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Ignite (Cloverleigh Farms #6)(47)

Author:Melanie Harlow

“Dex?”

I realized she’d asked me something, and I looked at her quickly. “Sorry, what?”

“God, I’ve been talking too much. I probably just bored you to pieces.”

“Not at all,” I told her. “I just got distracted for a minute.”

She glanced at the bottle in my hands. “What were you thinking about?”

The words came out before I could stop them. “Something I want to do but can’t.”

“Can’t?”

“Shouldn’t.”

A moment passed in complete silence, and I thought I’d gone too far. She stood up.

But instead of walking back to her place like I thought she might, she blew out the candle and stood in front of me. Then she reached for the bottle and set it at my feet.

I looked up at her. Without saying anything, she climbed onto my lap, one knee on either side of my thighs. I held my breath and gripped the arms of the chair.

She placed her palms on my chest. Locked eyes with me. “Something like this?”

My voice was nowhere to be found.

She leaned over and pressed her lips to the side of my neck. “Or like this?”

My cock was surging to life beneath her.

She moved one hand down to my crotch and rubbed the bulge in my jeans as her mouth swept up to my ear. “Or maybe like this?” she whispered.

My fingers curled around the edges of the plastic chair arms. “You should stop.”

“Why?”

“It’s dangerous to play with fire. And with firefighters.”

She laughed softly, switching her mouth to my other ear, nipping my earlobe with her teeth. “But it might be fun.”

I groaned as my cock continued to swell under her hand, my strength depleting with every stroke.

She kissed my cheekbone, my temple, my jaw. “Do you want me to stop?” she asked, her breath soft on my skin.

“What I want isn’t the point.”

“Then let’s focus on what I want.” She reached for the button on my jeans and I grabbed her wrist.

“Don’t.”

“Why not?”

“Because you’re too fucking beautiful to resist and too damn young for me to touch.”

“Dex.” She took my hand and brought it to her breast. “I want you to touch me.”

Beneath the thin material of her dress, her nipple was temptingly hard. I teased it with my thumb and she sucked in her breath.

With my other hand I cradled the back of her neck and pulled her mouth to mine. I slid my fingers into her hair and clenched my fist, making her gasp.

I let go of her breast and locked my arm around her waist like a thick iron chain. “This is what it’s like to be with me,” I warned her, my lips hot against hers. “I’m not gentle.”

“I don’t care,” she panted. “I want this.”

Without another word, I put my hands beneath her and stood up, taking her with me. She locked her legs around my waist and I moved quickly for the door.

Inside, I was too impatient to take her upstairs to my bedroom, so I lowered myself onto the couch. She straddled my legs again, and this time I put my hands under her dress, sliding them up her thighs and gripping her ass.

She put her hands in my hair and her tongue in my mouth and rocked her hips over mine, grinding against me. Inside a minute, she was attempting to lift my shirt over my head and I took my hands off her just long enough to whip it off and toss it aside.

“Oh, God,” she murmured, running her hands over my bare chest. “You feel exactly like I thought you would.”

“Hairy?” I pushed her dress up her thighs.

She laughed and reached between my legs. “Hard.”

This time when she undid my pants, I didn’t stop her. When she slipped her hand inside and freed my cock, I didn’t stop her. When she wrapped her fingers around me and stroked me from root to tip, I didn’t stop her.

And she didn’t stop me from easing my hand inside the edge of her underwear. Or softly rubbing my fingertips over her clit. Or slipping one finger inside her as deeply as I could. She was warm and wet, and when she began to move over my hand, my patience ran out completely. I had to get inside her.

Yanking my hand from her underwear, I grabbed her by the waist and set her down beside me on the couch. “Don’t move.”

Racing up the stairs to my bedroom, I prayed to God I still had a condom somewhere, and that it wouldn’t take me all night to find it. I panicked when a frantic rummaging through my nightstand drawer turned up nothing, but luckily, I found a stray one in the second place I looked—my bathroom travel bag. Snatching it up, I bolted back down the stairs three at a time.

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