Page 39 of The Hang Up
Her eyes widened as he lifted her to her feet. He shoved his chair back and spun her around, pinning her against the table. He kissed her hard, claiming that magical mouth with his as he kicked his shoes off and freed himself from his pants and underwear. Miriam had gone to work on his jacket and tie and shirt, though he barely realized it until he noticed she was shoving them off his shoulders and onto the ground behind him.
He pulled back, breaking the kiss. “Well, that’s not very fair, is it?”
“What’s that?”
“You’re still fully clothed. We owe it to medical science to remedy that.”
She gave a dramatic sigh, though he saw her eyes flicker with desire. “If we must,” she said.
He grabbed hold of the ties at the side of her dress and said a silent prayer his years of camping tours would pay off and he’d remember how to untie a knot under duress. He was under serious duress. If he didn’t get her dress off in five seconds, he’d be even more duressed. Or undressed? Holy hell, he was losing it, making up words and fumbling with knots like an eight-year-old Boy Scout.
“Thank God,” he breathed as the ties came loose and the dress slipped open to reveal the sexiest bra and panty set ever created. It was some sort of flimsy black lace, and the sight of it made him even more eager to devour her from head to toe.
“You’re fucking beautiful.” He grinned. “Sorry for cursing at the dinner table again.”
“I’ll let it slide this time.”
“Will you?” He trailed a hand down her abdomen and under the seam of her panties.
She gasped as he slid a finger inside her, finding her warm and wet and very, very ready.
“I want to taste you.” He didn’t wait for her reply as he caught her waist with his free hand, angling her body the opposite direction of the dinner plates. Then he lifted her onto the table, satisfied by the little gasp of surprise she gave as she let herself fall back.
His chair was still behind him, so he sat down hard and let his fingers slip beneath the lace of her panties. He shoved the fabric aside and shouldered her thighs apart, more eager to taste her than he had been with anything on his dinner plate.
The second he touched her with the tip of his tongue, her whole body arched clear off the table.
“Oh God!” she cried, and gripped the back of his head like she feared he might stop.
Jason had no intention of doing that.
He slid his tongue along her opening, getting more turned on by the way she writhed and gasped on the table. His tongue found the sensitive little bud he’d been seeking, and the instant he touched it she bucked again. He held tight, gripping her hips with both hands as he circled her with his tongue, feeling her grow tense beneath him.
“Jason. I’m going to?—”
“Do it,” he growled, taking one hand off her hip and sliding a finger inside her. He felt her clench around him, so tight, so wet, so close.
She screamed, a primal howl that left him grateful they were here at her little house instead of his duplex with the shared wall. He kept his hold on her hip, working her with his finger as she rocked against him and gripped the tablecloth in a fist, knocking over his empty water glass.
He didn’t let go until he felt her go lax. She lay breathing hard for a moment, then propped herself up on her elbows and grinned at him.
“Now there’s a hiccup cure someone should write up in a medical text.”
“Happy to be part of the scientific study.”
She pushed her hair off her face, flushed and lovely in the candlelight from the centerpiece. “I’m not hiccuping anymore.”
“You’re cured.”
“Seems that way,” she said, then glanced at the sideboard. “I really think we should continue the treatment.”
“You have something else in mind?”
“Maybe.” Again with the glance at the sideboard and a grin he was starting to really love.
“Are you planning something kinky with napkin rings?”
“No. But it’s possible I stashed a condom in there right before you showed up.”
