“Of course,” she said quickly, pulling her hand back out of his and sitting on the blanket promptly. “But…” She hesitated, and he watched her bite her lip in the moonlight. “I’m warning you, this might be more difficult than you think with the whole three-times thing.”
So that was it? She was worried that she wouldn’t be able to perform? That was a bit of role reversal. He swallowed the laugh that threatened to rise in his throat, guessing that she wouldn’t appreciate that. “Miranda, you’re thinking too much about this. If it takes all night to get you to relax, then it takes all night. All right?”
“Sure,” she said lamely, and he knew she didn’t believe him.
He nodded at her shoes. “Why don’t you take those off? Get comfortable?” She did so, kicking them off and wiggling her feet in her socks. He moved onto the blanket with her and she stiffened, so he pulled back again. This was…different. When Miranda had come on to him, she’d been confident, sexy, and wild. But he’d told her his plans and she’d stewed all day on what he wanted to do to her. Now he could see it was a mistake that he’d let her anticipate their meeting tonight. Gone was the confident woman from earlier—in her place was a skittish girl who seemed to be terrified that she was going to somehow prove one of them wrong and disappoint them both. He knew her mind would be working hard on the fact that she needed to have an orgasm—more than one—to please him.
In other words, his sexy promise had completely stressed her out. Not exactly the desired reaction.
He sat next to her and took her hand in his. “Hey.”
She looked at him, wary. “What is it?”
“I promise to come all over your face if you take too long on your end. Deal?” He said it purely to ease the tension from her shoulders, the strange worry that he’d somehow put there by promising her pleasure.
Miranda giggled, and the sound washed over him like an electric current, lighting up his nerve endings. That soft, sultry little giggle made his cock instantly hard. But he ignored that, studying her face.
“Gosh, thanks,” she said sarcastically, but her face was lit up in a smile.
He liked seeing that smile. Dane leaned forward and put a hand at the base of her head, pulling her forward. His mouth captured hers in a kiss—hot, wet, and open. She gasped and stiffened against him, her mind clearly starting up. He didn’t want that. Apparently when she thought too much, she worried about her own responses and whether they were right or not. He just wanted her to respond, not to think about responding. So he stroked his tongue into her mouth, a wicked, hard thrust designed to take her off guard and remind her what they were here for.
She stiffened for a moment, and then he felt her melt against him. Her hands moved to his chest and shoulders, fingers curling into his shirt as she held on. His tongue thrust into her mouth again, then he rubbed it against hers, teasing her, coaxing with every slow, deep plunge of his tongue. Each thrust was a reminder of what he was going to do to her very shortly, and he wanted her to know it. Make her feel every deep lick into her mouth straight to her pussy.
With each breath, she gasped, making soft little noises in the back of her throat. He liked that—he liked that a lot, but he continued to kiss her, not rushing a thing. Instead of the deep, searing kisses, he changed tactics on her. With one last lick into her mouth, he started nibbling at her lips, tasting the plump softness, appreciating the way that she responded to his kisses. And he slowly, slowly pulled her forward with each kiss, until he hauled her into his lap and forced her to straddle him.
He expected her to stiffen again, but she didn’t—she eagerly straddled him and her hips rocked against his, her hands going to his neck as she began to kiss him back with eager intensity. And when he pressed another light kiss to her mouth, she made a noise of frustration and took the initiative, moving away from the soft kisses and back to a deep, searing one, her tongue seeking out his.
Fuck yes. He pressed down on her hips, letting her feel the hard length of him against her, and was rewarded with a low moan in her throat. “Feel that? I’ve been walking around hard all day, thinking about you and your sweet little mouth, that long hair, your tight pussy. I can’t wait to taste you.”
She stiffened against him, and he felt the uncertainty wash over her. Damn. Back to square one.
