Jodi Redford - That Voodoo You Do

Shaking off the fanciful thought, she chuckled. “Remember when I got stuck in the doggy door at my parents’ house? Man, that was embarrassing. Teach me to misplace the keys.”

Dead silence greeted her observation. She glanced up and caught Griff staring at her mouth. Unmistakable desire simmered in his chocolate-brown eyes. A dizzying rush of excitement flooded her bloodstream. It’s now or never. Go bold or go home . She leaned forward and his hand clenched beneath hers. Heart thumping, she stroked toward the crook of his elbow, her fingernails feathering over the dusting of sun-kissed hairs that sprinkled his forearm.

A deep rumble came from Griff’s chest, almost resembling a purr. Encouraged by the sound, she inched closer and pressed her mouth against his. His shaky exhalation sailed across her lips, but he didn’t draw away. Taking that as a good sign, she increased the pressure a smidgeon, refusing to rush the moment. A first kiss should be savored…explored in infinitesimally delicious increments. They had all night to get around to the scorching, I-want-to-eat-you-up, tongue-wrestling part of the festivities.

She played the tip of her tongue against Griff’s lips. They were firm yet soft, splendidly kissable. Uttering a deep, hungry groan that seemed to emanate all the way from his toes, he hauled her off the stool and dragged her onto his lap. Her crotch bumped the massive erection tenting the fly of his jeans. Shock ricocheted through her. Good Lord, she’d been missing out on that all these years?

Okay, screw taking things slow . She rubbed along the delicious length of Griff’s shaft, undulating her hips in a rhythm that’d do a stripper proud. He rewarded her with a husky, tortured moan. A millisecond later his mouth crashed over hers and she automatically parted her lips. Taking her up on the invite, his tongue dipped inside, hot and seeking.

He kissed her like a death-row inmate scarfing down his last meal. Insistent fingers sifted through her hair, tilting her head, granting deeper access for his questing tongue. She returned its parrying thrust and earned another of those sexy purrs of his. The sound shimmered across her nerve endings, creating a decadent spiral of heat that coalesced into a tight, sweet ache between her thighs. She whimpered. Griff immediately jerked his head back, harsh breaths sawing from his lungs. Regret didn’t quite dampen the passion swirling in his darkened pupils.

“Christ, Jemma, I’m sorry.” His voice as unsteady as his hands, he clamped onto her hips and started to put her back on the barstool…away from that delicious erection.

Oh hell no . Hooking her legs around the rear of Griff’s stool, she wedged herself tight against his lap and slid her mouth along his bristly jaw. His drawn-out moan rushed past her ear, ruffling her hair. She reached his neck and nuzzled her nose into his warm skin, his yummilicious musky scent making her giddy. God, he smelled good enough to eat. Putting her theory to work, she nibbled the taut tendon that ran along the side of his neck.

“We shouldn’t be doing this.” His words came out in a desperate, agonized croak.

Cupping his face, she skimmed her lips over his in soft entreaty. She’d known he’d be reluctant to risk their ten-year friendship by getting physical. Good thing she wasn’t averse to bringing out the big guns. Scooting back, she unfastened the eyelets on the corset and tossed the garment aside.

Griff stared at her naked breasts, his expression a strange mix of misery and lust. “Jemma…”

“Touch me. Please. I need this. I need you .”

He gulped—hard—and loosened his grip on her hips. After a brief hesitation, his fingers quested upward and grazed her navel. Her belly quivered. His hands ghosted along her rib cage, taking forever to reach the under swells of her breasts. He traced their soft curvature with slow reverence, his thumbs coming to rest on her nipples. The barely there touch made her clit throb with a greedy ache. God, she needed his hands and mouth on every part of her. Now. “Griff—”

His hooded, sexy gaze lifted. He looked like a man on the edge. Like a man who was a breath away from ripping the rest of her clothes off and fucking her senseless. She wished he’d damn well get on with it.

“Jemma, I’m going to suck on your nipples until you’re begging me to make you come. So think you can be quiet for the next two seconds?”

Well, when he put it that way…

Kneading the weight of her breasts in both hands, he leaned down and flicked her nipple with his tongue, the wet friction causing her spine to arch. His teeth scraped her flesh, not painfully, just enough to create a pleasurable sting.

“You have sensitive nipples.” He didn’t phrase it as a question. Apparently her gasping moans were answer enough for him. He divided his attention between both breasts until their tips were rosy and swollen, glistening with his saliva. “Is your clit as sensitive?” The inquiry made her squirm in his lap. Griff lifted his head from her breasts, his expression carnal. “How about if we find out?”

“Oh yes,” she said, breathless with anticipation. She started to wiggle down from the stool, but he hiked her onto the island counter instead. While she slipped off her high heels, Griff wrestled with the button on her jeans and rasped the zipper down. Pushing her hips forward, she granted him easier access to shimmy the tight denim free of her legs. Her skin met the chilled surface of the granite and she shivered.

“Sorry, baby. We should be doing this in the warm comfort of my bed, but I don’t have the willpower to wait that long to taste you.” Growling, he hooked his thumbs into the elastic of her bikini and dragged the scrap of scarlet silk down. He brushed the insides of her thighs, the touch soft and teasing. Sweet Jesus, she couldn’t wait to have his mouth on her pussy.

The intense look in his eyes hinting that he shared a similar sentiment, Griff spread her legs and settled between them, the stool affording him the perfect height and angle. He tugged her toward the edge of the counter and draped her thighs over his wide shoulders. Inhaling with an appreciative groan, he lowered his mouth to her pussy and licked along the length of her dripping slit before swirling over her hardened clit. A sharp and sweet melody of sensations rocketed through her and her hips bucked. Sliding his palms beneath her buttocks, he held her steady against his busy tongue.

“Griff…oh God .” She clamped onto his bobbing head, holding on for dear life. The silky ends of his hair tickled her fingers, providing a marked contrast to the rough abrasion of his whiskered jaw. As for his tongue. Holy hell, it should be considered a weapon of mass destruction.

A part of her couldn’t believe they were finally doing this, that the man going down on her and detonating fireworks in her body was Griff. But it felt right. Perfect. He lifted his head and speared her with a smoky look, his mouth and chin glossy with her juices. “Let yourself go, Jem. Come for me.”

“Trust me, keep up what you’re doing and that’ll be a certainty.” Panting, she slid her thighs along his collarbone.

“Baby, that was just the appetizer.” He eased a finger inside her before suckling her clit between his teeth. Holding the tormented nub hostage to the agile voraciousness of his tongue, he steadily worked her into a shrieking, quivering mess. He let up right when she was teetering on the brink. She gave an outraged wail and he grinned. Bastard. Slipping two fingers along the rim of her labia, he spread her juices around before easing both digits inside her pussy. Her inner walls hugged the welcome intruders as they advanced inward.

“Almost…there.” Satisfaction rumbled deep in Griff’s chest as his seeking fingers zeroed in on her G spot. His mouth returned to her clit. Feather-light swirls of his tongue accompanied the firmer, insistent pressure of those wicked fingers. “You taste wonderful, baby. So. Fucking. Good.” Griff’s purr-like hum reverberated through her flesh.