Page 132 of The Sweetest Return

His dick pressed hard beneath the robe.

Thick against me.

Right there.

I rolled my hips once, and the sound he made into my mouth ruined any little bit of sense I had left.

“Careful,” he said.

“I thought you wanted me.”

“I do.” His hands tightened on my waist. “That’s why I said careful.”

The words should not have made me wetter.

They did.

Dre’s eyes dropped to where my open robe exposed my breasts, my stomach, the diamond at my navel, and the place between us where I had already made a mess against him.

Then he looked at the couch.

“Lie back.”

My pulse jumped.

“Here?”

“You want to make it to the bedroom first?”

I shifted off his lap and stretched along the couch, robe open, one knee bent, the other foot still on the floor because I could not find enough grace to make any of this look elegant. Dre did not seem to mind. He pulled the ottoman closer, sat in front of me, and slid both hands under my thighs.

The position left me open.

Too open.

His eyes moved over me with a focus that made my nipples tighten until the rings tugged.

“Look at you.”

I swallowed.

Dre kissed the inside of my knee, then higher.

“You messy, baby.”

My thighs tried to close.

He held them open.

“Uh-uh. Don’t get shy after dripping all over yourself in my robe.” His beard brushed my inner thigh. “I’m gon’ clean you up first.”

“Dre.”

“That’s right.” His mouth touched me close enough to make my hips lift. “Say my name while I’m down here.”

The first stroke of his tongue stole the air from my chest.

My hand flew to the back of his head, palm sliding over his low cut because there was nothing to grip and I needed something. Dre groaned against me when he tasted me, the sound deep enough to vibrate through my clit.