Page 97 of One Wrong Step
There’s a question in his eyes, but I’m not sure what it is. He licks his lips. “Even your…hole?”
I suck in a breath. Holy hell. “Do you like that idea?”
“Can I see?”
My cock instantly grows hard at the thought. I get on my knees, lean down on the bed, spreading my legs apart, almost like a frog. I could get on my back, but this feels more vulnerable. And I like that for some reason. I like the idea of exposing myself to Jonah.
I lift my ass, and his hands squeeze it again before he pulls my cheeks apart.
“I want to see every part of you. Want to taste every part of you.”
I groan. “Then stop talking about it and do it.”
He slaps my ass. God, yes, more of that. But then he’s licking my hole. Teasing the rim with the tip of his tongue, pressing in slightly.
“Jonah, I haven’t—you know, I didn’t think— Oh fuck.” He’s back to licking and biting the sensitive skin around my hole.
“I can’t wait to feast on this ass. I want to fuck you with my tongue. My fingers. My cock until you’re begging me to let you come.” He presses his thumb against my hole and pushes in slightly. Just the thought of Jonah shoving every body part he can into my needy hole has me coming with a shout.
And then I take care of him, showing my appreciation until he’s yelling my name. Sorry, neighbors.
“You’re catching on fast, doll,” I say, snuggling against him.
He kisses me sweetly. “I have an amazing teacher. Patient. sexy. And a surprisingly bossy bottom.”
We eat breakfast in the hotel dining room. Well, I have coffee and fruit. But Jonah makes up for it. His plate is piled high with a little of everything and tons of bacon. This man can eat.
“How’d your interview go?” he asks between bites.
“I think it went well. But everything depends on the talent show.”
He stops with his fork almost to his mouth. “Why? I thought the job was about fashion or hairdressing or something.”
“Sort of. I’d be a fashion consultant, so it’s about all those things.” This place has the best coffee, so I sip it slowly, savoring it. And that brings back memories of our morning in bed. Jonah torturing me.
Jonah is dressed in cargo shorts and a light-blue linen shirt that matches his eyes and shows off his biceps. I definitely approve.
“Let me guess. This is what you’re wearing for the talent show.”
He glances down at his clothes. “Should I change?”
“Nope. It’s close to what I would have chosen for you.”
He narrows his eyes. “Only close?”
I’d unbutton the shirt to show off his sexy body. This is Pride. But baby steps. And no sense in unnecessarily overheating the crowd. “It’s perfect.”
He smiles, and it’s warm and sweet like the butter-syrup combo coating his pancakes. “You’re so good at this lying thing.”
Is that meant to be a compliment? “Thanks, babe. Turns out being completely honest when styling someone is not the way to go, according to Frankie.”
“Then this job is perfect for you.” His gaze drops to his plate. And I suspect he’s not thinking about the bacon. Not this time. “Viv, if you get this job?—”
“Nope.” I force a smile. “Let’s not talk about that.”
“Hey,” he says, wiping his hands and then tipping my chin. “You deserve this job. Your talent is wasted at Cassandra’s. I want you to live your dream.”
“So, you won’t stop me?”
