Free Bittersweet Chocolate by Emily Wade-Reid Page B

thing. They moved along the hall and into the guest bedroom, not bothering to close the door.
    Graham leaned against the doorjamb. With her body silhouetted against the soft glow of a nightlight, and his gaze riveted on her every move, she stripped. Turning her back to him, hands skimming over her curves, the provocative sway of her body kept pace with the rhythm of the music. She’d left the stereo on.
    Her nimble fingers unfastened all but two hook-and-eye closures on her bustier. The material slid to her waist as she turned to face him. She unhooked the last fasteners and let the garment drop to the floor. For several seconds she stared into warm hazel eyes before he looked away, his gaze moving down to her exposed flesh, lingering a moment before following the progression of her hands to the waistband of her dungarees. Releasing the snap, she eased the zipper down, shimmied out of her jeans, and stepped back. She stood before him in nothing but panties.
    He moved forward and took charge. Grabbing her hands, fingers intertwined, he pressed their hands to her sides. “Let me,” he whispered, smooth lips brushing against her ear, moving along her jaw until he reached her mouth.
    The gentle swipe of his tongue, her mouth opened on a sigh, but he didn’t move in. His tongue only teased the tip of her tongue. Nerves vibrating with pulsating pleasure, the simplicity of the act was a new in-depth experience. Teeth capturing the tip of her tongue, bit by bit, he drew it into his mouth, probing, savoring.
    He released her hands, hooked his thumbs inside the waistband of her panties, inching them down her thighs. Synchronized with the progression of his hands, he kissed and licked a trail down over her throat to her breasts, pausing for several seconds of exploration before moving on. Tongue blazing a trail across her abs, his hands worked her panties lower. By the time he knelt in front of her, the harsh sound of her breathing escaped in ragged bursts.
    Hands, surprisingly soft and gentle, glided up her legs to her hips, cupping and caressing her ass. He held her steady while she stepped out of the underwear puddled at her feet. She started to back away, but he stopped her. Urging her forward, he buried his face in her pubes, inhaling her scent.
    She weaved her fingers through the coiled softness of his afro, grip tightening, she squirmed beneath the gentle stroke of his tongue, probing, delving deep. She tried to pull him away, but he wouldn’t budge, pushing her down on the bed instead, his mouth continuing to work its magic.
    “Gray, please.” Hell. Please what―stop, continue, more?
    Her contradictory actions were no criteria to go by with her raising her hips to move closer to gratification, then tugging his head away from the toe-curling pleasure. Not that her conflicting reactions mattered, because he never paused, his grip unyielding. She climaxed and went limp.
    Graham stood, removed something from his pocket, and started discarding his clothes.
    Feeling lethargic, she stretched, repositioned herself on the bed, and turned to watch him undress. A predatory look passed between them before she glanced away, her gaze traveling down over defined pecs sparsely covered with hair, taut abs, and curly shorthairs—eyes widening, she sat up.
    Clearly anticipating her reaction, he reached her side before she could get off the bed. “I know what you’re thinking,” he said.
    “Uh-uh.” She experienced discomfort with Joel, who was average. “I don’t think so.”
    “Shh.” He put his fingers to her lips. “Baby, it’ll be all right. I promise.”
    Settling beside her, if he meant to ease her doubts, he went about it the wrong way, grasping her hands, urging her to become familiar with his size. The feel of silky-smooth heat covering a rock-hard erection as he folded her hands around a minimum of nine circumcised inches, hell. Who was she kidding, she wanted him.
    “Honey, are you ready?”
    She didn’t utter a