Free ON EDGE (Decorah Security) by Rebecca York

should be.
    He pressed his hand against the mattress to keep from pulling up the spread and hiding the deformity.
    “You are beautiful,” she murmured.
    “How can you say that?”
    “Easily.”
    She knelt beside him, kissing him lightly on the mouth, then sliding her lips to his jawline, his shoulder, his chest, nibbling her lips through the crinkly hair there, then touching her tongue to one of his flat nipples.
    He wanted to relax and enjoy what she was doing, but he couldn’t quite manage it.
    “This could get a little tricky,” he muttered.
    She raised her head. “Not if I straddle you.”
    “How do you know about that?”
    “There are many pictures. Have you seen the illustrations on the walls at Pompeii? Or the stone carvings at Khajuraho in India?”
    He swallowed hard. “No.”
    “But you probably saw the movie Basic Instinct .”
    He laughed. “Did you?”
    “I watched it to learn. And others of your moving pictures, like that Coming Home one. Some of them are quite . . . graphic. But the ancient Romans and the Hindus are just as informative. Only the illustrations don’t move.” She shook her head. “The Greeks aren’t as good a source of instruction for a woman. They were too interested in men with men.”
    She bent her head again, moving down his body, making his stomach muscles quiver as she probed his navel with her tongue.
    She looked lower, seeing the tent his erection had made of the loincloth. Her hands went to the waistband, tugging it open, freeing him from the fabric so that his erection stood up from his body.
    “Tell me if I do something wrong.”
    He made a strangled sound as she took his cock in her hand, holding it while she licked her tongue up one side, then the other.
    She moved to the very tip, delicately licking away a drop of moisture, then licking around the head before stroking her tongue down the shaft and up again. And then she took him into her mouth, sucking strongly, wringing a strangled cry from his lips, a cry he could barely hear above the pounding of the blood in his ears..
    She raised her head and looked at him with concern. “Am I doing it wrong?”
    “Lord, no. It’s too good. I don’t want to come in your mouth.”
    “Why not? I want to please you.”
    “Only if I please you too. Come here.”
    He held out his arm, and she lay down beside him.
    “I want this to be as good for you as it is for me.”
    He brought his mouth to hers, tasting her again, deeply, roughly, then more gently.
    She caught her breath as his fingertips caressed her curves, then grazed across her hardened nipples.
    Bending, he took one into his mouth, sucking on her while he plucked at its mate with his thumb and finger, wringing a little cry from her.
    Leaning over her, he stroked his hand down her body, into the intimate flesh between her legs, caressing her, dipping his finger into her, then gliding upward to her clit and down again
    Her breath came in little gasps as he brought her up to the high plain where he already waited. As he did, he played with her nipples, tugging and twisting at them, watching the pleasure change the contours of her face.
    “Now,” she gasped, levering herself over him again, grasping his shaft and bring her hips down, burying him inside her.
    They were both struggling for breath as she began to move over him, slowly at first, watching his face as she made the rhythm harder and faster.
    All his concentration focused on the heat and the friction, and the giving and taking of pleasure. He felt her losing control, felt her driving for completion, and he allowed himself to follow her.
    He cried out with his release, as his body pumped and vibrated with climax.
    When he came back to himself, he saw her looking down at him, satisfaction flickering on her lips.
    He smiled up at her. “Thank you for that.”
    “Thank you.”
    She moved off him and pulled the spread over them. Snuggling against him, she nuzzled her mouth against his cheek and neck.
    “I never