Bring the Heat Margot Radcliffe (classic romance novels TXT) 📖

a finger between his toes. Her face was on a level with his straining cock so that every time she breathed it drifted over the taut skin, and it was totally on purpose as she busied herself with other areas. Her fingers found the fleshy pads of his toes, some calloused, some still soft, followed the length of narrow bones that made up a pair of masculine feet, large and wide and tan, up to his ankles. She pressed in behind his knee just to see what he’d do. He looked down at her with a wry expression, a corner of his mouth quirked. “You sure are taking your time down there.”

Shrugging, she tilted her head back so she could meet his eyes. “I figured that we have literally nothing but time on this boat—why not be completely thorough?”

“That’s for damn sure,” he told her, ripping off his watch and throwing it carelessly onto the side table. She’d already scoped it as a Patek Philippe that cost more than her first car, so it meant something that he didn’t care much about it at this moment.

“I never took you for symbolic gestures,” she said, dropping a kiss on his kneecap, the hair fuzzy and strangely intimate against her lips.

“You didn’t?” he asked, both eyebrows raised in surprise. “I called this boat Chance as in second chance, for my life and for possibly us, Molly. I’d say I’m pretty big on them. When I make the effort to make a point, I’m damn well going to make it.”

She brushed slowly across the back of his thigh and he twitched. Smiling, she kissed the other knee, rubbing a thumb over the place she’d touched with her lips. “I stand corrected,” she admitted, and gladly. Ignoring the second-chance-for-them remark because she knew it was just words. Oliver was so good at talking, at being amiable and telling people what they wanted to hear. It wasn’t meant to be deceitful, but he wasn’t promising her something. He was just talking. He’d given his boat a double meaning and that was the end of it. She wasn’t going to read further into it.

With a glance at the hard length she was skipping in her journey up his leg, Molly traveled instead to kneel behind him. A curveball he hadn’t anticipated that had him cursing. “Fuck, Molly, I wish you really were standing right now because I don’t know how much more of this I can take.”

“I think you have to take all of it, Oliver,” she commanded playfully as she set her hands to both tight sides of his ass. The carved cutouts in the side where her pinkies rested were hollow and firm just like the rest of him. She caressed downward, hoping for some measure of plump fleshiness, but was to find no such thing. He was hard all over.

Dropping a kiss in one of those muscled hollows, she murmured, “You could at least acknowledge it when I kiss your ass.”

She felt more than saw him shake his head. “You’re treading on thin ice, Molly,” he warned.

He grunted when she drew a finger down the seam of his ass. She wasn’t going to breach it but she loved knowing she might have that power, loved knowing that Oliver was the type of person to put the power in her hands because he didn’t feel it diminished his. She kept going up, squeezing the bottom of his cheeks as she stood, her nails digging in because touching him like this, watching his body subtly react to her, was addictive and she was drunk on his desire for her. After so many years of phoning it in during sex she felt reborn, a woman who could please and be pleased.

She ran her hands over the sides of his rib cage, over the winged span of his back, the muscles beneath the golden skin jumping and tensing with each pass of her palms, fingers and lips. Then she brought her hands up to tangle in the back of his hair, his head dipping forward as he shivered. Fingernails teased his scalp and she felt an answering tingle in her body. Tall herself, she stood only five or so inches shorter than him, and kissing his shoulder, she reached a hand around his torso to grip his length, the wetness that leaked out coating her palm as she slid it downward and up again.

His breathing was audible as he stood stock-still as she stroked like she’d watched him do earlier on the deck.

“Is this good?” she asked, knowing the mechanics were solid but seeking any special requests.

“You’re back there because the angle is better?”

She nodded; she wanted to deliver maximum pleasure, and why do things the hard way when this was the most mechanically sound way to get a job like this done?

He laughed and thrust into her hand. “Well, come on, then, you’ve literally got me by the balls, so show me what you’ve got.”

“Technically—”

“Molly,” he growled, placing his hand over hers on his cock.

“Fine.” She relented on pointing out that she was not holding his balls as such. “But hands off, this is my show.” He immediately lifted his hands and she saw them fist at his sides. “Good boy,” she laughed.

He grunted in response, his head shaking. So she granted him relief, slowly stroking over his length, pressing soft kisses randomly over his back as she worked him. The rough arousal she’d felt earlier on the deck hit her hard as she heard him exhale, saw his knuckles turn white as she squeezed and played.

“Is this good?” she asked, truly curious.

“Sublime perfection,” he gritted.

“Are you sure there’s not a certain technique you’d like me to try, no preferred way that you do this?”

“I like it any way, Molly, but if you’re asking me what I do to get myself off quickly, yeah, there are some pointers I could share.”

She waited for him to expound, but he didn’t, just thrust forward in her hand with