He gave her another deep kiss, but he could tell she was pulling back again. The only way he was going to get her over this ridiculous fear was to show her she had nothing to be afraid of. “Miranda,” he whispered, leaning in to kiss her mouth lightly again. “I’m going to show you that you can come as often as you want to. Just because you dated a bunch of fools in the past with sausages for fingers doesn’t mean that you’re the problem. Understand?”
She shook her head, and that sexy fall of dark hair brushed over her shoulders. “What if it was a fluke?” she whispered. “What if we try tonight and we can’t make it happen?”
She sounded so brokenhearted at the thought that his chest ached. In that instant, he decided that he was going to make her come if it killed him, just to prove to her that she wasn’t the problem. And if it took until dawn, then he was going to enjoy every last minute of it. “You’re focusing on the wrong things,” he told her, using every ounce of willpower he had not to thrust up against her hips. Tonight was going to be about her, not him. “It’s not about how fast you can come. It’s about how much you enjoy yourself until you do. Understand me?”
She gave a small snort in the darkness. “I’m not stupid, Dane. I know what sex is about.”
“Of course you do. And that’s why you’re going to let me show you how to enjoy yourself, aren’t you?” He grinned at her and rocked forward, tipping them both onto the crinkling blanket until Miranda was pinned beneath him and he lay on top of her.
Her eyes widened as his weight settled over her and she stared up at him. “You don’t have to worry about me. I’m going to enjoy myself.”
Dane grinned down at her. “Good. Now, can I take your top off?”
She hesitated a moment, then nodded. When he reached for the hem of her shirt, she wiggled and helped him pull it off. Her bra was another lacy confection, this one so sheer that he could see her dusky nipples in the moonlight through the fabric. He leaned down and brushed his mouth over one, feeling the fabric abrade against the sensitive peak.
Miranda’s breath sucked in and her hands went to his shoulders, her body tensing slightly under him. She’d liked that.
Just that small reaction made him feel like the fucking king of the world.
“Tonight you’re going to let me take control, Miranda. I’m going to decide what you like, and I’m going to take that and use it to pleasure you, understand?”
She rolled her eyes at him and attempted to get up, but he took her arm and pinned it above her head, his grip gentle but firm. “Understand?” he said softly. “This is about letting me have control over you. About me giving you pleasure.”
Her body trembled under his, and her hips flexed in an automatic gesture of need. She widened her eyes, staring up at him, and slowly nodded. “All yours,” she said. “For tonight.”
“Very good,” he murmured, and slid a hand over her shoulders, feeling the warmth of her creamy skin, enjoying the way the moonlight played over her body. He could feel her heart pounding under his hand, and he glanced up at her face. She had the same melting, soft expression in her eyes that he’d recognized from before—the one where she was lost in desire. Good, that was exactly what he wanted to see from her.
His fingers hooked to the front of the pretty bra. There was a tiny bow at the front, and he tugged at the fabric beneath it. “You’ve got another one of these, right?”
A frown creased her brow. “Why?”
He’d take that as a yes. Dane snagged his finger under the fabric and ripped it straight down the center. The flimsy fabric split in half, exposing her breasts to the moonlight. “Because it’s in my way.”
“You Neanderthal,” she said, but
a laugh bubbled up in her throat and she halfheartedly tried to slap his hand away.
He kept her other arm pinned and just grinned at her, his hand moving quickly to cup one of the breasts. It was perfectly rounded, and he felt the hard little nipple scrape against his palm as he touched her.
Her laugh died in her throat, her eyes widening just a little at the caress, her expression going soft.
Dane cupped her breast, feeling the weight of it against his palm, and put his other hand on her opposite breast, watching her reaction. She didn’t move, her arm still above her head as if he yet pinned it. Her cheeks were flushed with desire and her breathing had sped up slightly. That was good. That was very good.
He brushed a thumb across one nipple, finding it hard and peaked. Her breath sucked in at the small touch, so he repeated it, rubbing the tip back and forth with his thumb. She arched underneath him, her lips parting, her eyes closing in ecstasy. He continued to rub at the nipple with one hand, enjoying the small whimpers that poured forth from her, and bent over the other peak. He brushed his lips against it, then nibbled at the tip.
