With each breath, she gasped, making soft little noises in the back of her throat. He liked that—he liked that a lot, but he continued to kiss her, not rushing a thing. Instead of the deep, searing kisses, he changed tactics on her. With one last lick into her mouth, he started nibbling at her lips, tasting the plump softness, appreciating the way that she responded to his kisses. And he slowly, slowly pulled her forward with each kiss, until he hauled her into his lap and forced her to straddle him.
He expected her to stiffen again, but she didn’t—she eagerly straddled him and her h*ps rocked against his, her hands going to his neck as she began to kiss him back with eager intensity. And when he pressed another light kiss to her mouth, she made a noise of frustration and took the initiative, moving away from the soft kisses and back to a deep, searing one, her tongue seeking out his.
Fuck yes. He pressed down on her hips, letting her feel the hard length of him against her, and was rewarded with a low moan in her throat. “Feel that? I’ve been walking around hard all day, thinking about you and your sweet little mouth, that long hair, your tight p**sy. I can’t wait to taste you.”
She stiffened against him, and he felt the uncertainty wash over her. Damn. Back to square one.
He gave her another deep kiss, but he could tell she was pulling back again. The only way he was going to get her over this ridiculous fear was to show her she had nothing to be afraid of. “Miranda,” he whispered, leaning in to kiss her mouth lightly again. “I’m going to show you that you can come as often as you want to. Just because you dated a bunch of fools in the past with sausages for fingers doesn’t mean that you’re the problem. Understand?”
She shook her head, and that sexy fall of dark hair brushed over her shoulders. “What if it was a fluke?” she whispered. “What if we try tonight and we can’t make it happen?”
She sounded so brokenhearted at the thought that his chest ached. In that instant, he decided that he was going to make her come if it killed him, just to prove to her that she wasn’t the problem. And if it took until dawn, then he was going to enjoy every last minute of it. “You’re focusing on the wrong things,” he told her, using every ounce of willpower he had not to thrust up against her hips. Tonight was going to be about her, not him. “It’s not about how fast you can come. It’s about how much you enjoy yourself until you do. Understand me?”
She gave a small snort in the darkness. “I’m not stupid, Dane. I know what sex is about.”
“Of course you do. And that’s why you’re going to let me show you how to enjoy yourself, aren’t you?” He grinned at her and rocked forward, tipping them both onto the crinkling blanket until Miranda was pinned beneath him and he lay on top of her.
Her eyes widened as his weight settled over her and she stared up at him. “You don’t have to worry about me. I’m going to enjoy myself.”
Dane grinned down at her. “Good. Now, can I take your top off?”
She hesitated a moment, then nodded. When he reached for the hem of her shirt, she wiggled and helped him pull it off. Her bra was another lacy confection, this one so sheer that he could see her dusky n**ples in the moonlight through the fabric. He leaned down and brushed his mouth over one, feeling the fabric abrade against the sensitive peak.
Miranda’s breath sucked in and her hands went to his shoulders, her body tensing slightly under him. She’d liked that.
Just that small reaction made him feel like the f**king king of the world.
“Tonight you’re going to let me take control, Miranda. I’m going to decide what you like, and I’m going to take that and use it to pleasure you, understand?”
She rolled her eyes at him and attempted to get up, but he took her arm and pinned it above her head, his grip gentle but firm. “Understand?” he said softly. “This is about letting me have control over you. About me giving you pleasure.”
Her body trembled under his, and her h*ps flexed in an automatic gesture of need. She widened her eyes, staring up at him, and slowly nodded. “All yours,” she said. “For tonight.”
“Very good,” he murmured, and slid a hand over her shoulders, feeling the warmth of her creamy skin, enjoying the way the moonlight played over her body. He could feel her heart pounding under his hand, and he glanced up at her face. She had the same melting, soft expression in her eyes that he’d recognized from before—the one where she was lost in desire. Good, that was exactly what he wanted to see from her.
His fingers hooked to the front of the pretty bra. There was a tiny bow at the front, and he tugged at the fabric beneath it. “You’ve got another one of these, right?”
A frown creased her brow. “Why?”
He’d take that as a yes. Dane snagged his finger under the fabric and ripped it straight down the center. The flimsy fabric split in half, exposing her br**sts to the moonlight. “Because it’s in my way.”
“You Neanderthal,” she said, but a laugh bubbled up in her throat and she halfheartedly tried to slap his hand away.
He kept her other arm pinned and just grinned at her, his hand moving quickly to cup one of the br**sts. It was perfectly rounded, and he felt the hard little nipple scrape against his palm as he touched her.
Her laugh died in her throat, her eyes widening just a little at the caress, her expression going soft.
Dane cupped her breast, feeling the weight of it against his palm, and put his other hand on her opposite breast, watching her reaction. She didn’t move, her arm still above her head as if he yet pinned it. Her cheeks were flushed with desire and her breathing had sped up slightly. That was good. That was very good.
