The Lion

Gemma’s pulse leapt in her throat. She took a long pull from the cold beer to steady her nerves. Even after all these years together, it still made her stomach flip when he came back from these semi-annual fishing trips.

“Hey, babe,” Brice said, a big grin evident in his voice. “You won’t believe what happened to Rich this weekend. So we were all on the boat and–” He stopped in the kitchen doorway. “Wow. You look amazing. You’re,  um… you’ve got a sundress on.”

He swallowed hard, making the small knot of his Adam’s Apple bob in his throat. Exactly the reaction she wanted.

“Oh, yeah,” she said calmly, smoothing out invisible wrinkles along her waist and over her hips, tracing the shape of the conveniently printed pink orchids on her breasts. “It was too hot for jeans and a t-shirt so I had to wear this.”

His eyes obediently followed her hands over the wispy white material. “We have a/c…”

Not many things stole her otherwise articulate husband’s words. But seeing her in a sundress always did. Every since that first summer when he pulled her behind the garage and fucked her against the wall while everyone else watched fireworks. That night he accidentally ripped the strap of her sundress but it was so raw and carnal and damned sexy, she gave him full permission to tear any future sundress off her. Sundresses were not worn very often.

“I was just about to have a beer on the deck,” she said. “Wanna come?”

A devil’s grin tugged at the corners of his mouth, sinking that damned sexy dimple into his cheek.

“Fuck, yes, I do,” he said, closing the short distance between them. His hands slid around her waist yanking her close to his body. “But only after you’ve come for me.”

“No one said anything about that kind of coming, you horny beast,” she said smirking. Her fingertips grazed along his scruffy jaw. “I only offered you a beer.”

He looked utterly fuckable with a little bit of a tan, it made his green eyes almost glow. She just wanted to shove her tongue in his mouth, and dig her nails in his bare shoulders and back, as she rode him. But that’s not how this power control game was played. She wanted the lion, not the lazy house cat.

He reached around her, grabbing the bottle of beer. Her breath caught in her throat. Dear God, he smelled incredible. He always had that warmed male skin and woods scent when he came back from his trip. That very sinful mouth of his was only millimeters from her neck. Surely he could see her racing pulse in her jugular? He brought the bottle to his lips.

“That’s mine, you know,” she said, rubbing her barely clad pussy harder against him. Her clit jumped against the seam of his pants.

He chuckled. “The beer or my cock?”

“Um… the beer… no both.”

Jesus, that didn’t sound at all sexy.

“They’re both all yours,” he murmured against her throat. “But first I’d rather have something to eat.” He set the bottle down, touching his cool lips to the soft spot under her ear.

Her whole body twitched and she sucked in a sharp gasp. Liquid heat flashed through her body.

“There’s, um… stuff in the fridge-”

“Nope. I want something hot, juicy, and soft to eat.”

“I could cook something,” she said, breathless. Her fingers came up to the back of his short dark hair and tugged on the longer strands on top. 

Gemma wasn’t a virginal ninny; she knew exactly what he meant. But she wanted to hear him say it. She loved it when Brice said primal dirty things to her.

“Maybe later,” he growled, nipping at her jugular. His calloused hand slid further up dress, his fingers hooking in the waistband of her panties. “I don’t want food, I want to eat your sweet little pussy.”

Her whole body tingled with excitement, she was dying to have his tongue buried between her thighs but he wasn’t nearly aroused enough. He was still rational. She gripped his bicep, gently pushing him away. Her fingernails grazed up his shoulders under the sleeves of his t-shirt. A little move she knew gave him goosebumps and drove him crazy.

“And if I said no?”

A hint of panic flashed in his bright green eyes. His jaw clenched, his daring hands stopped dead on her hips. 

“Then I’d be off to a very icy shower with aching balls, would’t I?”

She traced a finger down the V where his throat met his clavicle, feeling his racing pulse beneath her fingertip. He swallowed again but remained frozen. The hell if she was going to tell him to stop. But that didn’t mean he didn’t have to work for it.

“And if I said yes?” she said, smirking.

“Then I’ll tear this fucking dress off you, bury my mouth and fingers in your cunt until you come so hard, you can’t breath,” he said, the demand in his deep voice grabbing her attention more than the fingers gripping her hips. “Then I’ll bend you over this island and turn those very soft ass cheeks a nice warm shade of pink for toying with me.” He leaned in closer, dropping his voice to a dark octave. “Finally I’ll fuck that pretty little pussy of yours until my name is the only word coming out of your mouth.”

There’s the lion she needed.

Her breath caught, her eyes widened, blood turned to lava in her veins. Her fingers clenched in his hair, eliciting a growl. Gemma had never felt so invigorated and alive so utterly female as she did in that moment. One word and all of his tension and strength could either be squashed or released.

She pressed her breasts into his chest and flicked the tip of her tongue against his bottom lip. 


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