Page 21 of Ironside
“I’m sorry, I didn’t know…”
Ironside took my hand, kissing the inside of my wrist. Skimming his lips up my arm. His beard tickled—a gloriously sharp contrast to the soft heat of his lips.
“Don’t apologize, petal. Just go back to undressing me like you were before.”
My face flamed. Ironside chuckled and kissed my burning cheek. He hooked an arm around my waist with a growl.
“Fuck, I love it when you blush.”
I sputtered, both flustered and pleased at his praise.
“You’re teasing. I look like a tomato.”
He cupped my jawline and angled my head to the side, dragging the hot, wet flat of his tongue over my pulse. My nipples tightened and an ache throbbed to life between my thighs.
“Good. Then I know exactly what turns you on and I can chase that gorgeous red blush over every inch of you.”
I swayed into him, fighting to catch my breath at that image in my head.
Ironside smoothed his palm up my side, squeezing my breast. The wraparound dress I wore felt as thin as tissue paper with the weight and heat of his touch radiating straight through. It wouldn’t take much effort to tug at the little bow tied near my waist and peel my dress away.
My stomach clenched with the hope that he would.
I threaded my fingers into his hair, pulling him in for a kiss until our tongues were a tangled mess and my mouth floodedwith the taste of him—sharp black coffee, smokey cigars, and the burnt caramel sweetness of bourbon.
Gripping my hips, Ironside guided me back against the table. He hoisted me up and set me on the edge without even a grunt of effort. Then he pushed between my thighs, the roughness of his jeans rasping my sensitive skin. The hem of my dress rode up higher until I was barely covered at all.
“I thought we were having lunch,” I said, hooking two fingers into his belt with a tug.
“We are.” Ironside placed his hands on the table, bracketing my hips as he leaned in, kissing his way down my neck. The tip of his tongue flicked out, tracing the V-neckline of my dress. “But we’re starting with dessert first.”
Just as I hoped, Ironside plucked the tie at my waist loose until my dress fell open, revealing my bra and panties. Thank God I’d spent so much time picking something cute this morning—a lacy forget-me-not blue bra and purple panties the color of early spring violets.
My heart pounded and my blood roared in my ears. This was only the second time in my life that a man had seen me naked—or nearly there.
After enduring so much bullying in school for the way I looked, for my height, I spent years in therapy, learning how to view myself in a better light.
Letting someone see me—all of me—was still nerve racking though. The rolls of my stomach and the love handles at my hips. The cellulite on my thighs. The stretch marks on my breasts from my growth spurt in puberty. It was hard to place my vulnerability in someone else’s hands, praying that they wouldn’t scoff at it.
For so many years, I had been a target of mockery for boys who pointed out every flaw and magnified it ten-fold.
You’re with a real man now, petal. Let me prove it to you.
“Holy shit, look at you, sweetheart,” Ironside rasped. He ghosted his hands up my thighs, over my hips, touching everywhere as if he couldn’t get enough. “Blushing and beautiful and all mine.”
I didn’t realize I’d been holding my breath until I inhaled sharply with relief. My whole body felt like I’d been filled with molten sunshine, glowing and radiant and loved.
When Ironside trailed kisses down between my breasts, I arched into him, welcoming him, opening every part of myself to him. He tugged the cup of my bra down, flicking his tongue over my nipple.
He licked and sucked and pinched with his teeth, skilfully taking me through a roller-coaster of delicious pleasure and sweet pain. When he pulled back with a wet pop, I whimpered at the loss of his mouth.
Then he blew a gust of air over my nipple, so sensitive after his attention.
“Oh,God,” I exhaled, throwing my head back, locking my fingers in his hair with desperation.
Ironside gave a low laugh. And the throb between my thighs became an ache of torture.
He moved to my other breast, administering the same treatment until I squirmed with a needy whine.