He brushed a thumb across one nipple, finding it hard and peaked. Her breath sucked in at the small touch, so he repeated it, rubbing the tip back and forth with his thumb. She arched underneath him, her lips parting, her eyes closing in ecstasy. He continued to rub at the nipple with one hand, enjoying the small whimpers that poured forth from her, and bent over the other peak. He brushed his lips against it, then nibbled at the tip.
It hardened underneath his lips and he lapped at it, then he swirled his tongue while she moaned in response. Her back arched under him, pressing her br**sts harder against his hands, and he felt her h*ps give a tiny instinctive buck.
How had Miranda thought she was unresponsive in bed? How had her boyfriends of the past not been able to wring orgasms from her? Were they idiots who hadn’t cared if she came or not? Or had they always let her have control of the situation, never realizing that what she truly craved was to be the one out of control? The one off guard? He’d discovered that when she was thinking, she worried. His goal had been to stop that thinking, and all it had taken was kisses on the soft skin and attention to her br**sts. And her responses were delicious—already she writhed under him, needing more.
And damn if it wasn’t making him as hard as a rock. His c*ck was thick and heavy in his shorts, straining against his clothing, but he ignored it. He wanted to bring her to where she needed to be before he even thought about himself. And right now, she needed him touching her.
He pressed another kiss on the tip of her nipple, enjoying the way her skin prickled in a thousand tiny goose bumps in reaction. So responsive. He bit lightly at the pale flesh, then kissed the nip away, replacing his mouth with his hand and cupping her breast once more, his thumbs grazing the n**ples to keep her fevered. And as he touched her, he lowered his mouth to the cleft between her br**sts, kissing the soft skin there.
Her response was a small sigh of pleasure, her fingers tightening in his shirt. She liked to be kissed. He decided in that moment that Miranda Hill needed a lot more kissing. He pressed a kiss lower, on her ribs and belly, then another, and another, enjoying the silky feeling of her skin. Her body was perfect in the moonlight, softly rounded but sleek, all curves and delicate skin.
He nibbled at her stomach, enjoying the flutter of her laughter.
“That tickles,” she whispered.
“Good.” He kissed her sweet belly because he could, and because he liked tickling her. His thumbs brushed over her n**ples again, and he felt her chuckle turn into a rasping inhalation of pleasure. He could sit here and play with her gorgeous br**sts for hours, he mused to himself, moving back to her br**sts and replacing one hand with his mouth again. The nipple looked sadly neglected and he leaned in to bite at it.
She jumped and shivered again.
“Such pretty skin,” he told her, plumping both br**sts together so he could switch back and forth between the n**ples. Even as he ran his tongue over one tip, she faltered underneath him, and he noticed her hands sliding off of his shirt. When he bit her nipple again, she gasped, but it wasn’t the sexy, excited little gasp that she’d given before.
Miranda was thinking again. What on earth was she thinking about?
He lifted his head and moved forward to press a kiss to her mouth. “Miranda?”
She gave him a hesitant smile, but said nothing.
His hands moved over her br**sts and he pinched both n**ples at once, causing her body to jolt. The blurry, dazed look returned to her eyes, and then quickly faded again.
“What are you thinking, Mir?”
She bit her lip—fuck, that did amazing things to his c*ck when she did that—and then glanced away.
He pinched both her n**ples again, harder—and she yelped.
“Miranda,” he said in a husky voice. “Don’t make me bite you into a confession.”
She shivered at that, but he couldn’t tell if it was a good shiver or a bad one.
“I was just…I’m enjoying myself,” she said after a moment. “Really.”
But what? He watched her face, then watched her expression as his thumbs gently brushed over the tips. That flutter of excitement passed over her face again, then quickly disappeared, followed by the faintest line between her eyebrows, as if she were concentrating very hard and somehow failing. Did she think she needed to come already? Because hell, they were just getting started.
He slid back down over her, pressing kisses to her neck and collarbone before returning to her br**sts. Damn, he liked her br**sts. He plumped one breast in his hand and then licked the nipple like he would an ice cream. “So,” he said casually. “I knew a girl once who could get off on nipple play.”
Her expression became bewildered, then flustered. Her hands pushed at him. “Why are you telling me this right now, you creep?”
Dane pinned her arm over her head again, his face leaning in close to hers. Her arm over her head left her breast high and arching, and he reached out to casually play with the nipple, toying with the tip, enjoying the goose bumps his touch left behind on her skin. “I said that I knew one girl, Miranda. One. She was one of the locker room bunnies that would show up and hope to bang a player. My buddies passed her around for a while. She’d show up at every home game, looking to score, and she’d come over the smallest touch. And she came a lot. She was noisy as hell, too. She really liked having her br**sts touched, and she’d come as soon as someone touched her there.”