Page 15 of Revenge Is a Dish Best Served… Wearing Heels?

His hand tightened in my hair, and he angled my face, the pressure of his lips on mine increasing with every breath, as he slowly deepened the kiss. Our tongues met, and a low groan escaped him, the sound zinging right between my legs.

The elevator came to a stop, and the doors slid open, surprising me. I'd forgotten I was even in an elevator.

Pulling away, he led me inside, only to push me against the wall a heartbeat later before I could even get a glimpse of a single thing in the dimly lit room. And his lips were on me again, this time devouring, hungry, kissing me like no one ever had before in my life.

How did a man I'd only met a few hours ago blast away every single person from my past in mere seconds? I had no freaking idea. But he did.

His hands gripped my shoulders, inching down the thin straps of my dress, his mouth moving from mine to lay heated kisses along my jaw and the column of my throat. I angled myneck back, giving him better access, the rough scrape of his five o'clock shadow sending shivers down my spine.

God, this was everything I'd dreamed of. And it was only the beginning.

My shoulder straps were whisked down, a grunt of satisfaction coming from mystery man as my breasts were revealed. I held my breath, watching his expression, waiting for his reaction.

There were stretch marks there. Would he notice? Would it bother him?

"You're fucking beautiful," he said, his voice low and gravelly.

I smiled, my breath coming out in a rush of relief as his mouth descended on my breasts, kissing every single inch, his palms cupping them, a gush of wetness between my legs as I became more turned on than I'd ever been in my life.

Gripping the back of his head—his hair was incredible—I relished every second of him feasting, him tonguing my nipple before sucking it into his mouth.

"Oh, God," I moaned, my head hitting the wall behind me.

His hands roamed to my waist, then gripped my hips as he lowered himself down to the floor. Wait, what was happening here?

On his knees in front of me, he buried his face in my body, my stomach to be precise. Holy crap. What on earth was he doing?

I looked down to see him inhale deeply—um, excuse me?—as his head went even lower, one hand moving from his death grip on my hip to swipe aside the swath of dress between my legs.

Damn, that slit had definitely come in handy.

With a shaky breath, I watched as he looked at the barely there g-string I'd worn tonight. It was pretty much indecent, a tiny patch of black lace covering me, the goal to be both sexy and functional just in case.

He made that noise I liked, a deeply masculine groan and growl that turned my insides to jello, before ripping them off me.

I gasped, shocked that he'd done that.

His answer was a wicked laugh, his eyes flashing up to meet mine. "I figured those were safe to rip apart."

Before I could respond, his gaze fell back to my pussy which was right there. Right smack in front of his face, where no man had been in a very long time. Unless you counted my doctor. Which I didn't.

Just as I'd done before, I found myself holding my breath in anticipation. What would he say? What would he do? Was he really going to do what I thought he might do?

He lifted one of my legs, deftly resting it against his arm, essentially spreading me. Again, right in front of his face. Likeright there.

"What a pretty fucking pussy," he said.

Oh. Oh my.

And then his mouth was on me, and my eyes rolled to the back of my head at how incredible it felt. My hands tried to grip the wall behind me with the force of his attention.

He kissed me everywhere, his stubble scraping me, intensifying every movement like an exclamation point. His lips, his tongue, explored me, leaving not even a millimeter untouched.

Unaware of what I was doing, I pushed my hips forward, needing more, craving more, trying to recall if a man had ever been this thorough before.

Well, that was an easy answer.

No.