern.
No…it shouldn’t take him very long at all to get inside her mind, to push past her defenses.
His cock twitched in response to the erotic picture she presented.
Despite his intent to leave her alone, knowing she was exhausted and sore, he placed his hand at the small of her back and ran it over the swell of each rounded butt cheek, before his hand worked its way between her thighs. Her wetness saturated his finger.
She released a quiet moan when he cupped her warm mound and two fingers sliced into her seam, opening her to his probing fingers. Another glided over the stickiness of her residual cream nestled inside the lips of her pussy.
When she winced as he fingered her, he jerked his head up, glancing at her face. “Sore?”
She opened drowsy eyes to look at him. “Yeah, somewhat,” she said and uttered a small, sexy laugh before allowing her eyes to drift closed, again.
“Don’t move. Stay just like that,” he said and she murmured an assent. “I’ll be right back.”
With one last lingering caress against her mons, he moved away from her and off the bed. Demetri walked to the kitchen and opened several overhead cabinets until he found what he was looking for and removed the small container of Epsom salts and a bowl.
He filled the bowl with warm water and poured in a generous amount of the salts, twirling it with his fingers to help it dissolve.
On his way to the bathroom, he glanced over at the bed, where she lay quietly in the same position in which he’d left her. He smiled.
Turning, he went into the bathroom, retrieved a wash towel, and returned to the bed.
Placing the basin on the bedside table, he wrung the water from the small towel and sat down on the edge of the bed.
She lay with one hand under her cheek, the other hugging one of the pillows near her. Demetri felt the corners of his mouth lift at the picture she presented of decadent innocence.
After wringing the water from the towel, he folded it around one hand. With the other hand, he spread her legs farther apart.
“What are you—”
“Sssh, it’s okay. I’m just washing you.”
She moaned when he began to run the towel over her body in slow swirls, starting at the S curve in the small of her back and working his way down and over each of her rounded butt cheeks.
When he got to the plump underside of one, he trailed his towel-covered hand beneath the crease and moved to her mound, separating the soft lips of her pussy, lightly seaming her crease. He moved the towel away, down her legs, around the bend of her knee, and dipped the towel back into the water.
With her eyes closed, she jerked when she felt the warm, wet towel, touch her again, stroking down her back following the line of her spine. Gaby smiled and turned her face to the side, one arm hugging the pillow closer.
She breathed in his distinct, masculine scent from the pillow, knowing that both the scent and the man were firmly entrenched in her body. She’d probably always associate this unique scent with the man who’d made her feel more alive in the last few hours than she’d felt in a long time.
Gabby felt a ping of shame because she’d made love—scratch that—she’d had sex with a man she didn’t know from a can of paint. Not only that, but she’d done so while still in a relationship with another.
Even though the man she was involved with obviously had no qualms about sleeping with someone else.
All guilt flew out the window when she remembered the woman’s frantic moans and cries of passion and Adam’s face, strained and flushed as he held on to the woman’s hips while driving into her from behind.
“Do you like this?” the murmured question brought Gaby back to where she was, thoughts of Adam evaporating as strong hands stroked and smoothed over her body.
“Hmm. Yes, I do,” she whispered as his hand, wrapped in the warm towel, ran over the rounded cheeks of her buttocks.
“Open your legs for me.” When she obliged, he ran the towel along her inner leg, starting at her knees and working up to her thighs, before cupping her mound.
Gaby squirmed around the towel, wincing when his fingers connected with her labia.
“Sore?” he asked, and she nodded.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be so rough with you,” he murmured and she heard him dip the towel into the basin of water. He lifted her lower body slightly and touched the throbbing lips of her vagina.
Her breath caught. She closed her eyes and swallowed. Although his touch made her stinging lips ache, it was an ache that felt good, sinfully good.
“Turn over for me,” he said and obligingly she turned so that she lay open to him.
“Use your fingers to spread your vagina,” Demetri instructed he, and felt his cock stir at the image she presented, splayed out in front of him. He read the instant of hesitation in her eyes and waited.
Her small hands reached down on either side of her mound and opened the lips of her vagina for him.
He offered her a small lift of his lips in satisfaction at her hesitant, yet obedient, compliance.
“You have the sweetest pussy I’ve ever seen.”
He wiped between her lips with the towel and a small trickle of warm water ran between the dark plum-colored inner lips of her vagina.
“I’ve never had anyone do this to me before,” she admitted in a low voice.
He glanced up at her, a question in his eyes. “Not even your man?”
“What do you mean?”
“Your man never does this for you?”
At the question, she bit her lip, worrying it between her teeth. “Wha-what man? Who says I have one?” she stammered out the question. She pushed against him when he pinched the tip of her clit between two towel-wrapped fingers. The sting, he knew, hadn’t really hurt.
But it had gotten her attention.
“Don’t lie to me.”
He ran small circles around her clit with his fingers, massaging the tightening bud, easing the small hurt.
“The one you’ve been coming to the club with.”
He continued to clean her, not making eye contact with her, his attention on his task.
“I’ve seen the two of you around the Sweet Spot,” he said.
The fact that he’d noticed her before tonight gave her a thrill.
After long moments she spoke.
“I, well…” She stopped and took a deep breath. “I caught