thanks.”
“Now take it off.”
CHAPTER SIX
Patrick didn’t think Dana would actually comply with that request, but she did. In fact, she turned the tables on him so hard, he wasn’t sure which of them was the one leading the dance.
She locked that dark gaze on him and kept it there while she removed everything down to her bra and panties. She wasn’t going to give him instant gratification, though. She actually took the time to carefully arrange her pleated slacks over the back of the chair, and draped her sweater over them. Her trouser socks came off next, slowly, with her rolling them down from the tops and shimmying them off her small feet like some kind of 1950s bombshell posing for a pin-up.
And she could be a pin-up with those curves and that face.
She tried so hard to be austere— stern in appearance—but she was a woman who’d probably once been a really cute little girl, and still had traces of that cute. Sure, she was a beauty now, but it wasn’t a frigid beauty like women who stomped down runways had. It was soft. Sweet, even. He doubted she wanted to be told that, though.
“Do you need some help?” he asked. As much as he was enjoying the show, he wasn’t a man of limitless patience, especially not right then. It was like he’d been forced to fast for a day to have blood drawn and suddenly got pushed in front of a buffet he couldn’t touch. It hardly seemed fair.
She blinked. “Do you ?”
He hissed as her fingers dragged up the inside of his leg and traced a circle around his balls. She grabbed them.
He clamped a hand around her wrist, and wheezed, “I’m perfectly capable of undressing myself. Been doing so since I was two.”
She released her grasp and leaned back onto her elbows with a self-satisfied grin. “Good. Have at it, Paddy.”
With the way her push-up bra barely contained her full, round breasts, the only thing left to imagination up top was whether her areola would be chocolate- or coffee-colored. He guessed chocolate. Milk chocolate, and slightly sweet.
His gaze trailed down her taut belly to where her thighs joined. As far as underwear went, they didn’t cover very much. Why even bother with them? Women.
“Paddy?”
“Hmm?”
“Are you waiting on me to give you permission again?”
He dragged his tongue over his dry lips and planted his hands on her thighs. Just open them a wee bit, love. “Permission?”
“To take off your boxer briefs.”
Oh. Those. He eased them down, giving his cock some clearance as he worked the waistband past his crotch. Once on the floor, he shoved them away with his foot.
She didn’t move. Didn’t say anything. Just stared.
He scoffed and lifted one of her hands, turned it over, and placed a condom in her palm.
Her fingers wrapped around it, so she was at least subconsciously aware of its existence, but otherwise she remained frozen. Fixated.
Who’s the cat, here?
He cleared his throat.
Finally, she righted her gaze and stood. He was so close that as she came erect, her body grazed the front of his—her breasts, in particular, briefly meeting his erect cock.
Fuck.
She turned her back to him, and now it was the swells of her ass that made contact with his skin. They pillowed against the front of his thighs as she moved her hair from her neck.
He wanted to palm her cheeks, knead them, but that didn’t seem to be what she was asking.
“Why don’t you unhook my bra for me?” she said.
“Of course.” All it took was one flick of his finger, and it sprang open.
She worked the straps down her arms and he leaned in, pressing his lips to the hot, sweet crook of her neck and kissing out toward her shoulder. It was a nice view from there, what he could see of it. She’d tried crossing her arms over her naked chest, but he’d wrapped his fingers around her forearms and guided them down to her waist, holding them there while he kissed and took in the sight of her.
Milk chocolate peaks, already beaded and aroused that
“Now take it off.”
CHAPTER SIX
Patrick didn’t think Dana would actually comply with that request, but she did. In fact, she turned the tables on him so hard, he wasn’t sure which of them was the one leading the dance.
She locked that dark gaze on him and kept it there while she removed everything down to her bra and panties. She wasn’t going to give him instant gratification, though. She actually took the time to carefully arrange her pleated slacks over the back of the chair, and draped her sweater over them. Her trouser socks came off next, slowly, with her rolling them down from the tops and shimmying them off her small feet like some kind of 1950s bombshell posing for a pin-up.
And she could be a pin-up with those curves and that face.
She tried so hard to be austere— stern in appearance—but she was a woman who’d probably once been a really cute little girl, and still had traces of that cute. Sure, she was a beauty now, but it wasn’t a frigid beauty like women who stomped down runways had. It was soft. Sweet, even. He doubted she wanted to be told that, though.
“Do you need some help?” he asked. As much as he was enjoying the show, he wasn’t a man of limitless patience, especially not right then. It was like he’d been forced to fast for a day to have blood drawn and suddenly got pushed in front of a buffet he couldn’t touch. It hardly seemed fair.
She blinked. “Do you ?”
He hissed as her fingers dragged up the inside of his leg and traced a circle around his balls. She grabbed them.
He clamped a hand around her wrist, and wheezed, “I’m perfectly capable of undressing myself. Been doing so since I was two.”
She released her grasp and leaned back onto her elbows with a self-satisfied grin. “Good. Have at it, Paddy.”
With the way her push-up bra barely contained her full, round breasts, the only thing left to imagination up top was whether her areola would be chocolate- or coffee-colored. He guessed chocolate. Milk chocolate, and slightly sweet.
His gaze trailed down her taut belly to where her thighs joined. As far as underwear went, they didn’t cover very much. Why even bother with them? Women.
“Paddy?”
“Hmm?”
“Are you waiting on me to give you permission again?”
He dragged his tongue over his dry lips and planted his hands on her thighs. Just open them a wee bit, love. “Permission?”
“To take off your boxer briefs.”
Oh. Those. He eased them down, giving his cock some clearance as he worked the waistband past his crotch. Once on the floor, he shoved them away with his foot.
She didn’t move. Didn’t say anything. Just stared.
He scoffed and lifted one of her hands, turned it over, and placed a condom in her palm.
Her fingers wrapped around it, so she was at least subconsciously aware of its existence, but otherwise she remained frozen. Fixated.
Who’s the cat, here?
He cleared his throat.
Finally, she righted her gaze and stood. He was so close that as she came erect, her body grazed the front of his—her breasts, in particular, briefly meeting his erect cock.
Fuck.
She turned her back to him, and now it was the swells of her ass that made contact with his skin. They pillowed against the front of his thighs as she moved her hair from her neck.
He wanted to palm her cheeks, knead them, but that didn’t seem to be what she was asking.
“Why don’t you unhook my bra for me?” she said.
“Of course.” All it took was one flick of his finger, and it sprang open.
She worked the straps down her arms and he leaned in, pressing his lips to the hot, sweet crook of her neck and kissing out toward her shoulder. It was a nice view from there, what he could see of it. She’d tried crossing her arms over her naked chest, but he’d wrapped his fingers around her forearms and guided them down to her waist, holding them there while he kissed and took in the sight of her.
Milk chocolate peaks, already beaded and aroused that
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