Free Playing with Fire by Tamara Morgan

swept into his mouth. She wrapped one arm around his back, the other hand moving through his hair, forcing him so close she could have climbed him. Which she intended to do, actually.
    Starting right now.
    He chuckled against her mouth and pulled away. She might have been mortified if not for the self-satisfied grin he cast jauntily down at her. “Eight years, you say?”
    “Just kiss me again, dammit.”
    He did.
    Fiona lost herself in the sensations of human contact. It was almost too much, like going directly from starvation to an all-you-can-eat buffet. His hands were everywhere—first in her hair, then on her face, then trailing down her body at such a slow pace she actually grabbed his palm and forced it to cup her breast. Satisfied and more than willing to show him, she arched her back and purred, almost coming on the spot when he gave her nipple a little tweak.
    “Do that again,” she moaned. “Harder. Do anything you want. As hard as you want.”
    Without giving him a chance to make good on that offer, she reached down and grabbed his cock. He was ready for her, long and hard and like cool metal in her hand. She stroked the length of him. Never had she been more grateful to be near a penis in her life.
    She would show him her gratitude. She would show him what he had missed all those years ago. Surely she hadn’t lost her skills. Wasn’t giving a blowjob like riding a bike? Hell, she’d once been the Tour de France champion.
    And it was Ian. His dick in her hand. She could touch him for as long as she wanted, toy with his balls as long as she wanted. Sink to her knees in front of him, cup each taut cheek, draw him closer…
    …and fall flat on her face. “What the—”
    Ian’s hand came down and pulled her up from the carpet, which was starting to grow warm under her body. “Oh, God. I’m so sorry.”
    Her head spun, and it wasn’t from the fall. “Did I burn you? I thought we were safe. I thought—”
    He frowned. Standing before her, erect in more ways than one, completely bare ass naked and glorious from head to toe, he frowned.
    “I think maybe we’re moving too fast. I didn’t mean to make you fall. It was just—you know. You. Down there. Are you okay? Did I hurt you?”
    Fiona stood and placed her hands on her hips, letting her naked body do the talking. It had always been an effective communicator in the past.
    “No, I’m not okay. And no, you didn’t hurt me. But I will hurt you if you don’t man up and have your wicked way with me right this second.”
    He turned around and pulled his boxer briefs back on. Fiona stuck out her lower lip as the black fabric covered his pert, perfect little ass.
    “Are you fucking kidding me?”
    He glanced over his shoulder, an odd expression on his face. It was self-satisfaction and desire and…regret? She wanted to bite it off his face and then shove her tongue so far down his throat he couldn’t escape.
    Dammit. She should have gone for the duct tape.
    “You’re seriously going to turn me down? I’m naked, Ian, and I’ve never wanted a cock inside me so much in my whole life. I will rock your world. Over and over and over again.”
    “Will you please put your clothes back on?” His frown deepened, even as his crotch continued bulging. This wasn’t over yet.
    Fiona ran her hands over her body, taking special care as she trailed her fingers across the front of her breasts, down her stomach, dipping slowly between her legs. “Why don’t you come over here and make me?” she cooed.
    Ian laughed and groaned at the same time. “I mean it, Fiona. I think we need to talk about this first. You don’t have to—”
    “I can talk naked. In fact, I prefer it.”
    He reached for his jeans and t-shirt, pulling them both on with so much haste the shirt was backwards. She bit the inside of her cheek hard, the salty tang of metallic blood filling her mouth.
    Motherfucking chivalry. If this was really ending like this, right now, with the biggest pair