Free Hair of the Dog by Kelli Scott Page B

crushing her
self-consciousness into dust. While his one hand held her steadfast against his
firm warmth, the other explored Ivy’s butt, hopefully mapping her curves for a
return trip in the future. A future in which she’d be naked. Him too.
    His tongue broke through her lips with little resistance. I
surrender . She went all soft and pliable in his hands. Grant, on the other
hand, felt rigid against her pelvic bone. Almost as if they shared one really
horny brain, he lifted her and she locked her legs around his waist so he could
carry her the short distance to the bed. Thank heaven for single-story houses
and the people who love ’em, or make love in ’em. They toppled together onto
the mattress, testing the squeaky springs.
    His lips trailed down Ivy’s neck, making a path to her
breasts. Her best feature, if she did say so herself. She only brought them out
for special occasions, usually keeping them corralled in a minimizing bra and
loose clothes.
    “Oh my God,” she groaned. “Is that a telephone pole in your
pocket, or are just incredibly happy to see me?”
    He chuckled playfully and her spine tingled with longing.
His hands got busy stroking and kneading her flesh while his tongue plundered
her mouth. When he took a break from that, Grant said, “I do know I’m very
happy to see you. But I really want to see you naked.”
    It wasn’t something she heard often. Some guys in her past
had wanted to see her go away. She rolled him over onto his back with force and
straddled his lap. Who am I? Ivy quickly unbuttoned her blouse, starting
at the top, while Grant grappled to yank her shirttails from the waistband of
her slacks. All the while, she moved her pussy against his erection in some
seductive dance of need she hoped would deliver relief from her desire, but
only made her ache for more.
    “How do you feel?” he asked.
    Huh? “I feel like impaling myself on your penis over
and over again until one or both of us needs hospitalization. How do you think
I feel?” She flung her blouse across the room.
    His hands grasped her breasts, squeezing gently,
appreciatively. “Not dizzy? No shortness of breath?” Near as she could tell, he
spoke directly to her breasts.
    “Oooooh yeah.” Ivy dragged her center slowly along his erection
and he groaned. “I’m hot. I’m panting. My heart is racing, but I’m not going to
black out, I assure you.” Ivy had never felt so grounded in her life. This was
right where she needed to be. She helped him peel his shirt away so she could
get Grant one step closer to where he needed to be. Inside her.
    Her hands caressed his incredibly solid chest. Ivy finger
combed the hair that carpeted his sternum. She scooted down a few inches and
tugged on the fly of his button-fly jeans. They parted, revealing the waistband
of his BVDs. God, he looked like an underwear model.
    Grant ran a single finger between the cup of her bra and her
cleavage, teasing her unmercifully, a rakish grin on his dreamy face. His
finger pad found her nipple, plucking the tip into a hard peak. Pulling the
lacy fabric aside, he leaned toward her. She arched down to meet him halfway as
if they were of a single mind. Grant swirled his tongue in tight little circles
around the hard tip of her nipple. She moaned, feeling the pleasure tugging like
a cord connected her nipple to her pussy. Ivy clutched the back of his head,
holding him to her.
    The phone next to her bed rang, shrill and unwanted, next to
them. Since she knew few people in town and even fewer knew her number, coupled
with the reality that she didn’t give a damn who it was or what they wanted,
Ivy ignored the piercing annoyance into her orgasm-in-the-making.
    “You going to get that?” he asked between soulful kisses.
    Bolting upright, breaking their connection, she asked, “Are
you into this or do you have somewhere else to be?” She wouldn’t let a tornado
stop her but it seemed like he’d let a telemarketer come between them.
Apparently