It hardened underneath his lips and he lapped at it, then he swirled his tongue while she moaned in response. Her back arched under him, pressing her breasts harder against his hands, and he felt her hips give a tiny instinctive buck.
How had Miranda thought she was unresponsive in bed? How had her boyfriends of the past not been able to wring orgasms from her? Were they idiots who hadn’t cared if she came or not? Or had they always let her have control of the situation, never realizing that what she truly craved was to be the one out of control? The one off guard? He’d discovered that when she was thinking, she worried. His goal had been to stop that thinking, and all it had taken was kisses on the soft skin and attention to her breasts. And her responses were delicious—already she writhed under him, needing more.
And damn if it wasn’t making him as hard as a rock. His cock was thick and heavy in his shorts, straining against his clothing, but he ignored it. He wanted to bring her to where she needed to be before he even thought about himself. And right now, she needed him touching her.
He pressed another kiss on the tip of her nipple, enjoying the way her skin prickled in a thousand tiny goose bumps in reaction. So responsive. He bit lightly at the pale flesh, then kissed the nip away, replacing his mouth with his hand and cupping her breast once more, his thumbs grazing the nipples to keep her fevered. And as he touched her, he lowered his mouth to the cleft between her breasts, kissing the soft skin there.
Her response was a small sigh of pleasure, her fingers tightening in his shirt. She liked to be kissed. He decided in that moment that Miranda Hill needed a lot more kissing. He pressed a kiss lower, on her ribs and belly, then another, and another, enjoying the silky feeling of her skin. Her body was perfect in the moonlight, softly rounded but sleek, all curves and delicate skin.
He nibbled at her stomach, enjoying the flutter of her laughter.
“That tickles,” she whispered.
“Good.” He kissed her sweet belly because he could, and because he liked tickling her. His thumbs brushed over her nipples again, and he felt her chuckle turn into a rasping inhalation of pleasure. He could sit here and play with her gorgeous breasts for hours, he mused to himself, moving back to her breasts and replacing one hand with his mouth again. The nipple looked sadly neglected and he leaned in to bite at it.
She jumped and shivered again.
“Such pretty skin,” he told her, plumping both breasts together so he could switch back and forth between the nipples. Even as he ran his tongue over one tip, she faltered underneath him, and he noticed her hands sliding off of his shirt. When he bit her nipple again, she gasped, but it wasn’t the sexy, excited little gasp that she’d given before.
Miranda was thinking again. What on earth was she thinking about?
He lifted his head and moved forward to press a kiss to her mouth. “Miranda?”
She gave him a hesitant smile, but said nothing.
His hands moved over her breasts and he pinched both nipples at once, causing her body to jolt. The blurry, dazed look returned to her eyes, and then quickly faded again.
“What are you thinking, Mir?”
She bit her lip—fuck, that did amazing things to his cock when she did that—and then glanced away.
He pinched both her nipples again, harder—and she yelped.
“Miranda,” he said in a husky voice. “Don’t make me bite you into a confession.”
She shivered at that, but he couldn’t tell if it was a good shiver or a bad one.
“I was just…I’m enjoying myself,” she said after a moment. “Really.”
But what? He watched her face, then watched her expression as his thumbs gently brushed over the tips. That flutter of excitement passed over her face again, then quickly disappeared, followed by the faintest line between her eyebrows, as if she were concentrating very hard and somehow failing. Did she think she needed to come already? Because hell, they were just getting started.
He slid back down over her, pressing kisses to her neck and collarbone before returning to her breasts. Damn, he liked her breasts. He plumped one breast in his hand and then licked the nipple like he would an ice cream. “So,” he said casually. “I knew a girl once who could get off on nipple play.”
Her expression became bewildered, then flustered. Her hands pushed at him. “Why are you telling me this right now, you creep?”
