My Sexy Saturday: Sexy in the Sky

Welcome to installment #167 of My Sexy Saturday, the blog hop where, every Saturday, authors bring you steamy excerpts (7 paragraphs, 7 sentences, or even 7 scintillating words) centered on a particular theme. This week’s theme is Sexy in the Sky, so even though I have a kinky novella, The Lion of Frenchman Street, coming out on 11/17, I’m going to give you something from Buck, Naked. Because foreplay in a stolen cargo flyer? Definitely sexy in the sky!

He tried to move slowly, tried to be gentle, yet suave. That worked until her lips softened and parted more and he couldn’t resist darting his tongue in.

Then they were devouring each other. It was fierce and awkward and eager as a couple of teenagers who were still figuring out the best ways for mouths to fit together. The flyer wasn’t the most comfortable place for shenanigans—there was only the one seat and they’d both been too polite to take it, so they were standing hunched over and hoping the flyer made no sudden moves that would knock them down.That didn’t stop his hands from roaming down her back to cup that tempting, curvy ass or hers from exploring his back and groping his butt. Didn’t stop his cock from springing to hot, hard life. They were flying low, probably the level the flyer used for its delivery route. The city was a blur around them, maybe because the flyer was moving, but more likely because all his blood had rushed from his brain to his dick so anything he saw that wasn’t Aleema didn’t make sense.

He shifted position, reluctant to move away from her, but desperate to slip his hand between their straining bodies. Her nipple was osmium hard, and her breast felt as full and delicious as it had in his fantasies. Her breath hissed as he circled the nipple. He broke off the kiss long enough to say, “This all right?”

Her answer wasn’t exactly coherent, but “yes” was definitely in there, along with some gasping and what had to be the name of some deity.

Her shirt had tear-tabs. He tore. Stars bless the person who invented tear-tab shirts with built-in bras, because Aleema was naked to the waist now, and like he’d imagined, her nipples were plump and tempting. They really were the color of a dendar plum, and he wondered if her cunt was that delicious color too, and getting ripe-plum juicy for him. Bit too soon to explore that. He might be rusty about the whole sexytimes procedure, but he knew most women wanted you to take your time. Aleema seemed more than able to speed things up if she wanted to.

He kissed his way down her throat, paying extra attention to the scars that stood out on that smooth dark skin, scars that suggested she, like him, had tried to end the madness at some point and hadn’t been able to. Nibbled along her collarbone. He wanted to rush to the swell of her breasts, but he forced himself to kiss his way millimeter by millimeter to that delicious arc and then down, kissing and licking and nibbling around that tempting nipple but not quite touching it. Finally, when she was squirming against him and making small, frantic noises, he caught that plump, puckered nipple in his mouth. It crinkled even more, hardened under the assault of his lips and tongue and Aleema’s moan was like a hand stroking his cock just right.

Then her hand actually stroked his cock through his pants and it felt better than his imagination could have conjured, even with fabric and her yellow gloves in the way of flesh on flesh.

More about Buck, Naked

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