“Michael, don’t say it,” she said quickly.
He paused, considered her with a naughty glint in his eyes. “You mean . . . pussy?”
Flames burned her face, and she wanted to hide inside herself.
The corner of his mouth kicked up. “No wonder my mom likes you so much. It’s very Vietnamese to be modest about sex. I didn’t even know the correct Vietnamese word for girl parts until I was twenty. Most people call it a little bird. My aunt refers to it as a sweet potato. Those aren’t the right words for yours. You have a pussy, Stella.”
Her face burned even hotter, and the blush spread down her neck to her chest, touching everything. “That’s a cat. They purr and catch mice. Me—that part—it doesn’t—the image is so ridiculous—I can’t—”
“It’s a pussy, Stella, and it’s wet for me, and I want to eat it.” Focusing a dark look between her legs, he traced her folds, dipped inside briefly, and began circling the part of her that wanted him most. “And this, this is your clit. It wants my mouth so bad it’s bright red. Put us both out of our misery, and let me taste you. If you hate it, I’ll stop.”
It hit her then that he truly wanted this, her. He liked what he saw. His unabashed craving for her most private parts was real. And dirty. And . . . exciting. A secret Stella woke up and stretched, drawn to Michael and his words.
“Will you be disappointed if I don’t like it and I don’t respond like other women?” She wanted to like it, wanted to orgasm for his mouth like so many other women had, and because of that, her arousal started fading away as performance anxiety took its place.
“If you don’t like it, then we’ll move on.” Running his hands down her inner thighs, he spread her wider. The tip of his tongue pressed against his gorgeous upper lip.
He bent down close to her wet flesh, making her nervousness spike to heart-pounding levels, and took a deep breath. “I’m beginning to understand your addiction to my smell. It’s a good thing you don’t smell like this everywhere, though. I’d have a constant hard-on for you. I’m having enough trouble as it is.”
A gentle closed-mouth kiss landed on her clitoris, and her entire body stiffened. That was not what she’d expected.
“Hate it?” he asked.
“I—I . . .”
Another kiss, followed by a slow tasting. He hummed his approval and covered her with his mouth, sucking with slight pressure as his tongue laved her. Soft and warm and delicious. Stella’s body went limp as heat bloomed inside her.
“I can tell you don’t like it,” he rasped. “Just let me . . .” His tongue stroked into her, lapping at the moisture that flooded from her. “One last taste.” He returned to her clitoris, scraping his teeth against the sensitive nerves before he kissed her again, sipped at her, licked her.
She buried her face in the blankets as pleasure concentrated low and deep. His tongue was so clever, but release stayed just out of reach. This was too new. Her body was in a state of shock from the sensations bombarding her. When he stopped she was going to cry.
Two fingers worked into her, and her eyes rolled back into her head. He began a steady rhythm as his tongue flickered over her, and she couldn’t prevent her hips from rising to meet his thrusts. Oh God, she was riding his hand, smothering his face with her sex. That had to be bad. She told herself to stop. She couldn’t.
Somehow, she found her hands tangled in his short hair. Her body was coiling tighter, grasping at his fingers, so wet now she could hear the slippery sounds every time he drove back into her.
“I’ll stop, Stella. Clearly . . .” His tongue rubbed over her fast and hard, and she clenched helplessly around his fingers. “Clearly, you hate this.”
“Michael.” That breathy, needy voice was hers. She didn’t care. She rubbed her hungry flesh against his tongue, nearly sobbing when he took her back into his mouth.
He sucked with perfect pressure, and she came apart with strong, wrenching convulsions. He rode out the orgasm with her, dragging out the pleasure with soothing flicks of his tongue. As the aftershocks spaced out, he pressed a parting kiss to her sex and rose over her to blanket her with his body. She buried her face against his chest, feeling more exposed and vulnerable than she’d ever been.
She’d let him do that to her. She’d made all those sounds, lost all control.
“You came on me like a porn star, Stella. I almost spilled in my jeans.”
“Did it take me too long? Was that a lot of . . . work?” It discomforted her that she’d been the only one to derive pleasure from that act. She much preferred to be on the giving side of things.
He laughed softly. “I drew it out on purpose, Stella. You were sexy as hell.” Peeling away from her, he sat back on his heels and extracted a small foil from his pocket. “Do you want to?”
She pushed herself up, and the bathrobe slipped off her shoulders. She stifled the reflex to cover her nudity but couldn’t bring herself to meet his eyes. Her pulse was out of control. “Yes, I want to.” She took the foil from his hand and tore it open with shaky fingers.
He got down from the bed and unbuttoned and unzipped his fly. His muscles bunched and shifted, and the dragon tattoo winked at her as he stepped free of his pants with masculine grace. This was Michael in all of his naked glory. He was perfection. Even that part of him.
Oh God, especially that part of him. His erection stood at attention, thick and veined, in flawless proportion to the rest of his beautiful body. She’d just had the most intense orgasm of her life, but she wanted more. She wanted that. It made her mouth water, and she’d never given a man oral sex.
She couldn’t remember how to breathe as he kneeled on the bed and wrapped one of her hands around him. He was so hot, satiny soft, but rigid underneath. Want, want, want. In any way she could. In whatever way he liked.
“Stella, the look on your face.” His voice was hoarse, almost a groan. He guided her fist up and down his length, saying, “This is my cock. When you want it, when you need it, that’s the word I want you to use.”
Unable to speak, she nodded. Secret Stella loved the idea of demanding his . . . cock . . . and him providing it, though she didn’t think she’d ever be able to get that word past her lips. Not unless they were talking about farm animals. Probably not even then.
“Do you want to put it on me?” he asked, indicating the forgotten condom in her other hand.
She licked her lips and cleared her throat. “Yes.”
Her hands weren’t steady, so she and Michael ended up doing it together. When they finished, he pulled her close, and she shivered at the feel of their skin coming in contact. Her nipples grazed his chest, and his solid length burned against her lower belly. He swept his hands up and down her back as he angled his head, trying to catch her gaze.
“Why won’t you look at me?”
She trained her eyes on the notch at the base of his throat and hunched her shoulders forward. “I’m feeling very self-conscious.”
“We’re both naked.”
She didn’t know how to explain that it was on the inside that she was feeling naked. If he looked into her eyes, he’d see all of her, the person she kept hidden away. No one wanted to see that. This was supposed to be fun and educational, not soul-baring.
He tipped her chin back, and she caught a glimpse of tender eyes before she squeezed her own shut.
“Kiss me, please,” she said.
Warm lips took hers, tasting of her and him and sex. His hands grew urgent as he caressed her. He grabbed her thigh and hooked her leg around his hips, opening her to him. With a flex of his hips, he stroked over her sex. The friction sent blood pooling fast and hot.
“Now, Stella.”
She wrapped her arms around the barrel of his chest and pressed her lips to his neck. “I’m ready.”
He lowered her to the bed, and his body covered her. He nuzzled against her jaw and ear, pressed soft kisses to her cheek, the corner of her mouth, her lips. “You have to talk to me, okay? If something hurts, if you don’t like it, if you want something more, if it’s perfect. Say everything.”