Dane pinned her arm over her head again, his face leaning in close to hers. Her arm over her head left her breast high and arching, and he reached out to casually play with the nipple, toying with the tip, enjoying the goose bumps his touch left behind on her skin. “I said that I knew one girl, Miranda. One. She was one of the locker room bunnies that would show up and hope to bang a player. My buddies passed her around for a while. She’d show up at every home game, looking to score, and she’d come over the smallest touch. And she came a lot. She was noisy as hell, too. She really liked having her breasts touched, and she’d come as soon as someone touched her there.”
Miranda’s glare could have melted steel. She’d gone completely stiff in his arms.
“One time I went in to the locker room and noticed that she was in there, waiting for one of the guys to pay attention to her, and in the meantime, she was rubbing herself up against a doorknob, and getting off.”
Her glare turned into a smothered laugh. His own smile returned, and he leaned in to give her a gentle kiss. “She was the only girl I’d ever known who could get off on some guy touching her nipples. Most girls require a lot more work and a lot more foreplay, and I don’t want you thinking there’s something wrong with you because you can’t get off on doorknobs.”
She laughed, that sultry little giggle that she always tried to smother but leaked out anyhow. His cock went even harder at the sound. He was going to lose control if he didn’t start thinking about something unsexy. Like hockey. That always made his dick want to shrivel.
“Understand what I’m saying?” he said huskily, teasing that perky nipple. Fuck, he loved touching her breasts. He could caress them all night, and he told her so. Her eyes widened at that, and the soft, melting look returned to her eyes. “When I touch you, Miranda,” he said softly, “I don’t expect you to shatter instantly. I expect you to enjoy it and tell me what you like. Understand?”
She bit her lip again, and nodded. “I wasn’t a virgin the other night, you know. I realize that I seem like a big nervous idiot, but I just want you to know—”
“You don’t have to explain to me,” he said huskily. “Just let me touch you. I enjoy touching you.”
Miranda hesitated, then relaxed underneath him.
Clearly Miranda wasn’t used to men moving slowly in bed. That was a shame. Maybe she rushed them, trying to speed along the inevitable. Not him. He could spend all night playing with her breasts, teasing her body just to watch her reactions. But if he was losing her, that wasn’t go
od. He sat up, and moved his hands to her belt.
Her body tensed underneath him, her eyes wide as she watched him undo the button on her shorts and lower the zipper.
Her stomach moved up and down with her excited breathing, but when he looked up at her face, she showed anticipation…and a hint of nervousness. If she’d had oral sex, she hadn’t had it often, he decided. And he determined right then and there that she was going to enjoy it with him.
He lifted her hips off the ground and pulled the shorts down off her legs, tossing them aside. All that was left was a tiny pair of panties low on her hips, a charming pink ruffle on the waistband.
As if sensing his thoughts, her hands flew to the panties protectively. “You can’t rip these. They’re my favorites.”
Dane grinned down at her. “Better take them off fast, then.”
She lifted her hips and slid them down with a quick shimmy, then pushed them aside.
He moved between her legs, forcing them to part, and pulled his shirt off, throwing it on the blanket next to her clothing. He wanted to take his shorts off, but right now that was the only thing keeping him from sliding between her legs and fucking her right away, so he left them on. He groaned when her fingertips slid over his stomach, tracing his muscles.
“You have an amazing chest,” she said in a soft, low voice filled with wonder. “It looks so perfectly formed—like a sculpture.” Her fingertips trailed to his belly button and brushed the line of dark hair on his stomach, moving to the waistband of his pants.
“Not yet,” he said, his voice husky. He slid down on the crinkling blanket, kissing her belly again. The quiver returned to her body, her skin reacting with shivering goose bumps every time he kissed it. He kissed her belly button, then moved lower, and she began to tense underneath him. He reached up and took her hand in his, twining her fingers with his own even as he kissed the soft skin lower. “You just tell me if you want me to stop, all right?”
She laughed, the sound a little nervous. “Why would I ever tell you to stop?”