Friendly Persuasion by Dawn Atkins Page A

panties. She wanted more. Touch me. Kiss me. Suck, squeeze, nibble, lick, anything, everything. Just do something. She lifted her body off the bed to try to reach him.
    “Uh-uh-uh. I’m in charge here,” he said.
    She collapsed onto the mattress in exasperation.
    Fabric rustled, cloth brushed her thigh and she realized Ross had taken off his shirt. There was no rattle of buckle or slide of zipper, so his pants were still on.
    She felt him move in, felt his heat. Now what? Please, something. Her heart battered her chest, she held her breath. Something hot and wet touched the hollow of her neck, electrifying her. His tongue, that sweet muscle.
    “Ooh,” she said, fairly gushing into her panties. He’d barely touched his lips to her neck and she was ready to climax.
    “Do you like that?” he asked softly.
    “What do you think?”
    In answer, his tongue moved to her collarbone, then lower to the very top of her breast. “How about this?”
    “Y-yes.”
    Lazily, with mind-bending stealth, his lips made their way lower on her breasts. She couldn’t help pushing up for more, but each time she did, he pulled away. The nipple. Please, my nipple, I’m begging you, she wanted to scream. But she knew he’d deny the request if she made it.
    Luckily she held her tongue, because he soon found that precious nub, which fairly pulsed with heat. He circled it with moisture, then pulled it into his mouth with a sucking sound.
    Electricity rushed through her, lighting up places all over her body—places aching for Ross’s touch, aching to touch him, but her hands were tied. She pushed her breast farther into his mouth. This time he accepted it and groaned. He was getting carried away, too. Thank goodness. She hated being in this frantic, hungry place alone.
    He moved to suckle her lonely other breast. So good. She pushed up into his mouth, but he released her breast, shifted more fully on the bed, then kissed beneath her breast, then lower to her stomach, then lower, until at last she felt the blessed pressure on her cleft. His tongue pushed against the thin fabric of her panties, wetting her clear through to the tender spot beneath. She thought she might melt from there upward, like so much granulated sugar in water.
    She couldn’t let him stop now, no matter what. She lifted her hips and locked his head in place with her knees. She made a helpless, stuttering sound and wiggled against his mouth. She wanted more—more tongue, more direct contact.
    Stubbornly he pulled his mouth from dead center and began to lick along the leg edge of her panties, sending her already tightened clitoris into a harder knot. She shifted to try to force his mouth to the hot spot, but he gripped her hips and held her maddeningly in place.
    “You keep forgetting who’s in charge,” he murmured. He removed his mouth altogether, so that all she felt were his hands holding her and the cooling moisture he’d left.
    “Please,” she cried out, hoarse with need. This was agony.
    “Let go,” he commanded. “Give yourself to me.”
    “I am. I will…please.”
    Thankfully he didn’t wait for her to stop wiggling—she couldn’t have—before easing his tongue under the edge of the thin material of her panties, close to where she wanted him, but not…quite…there.
    “Please, please, pleeease,” she moaned, sweat breaking out all over her body, which felt chafed with unmet desire. She yanked at the ties around her wrist, wanting her hands now. Wanting to grab his hair and push his mouth right there. Cool the burn. Put it out. Now.
    “I can see you’re suffering,” he said in pretend sympathy. “I guess I’ll have to help you.” He slowly teased her panties downward and off her feet. Then he lifted her knees, opened her legs and finally, finally pressed his mouth where she was frantic for him.
    His tongue was on her, strong, but soft, offering glorious relief. She groaned and panted and tried to lunge for him with her restrained hands, now