Page 116 of Sins of Innocence

They're so hard and tight, it's as if he's already been playing with them.

I want that. His hands. His mouth. Body on fire, need burning in my veins like lava, I crave his body pressed against mine, with his sex stretching my pussy.

I’m so turned on every pore in my body is exuding pheromones.

Kieran's taste is straight-up lady Viagra. A moan of need tears out of me only to be caught by his lips and tongue and fed back to me.

Kieran lays me on the bed, his big warrior's body coming down to blanket me, his mouth never breaking from mine.

My legs spread, inviting him to settle between them.

But he rears back, tearing his lips from mine and his hands cup my calves under the crinolines of my skirt, hot and sure. "You're ready?"

This time it is a question and I know exactly what he's asking. Am I ready for sex with my husband?

"Yes, Kieran." My voice is raw with truth. "I want you."

His jaw clenches, his eyes making hot promises. "I've been fantasizing about eating your pussy under those layers of gauzy fabric all day."

"At the park?" I gasp.

He nods.

"All day?" I push. "Even on the rides?" I tease, but part of me isn't teasing.

To be desired that much, to know no matter what we were doing, Kieran's thoughts were on me fills a hollow place inside I never knew was there.

"Your skirt and this stuff…" He fingers the layers of red netting gathered and attached to a red silk slip to create the perfect 1950s skirt silhouette without scratching my legs. "Kept catching the air, like it was going to fly up but it never did."

"I made sure it didn't." I had to tuck most of the skirt under me on the rides, but it was a lot easier to maintain modesty than I expected it to be.

"You were teasing me," he growls.

I shake my head. "Not on purpose."

"You wore the dress." Sensual accusation laces his tone as his callused palms slide up and over my knees.

Restless from the desire that small touch elicits, I try to shift.

His hold on me tightens. "Don't move."

Oh, lord. I go still, anticipation and need thrumming through me with a pulse I can feel in my core.

Why does him saying that in that deep-as-sin tone make me soak my panties even more?

As Kieran's hands move inch by slow inch up my thighs, my crinolines and dress gather on his forearms. He's getting so close to where I need his touch most, but he draws it out, sliding back and moving forward in a sensual Cha-Cha.

Only just when his hands should move forward, he stops again.

I protest, "Kieran!"

"I said we'd use the cuffs, didn't I?" He slides his hands all the way down my legs to my feet before grasping my high heels and pulling them off.

He wants to use the cuffs now? "But I still have my dress on."

And if my hands are cuffed together, it's staying on. Darn it. That is not what I want.

"Trust me, baby girl."