“Christmas is coming. You’ll just have to wait for it.” He took her hands and drew her down to sit beside him on the butter-soft leather couch. “I’m sure Santa has checked and double-checked his list by now. Have you been naughty or nice this year?”

“That depends. When I’m good, I’m very, very good. When I’m bad, I’m even better.”

Frannie walked her fingers up his thigh. Eyes locked on his face, she saw desire flame before he tamped it down.
His brows slammed together and he pursed his lips before he stilled her hand. His quiet voice was strained.

“Stop, Frannie. Slow’s hard sometimes, but I’m trying. Don’t make it harder for me, please.”

Frannie pulled the ridiculous hat from her head, fluffed her hair and slid to the floor between his widespread knees. Despite his earlier prediction, he was not wearing a polo but a warm sand-colored button-down shirt. Lips tilted in a sultry smile, she slid the first of those shirt buttons loose.

“Ya know what? This slow thing bites, and making things harder sounds pretty damn good right now.”

As a child, Jinx had learned in science class about magnets. A pencil threaded on two magnets, suspended above two more, would hang like magic, floating on an invisible force. If the pencil was just a millimeter off-kilter, it would crash down, yanked by the powerful pull of attraction.

Frannie just yanked his pencil.

Desire he had so carefully tried to bank crashed into him and exploded like a powder keg. The initial boom of all-consuming want wiped out his consciousness for a spilt second. Only the sensation of his shirt being pulled from the waistband of his pants penetrated the confused haze. Her hands slid up his bare chest.

“Frannie…” He didn’t recognize his own voice. It was deeper, huskier.

The flickering firelight sparkled in her whiskey eyes. She fixed him with a smoldering look. The tongue that had tempted him all night snuck out to lick at her painted lips and she smiled in a feline fashion. Elbows on his thighs, she leaned in close and purred.

“Last night we started something. I want to see where it leads. Make love with me, Jinx.”

Yeah, like I’m going to say no. My mama didn’t raise no fool.

One slim hand ran through his hair. She stood and drew his attention up. With a quick tug, the wraparound blouse fell open and slid down her arms. Creamy skin glowed in the firelight and the bit of satin slipped from her hand. Her small breasts, thrust up, cupped in ocean blue lace, beckoned for his touch.

Jinx’s breath quickened in anticipation. Thank you, God, there’s another one I owe you.

She stepped closer, her fingers skimming over his cheeks. Though she would deny it, he saw love in her eyes mixed with sexual yearning. A deep sense of satisfaction warmed his heart and need erupted through him. His hands reached for her waist, drawing her closer until she knelt on the couch between his legs. The urge to rush, to give into the gnawing hunger that flared was so great he steeled his muscles against it. This was a gift. The first time he made love to Frannie would be burnt into his soul. He would not rush through it. He would savor it, draw it out like a fine wine.

Lips the color of dewy roses rained kisses along his brow and down his face. The slight weight of her body pressed against him and she tugged the shirt from his shoulders. He pulled his arms free and reached for her. He caught her exploring lips in his and feasted on her succulent mouth. Kiss for greedy kiss, they gave and took, each matching the other’s stroke.

He forged a line of heat down her throat. The breathless whisper of his name pierced the air. Her flesh scorched his hands as he let them travel over her body. Faced with the swell of her cleavage, he toyed with the lace cups held firm by a tiny front clasp. The tips tightened under his hot breath and he tongued each one mercilessly. Each small mound swelled. Her body tempted him, a banquet table in front of a starving man. Some men loved large breasts. Jinx had always preferred small and firm. The old saying that more than a mouthful is a waste was true as far as he was concerned. He didn’t plan on wasting one mouthful of Frannie.

Hands buried deep in his hair, she pulled his head back and burned him with another soul-searing kiss. She was fire and he was a moth, drawn by instinct, by nature. He wanted her. He needed her. He loved her. Lips still dancing with hers, he fingered the clasp of her bra, waiting for her to stop him. No protest came and victory shot through him. One quick flick of his wrist and the lingerie went sailing, leaving her exposed to his touch. He took one pebbled crest in his mouth and wrenched a moan from her.

The low sound reverberated, calling to his ego like a drumbeat in the night. Passion sizzled in the room, crackling like a tinder spark. His skin tingled with sexual tension. Never letting his lips break contact with her skin, he caressed each breast. She smelled of jasmine and a heady aroma he couldn’t identify. It intoxicated his senses and blocked everything out of his mind except for her. His cock throbbed, his balls heavy, aching for release. It took more willpower not to lay her back and plunge inside her than he knew he possessed. She was a drug and he was an addict.

