He moved his hands to her hips and lifted. Her bottom plunked down on the top of the cabinet. His kiss never faltered. He ate her tiny cry of surprise and her subsequent whimpers of arousal. His hands moved over her, bold and hungry, kneading her hips and ass, shaping her flesh to his palms. She parted her thighs willingly, using them to bracket his hips and bring him closer. Working feverishly, she loosened his tie, her fingers finding the buttons of his shirt. She unfastened the top three before she grew impatient and plunged her hand into the opening. The heat of him, the feeling of his smooth, thick skin and the springy hair on his chest, only amplified her lust.

She pulsed her hips forward on the smooth surface of the cabinet, bumping her crotch against his. She moaned into his mouth. He was a full, delightful package against her straining flesh. She recalled the stark beauty of his cock from that night they’d been together. She ground against him at the same moment that she found a nipple with her fingertip and flicked it gently with a nail.

His cock leapt against her spread pussy, and even through the fabric of their clothing, she felt his heat. He broke their kiss and hissed against her lips. He reached for the clasp of her dress at the back of her neck. Their soughing breath and the pound of her heart mingled in her ears as he deliberately lowered the dress over her breasts. He cupped her from below. He gave a low growl and his body responded just as appreciatively. She wasn’t wearing a bra. His thumbs feathered both nipples, and she gasped as pleasure shook her.

Then he was gone, his big, warm hands, his solid body, his addictive taste. Everything.

“Kam?” she asked shakily, disoriented by his abrupt absence.

The light switched on. Her breath caught. He stood just inside the closed door, his hand still on the switch, looking back at her. He came toward her, his gaze scorching.

“Damned if I’m going to miss out on seeing that,” he said, nodding at her partial nudity and splayed thighs. He knocked aside a couple of hangers above her head, and then reached for her hands. He guided them to the metal coatrack just above her head.

“Hold on tight,” he said, giving her a swift, grim glance. “And don’t let go. Do you understand?”

Her lungs weren’t working properly. She couldn’t speak, so she nodded and gripped onto the metal bar. Kam slid his hands beneath her dress and grasped her ass. He lifted and used his forearms to peel back her dress. When he set her back on the cabinet, her dress was bunched up around her hips. She looked down when he just stared fixedly between her thighs. A tiny triangle of black silk barely covered her outer sex. He opened his hand along her silk thigh-highs. It looked large and dark and masculine next her pale skin and feminine lingerie.

“I can’t stop thinking about your pussy,” he muttered, his jaw tight. A shaky cry fell past her lips as she watched him bend at the waist while, in one swipe, he used his hands to part her thighs wider. He grabbed her hips. She gripped onto the rack and stared ahead in sightless wonder as he pressed his face against her outer sex and nuzzled her labia. He tongued her through the thin fabric of her panties, his tongue warm and wet, pressing insistently against her sex lips, providing a relentless, delightful . . . forbidden pressure against her clit. He tightened his hold on her hips and ass, pulsing her hips forward against his rigid tongue.

She bit her lip as she resisted an overpowering urge to sink her fingers into his hair and pull him closer to her. He made a harsh sound in his throat and abruptly slid his hand along her hip, inserting his finger beneath her panties and lifting the fabric just an inch or two sideways over her pussy.

His tongue swept between her labia, slipping between the folds. She gasped sharply, the sensation of naked, wet flesh sliding and pressing against her naked clit growing exponentially powerful following the separation by fabric.

“Ah God . . . Kam,” she moaned, one of her hands releasing from the bar, automatically wanting to press him to her. He lifted his head slightly.

“Keep your hands on the bar,” he said, as if he had eyes in the back of his head and knew precisely what she’d been about to do.

She suppressed a groan and did what he demanded. Her reward was to have his tongue burrowing again in her outer sex, rubbing and agitating her clit. His mouth closed over her, his lips applying a firm pressure. His tongue continued to torment her . . . to delight her. When he applied a gentle suction, she barely stopped herself from screaming. She pulled down experimentally on the bar, but the construction was secure, the metal rod unyielding. She firmed her hold and used it to shift her hips, pressing her pussy against the heaven of his mouth and rigid tongue, earning more pressure and pleasure. He’d transformed her into a greedy wanton, and part of her was liberated.

Free.

He tightened his hold on her hips as he continued to eat her and she writhed against him. Her clit sizzled. She longed to ignite. She grew so frantic, perhaps he grew weary of having to hold her steady for his tongue.

Smack.

He’d popped her bottom with his palm.

Lin stilled, feeling the sting on her ass. She looked down in amazement and saw him looking up at her, his eyes hot, his lower mouth slick with her juices. He was so beautiful, her core clenched tight in instinctive craving.

“Keep still and take your pleasure, mon petit chaton,” he ordered gruffly.

She nodded, panting raggedly. No one had ever swatted her before. She had the impression no man would ever dare. Not that it hurt. It stung, though, like a sexy, tactile tattoo. She swore she could feel his handprint burning on the side of her right buttock. His gaze sunk down over her face and latched onto her heaving breasts.

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