Catarina

The tapping of a keyboard trickles into the forefront of my groggy brain. Sleep’s tendrils are slipping away but I try and hold on to them. The gauzy, fuzzy state of my brain too good to abandon.

The tapping continues. The clearing of a throat. And then the vestiges of a really nice dream slip away completely.

I lazily open my eyes to find that the dream I was having—about making love to Fox against a countertop and his kitchen wall—wasn’t a dream at all. It couldn’t have been. I’m in his darkened bedroom, wearing nothing but bedsheets, feeling naughty and nice at once.

What a luxury that is.

Barrett, shirtless, sheet covering him to the waist is squinting in concentration. His angled face is lit by the laptop’s screen, his lips moving as he reads the text before him. He taps a few more keys, unaware that I’m watching. He types the word “there,” backspaces several times in a row, and then pecks out the word “their” instead.

“T-H-E-R-E is the one you’re looking for,” I say after a quick scan of the sentence.

He starts at the sound of my voice, studies the screen, then grumbles “It looked wrong” before angrily pounding the delete key again and again.

“Probably because it’s the middle of the night.” I curl my hand over his biceps and rest my chin there. “Can I help?”

“No.”

“Please?”

He turns his head and raises two thick eyebrows at my request. “You already helped. A little too well. You have no idea how badly I want to dive under these sheets with you.”

“Mmm. Sounds great.”

“No.” His perfect mouth over enunciates the word and then he studies his screen again.

“Discipline is unbecoming on you, Fox. Aren’t you supposed to be the rule-breaker?”

“Maybe you’re rubbing off on me.”

“Maybe I could rub you off instead of you working all night like a spoilsport.” I run my hand down the sheet beneath the laptop and cup his balls.

His eyes shut, the laptop held away from his body in one hand. I give his balls a rub and the sheet springs to life.

“Well, at least one of you is happy to see me,” I tease.

He sets aside his computer on the nightstand and tosses the sheet off both of us. “Trust me, honey. We’re all glad to see you.”

I’m caged beneath him a moment later, covered by his delicious heat and weight. I lift my face to kiss him but he pulls back.

“I’m screwed if I don’t get that done by tomorrow.”

“Nonsense. I’ll tell Mia we need an extension. I’m sure I can talk her into pushing it to tomorrow afternoon.”

His brow wrinkles.

“You’ll be fresher when you wake up.”

“Not if you keep me up all night.” He nudges me with his growing erection and I can’t help grinning.

I lift my chin a fraction more and he gives in, kissing me as one of his hands roams to my breast. His tongue moves down my neck to my nipple, drawing circles around the bud as my back arches.

I don’t argue when he continues south, slicking my skin with his tongue and placing kisses on my ribs, on my belly button, and at the junction of my thighs.

I blow out a tormented breath, arching further.

“Guessing you want a coupla kisses somewhere specific?” He teasingly kisses my thigh. I swivel my pelvis toward his mouth. “Been a while, Kitty Cat?”

“It’s my favorite.” I pull my head off the pillow to make sure he sees me pouting.

“Lucky for you,” he says as he scoots away from the Promised Land, “I’m good at it. But I have a vow to keep first.” He drags his tongue along the inside of one of my knees. “Done right, this can be just as good.”

I grunt—half in disappointment, half in disbelief. He notices. Of course. He notices everything.

“Don’t believe me?” Another lick and then he closes his lips over the same spot and suckles. My toes curl. My nipples grow hard.

“Oh my God.”

He finishes me off with a soft smooch but doesn’t offer a smart-ass comment or cocky eyebrow raise. Instead, he lowers his head and makes out with the sensitive spot behind my knee again.

I’m writhing by the time he moves to my right knee. About to beg by the time his lips graze my right thigh. And I nearly come on contact when he licks my center with devotion.

I yelp. A helpless, pleading sound. My fists wrap in the sheets and I tug as he pushes his tongue against my clit over and over again.

He wasn’t exaggerating. He’s really good at this.

Sparks dance on my skin as a fireball blooms in my stomach. Tingles shoot down my legs—legs I’ve thrown over his shoulders. He’s made himself at home and is making a five-course meal out of me.

He pulls away and I take advantage of the break to catch my breath.

“Give those nipples a tug,” he instructs.

I manage a subtle shake of my head. He wants me to…what? I don’t make a habit of pleasing myself with an audience.

“Don’t get shy on me, Kitty Cat. Not with my face buried in your pussy.”

I stab my bottom lip with my top teeth and reach up to give my nipples a quick tweak. I stop when I notice Barrett watching.

“Don’t look!”

“Honey. I’m looking. Do it again.” He offers a devilish smile, his handsome face framed by my thighs. As if my body’s been taken hostage by his wants, I tug my nipples.

“That’s it,” he encourages, still watching. He strokes down my seam and slides a finger deep while I tug, my eyes locked on his.

“Keep going.” He doesn’t break eye contact when he lowers his head to tickle my clit and I nearly shoot off the bed from the surge of desire that electrocutes my body.

I pause, eyes wide. He grins.

He adds another finger, filling me, and tonguing me while I continue teasing my own nipples.

I’m lost in a sea of powerful thrusts and sharp riptides of pleasure. My mind blots into mirrored abstract images as an intense orgasm swamps me.

I have no idea how long I lay there, sweat cooling on my temples, my breathing going shallow.

Soon, I taste his kiss, feel him push the hair away from my forehead, and then he’s inside me, sliding deep and bringing me to the pinnacle yet again.