Chest heaving, she braced herself against his shoulders. Her feet touched the floor and she stood, pulling just out of his mouth’s reach. Not ready to let her go, he circled her hips with his arms and pressed his lips to her breastbone. Her ribcage was a map and his tongue found a route directly to her stomach. Nestled in her navel was a tiny gold star on a miniscule chain. A bellybutton ring? How did I miss this?

The jewelry was a plaything and his tongue swirled it, tickling the tender flesh around it. The slight roundness of her tummy was soft under his cheek, like a ripe peach in the summertime. He couldn’t resist nipping her, just for a taste.

Her slender hand found his jaw and she stepped away from his touch. Loss swept over him until he noted the twinkle in her eye. Light shimmered over the moist trail his mouth had made and her skin glistened. Small pert nipples shone like wet glitter. She caressed her breasts, cupping each one and rolling her thumb across the tip. Down her stomach to the concave navel with its gold adornment, she drew his attention back to the gentle swell of her belly with trailing fingers. Over and over she stroked her flesh, tempting him. Touch me, her body silently cried to him. Caress me, possess me, take me. She retraced her path back up to her neck, and his breath came in ragged bursts. She was a cock tease, and his control was rapidly slipping away.

Her fingers went to the side of her pants. The flames as a backdrop, she eased the hidden side zipper down slowly, teasingly. He waited and watched. With a shimmy and a twist, the fluttery black pants floated down to lie in a pool around her ankles. In barely there lace and ankle-strapped stilettos, she was a vampish vision. He struggled for air and his eyes caressed her long legs from pointed toe to curved hip. The miniscule bit of lace she called underwear hid exactly what he wanted and nothing more. It was too much and not enough at the same time.

She bent provocatively to one knee, her hand going to the ankle strap of her shoe.

“Don’t.” He was unaware he had spoken aloud until she looked at him with an arched brow. “Leave them on.”

Never before had shoes been any type of turn-on for him. But now, in this minute, on her, they were the sexiest thing he had ever seen. Surprise widened her eyes. Then she smiled. A secret smile, one which has driven men crazy for ages, the smile of a woman who has something brewing in her brain. With a sexy shrug, she left the buckle alone, but traced one hand up her leg, drawing his gaze up her body once more.

His stomach clenched as she cat-crawled to him, shoulders dipping dramatically with each movement. Her breasts, tucked into the shadows one minute, blazed in vivid color the next. At his feet, she sat back on those fuck-me shoes and touched his leg. His socks disappeared in the dark depths of the room. She ran her nails up his ankle, under his pants, tickling the coarse hairs of his legs. The sensation was too much. His body jerked as if touched with a hot poker. She pulled her hands back and skated her fingers up his thighs and reached for his zipper.

Blood rushed in his ears in a deafening cadence. His heart pounded hard enough to rattle his ribs. She branded his stomach with her tongue, and a sizzle danced on his skin. Her fingers found his zipper tab and he was there, yanking it downward. She laughed a siren’s laugh, deep and throaty but gripped the material under his knees. She pulled and he raised his hips and his pants joined her bra somewhere in the darkness.

“Boxers?” Her voice tinkled like bells in his ears. “Full of surprises tonight, aren’t you?”

He had no words to answer. Her hands on his tented boxers stole them from his throat. Feather light, her fingers barely touched him, but it was enough to make him pant. Dear God, give me strength. No, give me stamina.

She kept scarcely touching him, almost tracing his shape, never really using enough pressure to let him feel her fingers. He’d had a hard-on since last night and now it was almost painful in its intensity. Her nails were like a painter’s brush, outlining the basic form but without detail. She was driving him sexually insane. Inquisitive lips nibbled up his stomach, past his chest, over his collarbone. Her hair feathered through his fingers and he captured her lips with his own. He was near a breaking point already and she just kept pushing.

His hands stayed in her hair and she retraced her path down his chest. Each flat nipple got a tongue flick then she sank to his navel. And then lower. With those same light touches, she eased his swollen cock from his boxers. His spine straightened. She circled him with her hand and bathed him with her warm breath. And then he knew nothing but bliss.

The heated warmth of her mouth surrounded his tip and slid down his shaft. A shock of red-hot pleasure shot through him, electrifying every nerve ending in his body. Her tongue swirled around him like he was a lollipop, intensifying with each stroke. Seconds before he went mad with desire, she changed motions and took him deep in her throat. A groan split the air and he was only vaguely aware it came from his own lips. She swallowed and licked and nipped and stroked and he drowned in ecstasy.

