Rich Bitch: Everything's Going to the Dogs by Nancy Warren

Author:Nancy Warren [Warren, Nancy]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Literature & Fiction, Romance, Contemporary, Romantic Comedy, Romantic Suspense, Mystery & Suspense, Suspense
Amazon: B00K6L9U3Q
Publisher: Ambleside Publishing
Published: 2014-05-06T05:00:00+00:00

Chapter 8

“What are we going to do, then, stuck here all day?” Sophie asked him. She was so gorgeous and so vital, all he could think about was protecting her. Well, and some other things.

“I have a few ideas.”

“We can’t make love all day,” she said, shaking her head so her dark hair brushed her jaw and gesticulating with her hands, including the one that held bread spread with strawberry jam.

In her agitation, she waved the bread about, and a dollop of jam toppled off the bread to land on her shirt, where it covered the upper slope of her right breast.

“Merde!” she cried, dropping the bread onto her plate and picking up a napkin. He watched the jam, fascinated. It caught the light when she moved and glowed ruby. He took the napkin from her and said, “Let me.”

He leaned forward. He watched her breasts rise and fall as she breathed, watched the patch of preserves. The scent of strawberry was as sweet as summer. He put his lips to the spot and sucked the jam into his mouth.

She laughed. “What are you doing?”

“I’m cleaning you up. I like to do a very thorough job,” he promised her. He was thinking he’d get her mind off her troubles for a while, but the minute he got close to her, he was lost.

He looked down, and where he’d pulled part of her cotton shirt into his mouth, he’d left a crinkly round wet spot. There was still a little jam left, so he leaned forward and this time pulled more shirt into his mouth, and sneaky devil that he was, he managed to get her nipple this time.

There was some kind of flimsy bra there as well, but he still made the most of his position, using his teeth gently but firmly to be sure she felt him through all that fabric. She sighed and pushed forward against him, grabbing the back of his head and pulling him tighter against that wonderful round flesh. He smelled her laundry soap, and her skin, and strawberries.

He launched himself at the other breast until he’d made another patch of wet blouse and bra, and another nipple was hard on his tongue.

When he pulled back, he was breathing heavily, and so was she. Sunlight spilled through the window, tossing bars of light across the sturdy pine table, the food, and the woman laughing at him breathlessly. Suddenly, he was filled with a lust so strong it was more need than desire.

“I want you,” he said.

“I know.” And she did. He could see his own desire reflecting back from her. Beneath the wet patches on her shirt her nipples were rock hard in the wet, wrinkled fabric—almost shocking against the elegant and unmussed rest of her.

He scooted closer and kissed her mouth, thrusting his tongue deep in his frantic need. She licked at him, nipped him, took over his mouth as he made short work of the buttons down her front. He managed to undo

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