Read Kept for His Appetites for Free Online Page B

my heart raced the next beat. I could get used to these silks and satins. I wondered whether he would see this view. And whether it would make his heart beat and his pulse race, as it did mine. My mind needed to compose itself for a more serious conversation with him, and I should be preparing to confront some of the questions and doubts that had been tugging at me all day. This was not the time for imagining the taste of his breath, or the heat of his body, pressing against mine. Not pressing there. Or there, definitely not there.
     
    Wow, it was time for a shower.
     
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    At 9.30 sharp, my high blue heels clicked with an exciting authority onto the foredeck. The long blue evening dress made a serious swish over the black stockings. He looked fine in the moonlight. He was drawing out a chair for me, but as he caught sight of me he stopped and took my hand. He said, 
     
    “Let me look at you.”
     
    And he did. There’s quite a lot of me to look at, and that dress made a pretty fine presentation of it all. His dark eyes flickered from the shoes, all the way up, and I don’t think he missed a curve or a crease. My full hips, my bare arms and the plunging decolletage got special attention, but my throat and my neck held his interest. When he reached my eyes, he could tell that I’d not wasted the moment, and that I had taken the chance to inspect him, too. From the feet, planted wide apart in impeccable deck shoes, up the thrilling crease of his charcoal pants, loosely draped but excellently filled, along his belt, where I saw a reaction just below. I raked my eyes up over his crisp white shirt, just the top two buttons open, showing a hint of that heroic chest. The strong neck, the dimpled chin. That grin, of course, but revealing a tiny flash of white teeth. And his eyes, smoldering and glowing.
     
    His hand touched my waist. His eyes burrowed, imploring into me. His fingers felt the silk of the dress stretched over my stomach, and his hand pressed gently there. His fingers touched the tip of the neckline, I could feel the heat and the weight between my breasts. He smoothed the fabric and said,
     
    “Tear it open.” His grin widened. I said,
     
    “Now?”
     
    He whispered,
     
    “Now.”
     
    I did.
     
    At the sight of my body, in all that flimsy lingerie, he moaned and I flung my whole body at his. I hugged him tight with every part of me. I wrapped my arms and my legs around him. My hands pulled the shirt out of his pants and ripped it open. My lips and my tongue feasted on the taste of his skin, from his chest all the way down to his stomach. I reached for his buckle, but he pulled my face up, and our mouths melted together. We breathed each other, we filled each other and we took each other. Meanwhile, our hands found their way around each other’s bodies. He squeezed my breasts, and I thought I would suffocate. I plunged into his pants and found his wonderful cock. Our hips ground together, and mine wanted to suck the whole of him right up inside me. I wanted all of him, I wanted him now. NOW!
     
    I felt my back on the deck, and his splendid weight on top of me. The scent of him made me almost dizzy, but I flung him off and onto his back. I wanted to taste that cock. I wanted it on my tongue, I wanted my mouth full of it. I got his pants off and wrapped my hands around it. He reached for my hips, and pulled me to his face. On the way, he got buried between my breasts. He licked and sucked and squeezed them, but I wanted that cock. I wriggled down so his cock was was caressed and compressed in my cleavage. He moaned and gasped. I pushed my breasts together and he moaned again.
     
    The tip of his tongue was stretching at the flimsy knickers, hunting expertly for the right course, sliding around, and up, flicking, teasing. His hands came to the tops of my stockings, and pulled be to his mouth. Now my lips could reach his cock, and there was so much I wanted to do there, but