The line of small bumps in her spine swayed in tune with her lips. The lines of elastic that pretended to be the back of her thong panties highlighted the smooth expanse of her ass. Marvin seemed to wink at him, as though knowing the otherworldly pleasure she was giving him.

She released his tip and caught him watching her. With exaggerated slowness, she drew her tongue across her pouting swollen lips then dropped to the tiny pearlized bead that sprang from him. Lapping like a cat at the slit, she smiled. He struggled to hold onto his control. Without warning, she engulfed him again and sank her lips to the base of his shaft.

Her mouth worked a calling rhythm and his hips longed to answer it, but he resisted. Not like this, not the first time. But when her hand cupped his tight balls and squeezed gently, he almost forgot that pledge.

“Frannie—stop.” She ignored his cracked whisper and drew her tongue down the underside of his cock, across the ridge of nerves. Lust exploded behind his eyelids like fireworks.
“Frannie, stop.”

Not giving her the chance to ignore him again, he pulled her up and crushed her mouth beneath his. The sofa forgotten, he eased them down onto the fleece blanket. One handed, he stripped off his boxers and covered her with his body. Skin met skin and sparks flew between them. He couldn’t get enough of her mouth and her hands seemed everyplace at once.

Tiny daggers raked down his back. Bathed in the golden hue of the fireplace, her skin glowed and he sought out every sensitive spot. He suckled her breast and she mewled and twisted beneath him. Licking her side made her jerk and tremble. He slid his lips across the delicate curve above her panty line and she went still and stopped breathing. Kissing the inside of her thigh made her quiver. Somewhere deep in his gut, a sense of awesome power filled him.

The lacy cobalt of her minuscule panties was darkened with her juices. He slid a finger beneath the trim. She was hot and slick. The buttery folds clenched at him and once more he had to tamp down the urge to just take her now. He pulled his mouth away but never took his fingers from her cleft. Her panting breath echoed in the room. The soft strains of Michael Bublé filled the air and he supposed the music would keep playing for hours. But all he could focus on was Frannie. My Frannie. All mine. Now.

One finger hooked in the ribbon at her hip, he tugged downward. The bit of lace clung fiercely for an instant then slipped from her long legs. They landed somewhere, he never knew where. All he could see was Frannie.

All of her. Every quivering, smooth, dewy inch. Frannie was bare. Completely and utterly bare. Soft and pink, her glistening folds captivated him. He looked at her in stunned silence. She never ceased to amaze him. A hard, dry swallow worked his throat before he could form any words. “My turn. I want to taste you.”

His mouth descended to her lush body but she drew him to her face with a finger beneath his chin. Dragging her fingertip across her beguiling lips, she asked, “Will you taste me here?”

Heavy eyed with lust, he nodded and took her lips in his. Her finger slid to the hollow of her collarbone, where his birthday gift twinkled against her skin. “Will you taste me here?”

He nodded and pressed his mouth into the curve of her throat, slicking his tongue along the heated silk.
She trailed the same finger down her chest to circle one rosy nipple. “Will you taste me here?”

“Yes,” he ground out. His lips surrounded the taunt tip, drawing it inside for a sucking nip.
In ravenous thrall, he watched the seductive finger slide downward to dip into her bellybutton.

“And here? Will you taste me here?”

“Yes.” The sound was more grunt than word. His tongue dove into her navel and swirled the star buried there.

Her hand moved to the glossy lips of her sex and slipped her fingers inside the smoothness. “Here? Will you taste me here?”

“Yes.” His teeth clenched against his raging hunger.

A carnal tilt to her lips, she raised her fingers. Glistening liquid coated the tips and captured his attention. She raised them toward his mouth, teasing him. The scent of feminine musk was thick, alluring and enthralling. His lips parted to taste the nectar she offered, but she pulled her hand away.

Those wet tips disappeared inside her own lips.

Oh God. He shuddered. The hottest wave of desire he had ever felt crashed down on him. She was wicked, wanton and his. He couldn’t wait one second more. Sliding down, he parted her knees.

To Be Continued in…
JINXED
from Samhain Publishing.

SUMMER READING TRAIL STEPS

Sweet and Non-Romantic – Voirey Linger – Her Little Boy
Sexy Romance – Barbara Romo – Undercover Alien
Erotic and Adult – J. Hali Steele – WITH EXTRA CREAM

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