Page 77 of American Royalty

He blinked. Had he heard her properly?

He hadn’t voiced the question out loud, but she must’ve read his expression because she said, “I know. I know. But if I don’t do it now, I’ll get itchy and I won’t be able to enjoy this. Damn, Jay, I never expected you to throw it down on me!”

He laughed, torn between relief that she still wanted him and incredulity at finding himself in this situation.

Skin moisturizer. Right.

“Where is it?”

She pointed at the vanity, where he saw several brightly colored bottles and jars. “The blue one.”

He grabbed a large jar labeled “Mela-Skin Body Custard” and brought it over to her.

She held out her hand. “I’ll be quick.”

“I don’t want that word associated with anything we’re doing.” He wanted to savor this experience. It would be the only one they had. “May I?”

One corner of her mouth curved upward. “Okay.”

Twisting the lid, he dabbed a small amount of the rich cream on his palm.

She giggled. “Don’t be afraid of it. You’ll need a little more than that.”

He scooped out a dollop. “Is that better?”

“Much,” she said, her low tone deliciously husky. “This bodes well for us, Jay. You take direction nicely.”

He rubbed the lotion between his hands. “Where do you start?”

“My arms.”

He started at her shoulder and smoothed the cream into her skin. Her breath hitched in her throat, but otherwise she didn’t make a sound. Her skin was velvety soft; he could spend hours touching her. He held her wrist in one hand and stroked his other one over her upper arm, her elbow, and her forearm. Then he repeated the ministrations on her other limb.

“Next?” he forced out of a mouth gone dry.

“My body,” she said thickly.

God grant him strength!

Replenishing his supply from the jar, he turned to face her and drew in a shuddering breath. Reclined against the bench, one foot braced on the cushion, her hair a poufy cloud of curls, her naked skin dewy and flushed, she was an irresistible temptation.

He pressed his hands against her breasts.

“Fuck me!” he groaned as the hardened peaks scraped his palms.

Her lashes fluttered and her head fell back. He stared at the long, graceful column of her neck, then swallowed and massaged the custard into her chest, taking his time and savoring the weight of her breasts, the silkiness of her skin, the way she arched into his touch. He slid hands shaking with need down her belly, making sure he didn’t ignore the sides of her torso.

He cleared his throat. “I guess that leaves your legs.”

She slid to the edge of the bench and put her feet flat on the floor. “It does.”

He dropped to his haunches before her and, gripping her knees, spread her thighs wide.

It was his turn to lick his lips as he took in the sight of her bare pussy and he couldn’t resist leaning forward and pressing a kiss to the glistening folds.

Straightening, he dipped his fingers into the jar and spread a dab of lotion on each thigh, shin, and instep. Then he rubbed it in, thoroughly but quickly, certain it wouldn’t take much more before he came in his pants.

“Are you good?” he panted, holding on to his control with a willpower he hadn’t known he possessed.