Talk Me Down by Victoria Dahl Page B

her rib cage, and he picked her up. Just picked her up as if she weighed nothing, and he set her on her feet right between his body and the bed.
    “Man, I love it when you do that.”
    “I know,” he answered with the distinctive sound of male pleasure rumbling low in his voice. And then he pushed her panties off, shoved them off, really, and lifted her up again, as if she wasn’t horny enough. Her breasts pressed into the crisp hair of his chest and she wrapped her legs around his hips and pressed herself against his jeans.
    “Mmm, déjà vu,” she moaned as he lifted one knee to the mattress and hauled them both up. She hung on like a monkey on a tree. A big ol’ hard, straight tree with a massive trunk.
    “What—” Ben asked over her sudden laughter “—is going through that head of yours?”
    “Phallic symbols,” she giggled as he lowered her to the pillow.
    “Phallic symbols? Really? Not any specific phallus?” His hand paused on the zipper of his jeans. “That’s kind of an ego blow.”
    Molly watched his hand with pained interest. “Don’t stop.”
    “Well, I don’t know, Moll. I’m kinda—”
    “Take those jeans off now. ”
    “Huh. That’s not so much dirty talk as it is bossiness.” His hand fell away from the zipper. “Now where were we?”
    She opened her mouth to object, she really did, but he planted a hand on either side of her shoulders and lowered himself down for a kiss. One taste of him and Molly didn’t care about his jeans; there were so many other good parts of him to enjoy. His back, for instance, a smooth expanse of muscles that rippled under her touch.
    His tongue was slick velvet, his chin the slightest rasp of stubble against her skin, but his back was hot silk beneath her fingers. One more texture against her—warm denim—and she’d be golden.
    Molly smoothed her hands down his back, snuck beneath the waistband of his jeans, and gripped his tight ass in her hands. They both grunted when she pulled his hips tight to hers and ground herself against him.
    “Oh, hell yeah,” Molly moaned, but Ben shook his head.
    “Not this time, babe. This time we’re doing it right.”
    She rolled her hips and little stars twinkled through her body. “Feels…pretty right.”
    Ben half groaned and half laughed, but he managed to slip from her clutches, sliding his body lower, rubbing his skin against her sensitive nipples until she arched up to get more, more, more.
    Oh, yeah, there was the scrape of his beard again, drawing a swath of prickly pleasure down her chest, and over one happily startled nipple just before he sucked the tight peak deep into his mouth. Molly arched her head back so far that the room turned upside down. “Oh, yes. Yes, yes.”
    His laughter rumbled through her, trailing sizzles of pleasure. He followed the echo of nerves down, pausing to press a kiss or slow bite to a few different spots. And then he was licking the hollow of her hip, the tight tendon of her inner thigh. She dug her hands into the sheets to keep from grabbing his hair and tugging him to the right place. She’d already used his crotch as a sex toy; it probably wouldn’t be right to use his face.
    And he would get there eventually. He couldn’t suck that one spot at the very top of her thigh forever. He’d get—
    “Now!” she cried out. “Now, please. I need you. Oh, Ben, I want your tongue and your mouth and…sucking and…”
    That chuckle again, only this time it was trembling through her sex, because his tongue was finally right there, pressed against her clit. He licked, curled his tongue around, sucked, and this was so much better than her little blue friend.
    “Oh, God, oh God,” she groaned, adding a few more words she tried not to hear herself say. But Ben seemed to take it as encouragement, because he repeated the little swirling motion with his tongue. “More, please. Pretty please?”
    And just like that, Ben obliged. He didn’t mess around with preliminaries,