Lauren Dane - Broken Open

“That was unexpected. But I like it.” He bent his head to press his lips to the left curve of her cleavage before he popped the back open and got rid of the bra. “I like this even more.”

He took her breasts in his hands and she sucked in a breath, her hands braced on his shoulders as she arched her back.

“Can’t lie—I like that, too,” she gasped out as he tugged on her nipples.

He needed more. More access. More everything.

He half stood, bringing her with him and spun, dropping her on her back on her bed before settling between her thighs.

That’s when he finally noticed the dragonfly tattooed on her belly, just beneath and between her breasts. An art nouveau design with an Alphonse Mucha flair in delicate, simple lines.

“Beautiful.” He licked over it and up the bottom swell of her left breast. Her fingers slid into his hair, holding him in place.

He delighted in her responses. The way her skin, nearly bronze in the low light, pebbled up as he licked over it. The sounds she made would never let him misunderstand what she liked and expected. A soft, ragged moan of pleasure, an impatient huff, a pleading sigh. She tugged a little harder than necessary when he did something she didn’t like and arched into him when he hit a good spot.

There was something so fearless and fierce about her, about the way she liked what she liked and demanded it. It was a sort of full-tilt sensual experience, but it was real and raw and made him hot all over. It fed that gnawing hunger that drove him so hard he was dizzy with it.

Everything about her pressed against him in the best sort of way. The air smelled of her, of that unique warm, spicy floral scent she wore. Of her sex. Of her skin. He came to attention when he realized he’d be leaving his scent all over her things. Yes, he liked that a lot.

Her body spread out on her bed excited his senses as he took her in. She was tall. Powerful. He loved all the juxtaposition she came with. Athletic but not so much she didn’t still have the swell at her hips, the curves and feminine abundance that made his mouth water. She might dress up and wear heels, but her hands were those of a woman who used them to work.

He’d seen the jewelry she made and the work she’d framed. Tuesday was a woman who loved creating beautiful things and he could totally relate. She was bold and strong and vibrant even as she was also cool and elegant and soft.

Confident in a way most of the women he’d been with in the past couldn’t get near. And yet vulnerable. The whole of her was everything he craved and worried about at the same time.

She’d taken off her little tortoiseshell glasses and left them on the table so now he could see the smattering of freckles on her cheeks and just how long her lashes really were.

He’d seriously never seen anything like her hair. It was magnificent, an inky dark mass of gorgeous curls. It looked even better spread out around her head as she lay in bed.

Her eyes slowly opened at she stared up at him. There was no sense of urgency. This was playing out how it should, which made him a little nervous, but it wasn’t outweighed by the need racing through him to have her.

He hissed as she slid her hand up inside his shirt, over the skin of his back, her fingertips digging into the muscle, urging.

She tipped her neck as he kissed down it and then down her body until he backed off the bed enough to stand. “I need that dress off. I want to see all of you.”

Quickly, she was up and on her knees, her dress whipped off and tossed to a nearby chair, remaining in nothing more than a whisper-thin pair of panties in that same sheer material as the bra.

He was so fortunate.

Ezra tipped his chin at her. “All.”

She shimmied from her underpants and continued to kneel there, facing him, utterly and gloriously naked.

He took a long look at her. “Beauty, you slay me.”

He yanked his shirt off and she sighed happily.

“You should take your shirt off onstage. Or maybe not.” She frowned briefly. “But in front of me you should whenever you like. Or whenever I like. Whichever.”

His hands moved to the buttons on his jeans and her gaze never left them. All in all, when he finally—carefully—got out of them and his boxers it was really clear how much he enjoyed her gaze on him.

And that nearly painful erection nearly lost all its vigor when a thought occurred to him. “Please tell me you have condoms.”

She froze. “Shit. Hang on.” She scrambled from the bed and headed into her bathroom but shortly returned with some little packets he recognized as his brand. “I do. Should I give you one for your wallet?” She winked.

Laughing, he grabbed her as she walked by and sent them both to the mattress.

“I wasn’t going out looking to get laid.”

She reached between them, wrapping her fist around him and giving his cock a few slow thrusts and sending his thoughts into disarray. “Yeah? Seems to me, Ezra, that you and I have been headed right here since the first time I met you.”

Damn, when she was so bold and demanding it sent a wave of desire through him, hot and fast like a wildfire. He wanted inside her and right that very moment.

Instead, he forced himself to slow down and enjoy.

“Yes. That much is true.” But he hadn’t known for sure that she’d be there and maybe he’d been a little nervous and all his attention had been on the show. He’d forgotten until that moment. He wasn’t good at the hey, I might get laid later better take a rubber game anymore. “But I wasn’t going to take anything as a given anyway.”

He took her mouth again, starting off sweet, playful even. But within a minute or two things had deepened and he was so hard that even if he had got in her right then he’d have come too soon.

That wasn’t on his to-do list.

He eased down her body, licking the place where thigh met torso. She made a deep sound, a sort of gasp and moan all at once.

He loved that she’d left the lights on so he could look his fill. He spread her open and did just that. She didn’t try to close her legs against him or shy away. Instead she watched him look at her, pleased.

He took a lick and the sound she made in response was a lot like what he did when he tasted something delicious. He understood it because he wanted to make that same sound at the salty sweet of her on his tongue.

He built her climax slowly, tasting her, getting his fill of her. When she rolled her hips, urging him and he wasn’t ready just yet, he pressed her hips to the mattress and her body responded just as loudly as her moan.

Oh hell yes. She liked it as much as he did.

He wasn’t going to rush along when it came to the first orgasm he ever gave her, after all. Ezra wanted her to have his touch burned into her brain, wanted to make her come so hard he pushed every other memory of every other man away.

Deep down he could be petty and admit it was daunting to think about competing with the memory of a dead man. Ezra wanted Tuesday thinking about him .

Her body seduced him as he touched and kissed, nibbled and licked. All he felt, tasted and heard was her. Even the breath he gulped in was laced with her scent.

Something about her drove him to please, to preen and show off, and when he finally knew she was ready, he kept his pace relentless, pushing her hard and fast as he slid two fingers deep.

With a hoarse cry, she arched, and the hands that’d been on his shoulders shifted, her nails digging in, urging him on. He kept going, gentling little by little until he finally pressed a kiss to her belly and moved back up her body.

“Now that the edge has been taken off, I have a few more things to show you.”