Girl Gear 4: Striptease by Alison Kent

time when he moved, he leaned his head forward, his hand cupping her nape as his lips drew within millimeters of hers. “Melanie?”
    “Hmm?” she hummed back, feeling the warmth of his breath and his body, smelling his clean hot skin, wanting desperately to taste him.
    “Can I have you?” he whispered.
    She gave an imperceptible nod because she didn’t trust what was left of her voice to get the job done. “As long as I can have you.”
    He leaned into her body then, touching her the way she’d wanted to be touched since he’d hovered at her back and beside her that day in the church. With his palms flat on the door above her shoulders, he brushed his lips from her ear to her temple and down her cheekbone.
    Her eyelids fluttered shut and she raised her chin, giving him access to her neck. He took it, nipping lightly at her skin until she finally slipped her fingers beneath his waistband, urging him closer.
    She felt every tremor of the groan that rolled up his throat. “Melanie?”
    “Jacob?” She blew her answering question softly over his ear.
    A shudder ripped through him. “You sure this is what you want?”
    “I’m sure it’s what I want right now.”
    He hesitated, then ground out, “And that’s enough?”
    “You tell me,” she answered, her head turning and her open mouth moving toward his throat.
    He stood still and let her explore his skin with her tongue, let her nip her way along the resilient flesh of his shoulder, let her leave a trail of tiny damp kisses beneath his collarbone. His skin was salty and wonderfully warm. And she wanted to taste more. To feast. To feed the hunger he’d driven her to feel.
    She tingled and ached but not nearly enough. Not completely. Not in the way she wanted, the way his eyes and the sounds he’d made promised to provide. So when he backed away from her mouth and all the fun she was having, it was all she could do not to scream.
    “Why did you make that tape?” He glared at her, his chest heaving.
    “Because your tape pissed me off,” she answered, breathing equally hard.
    “That wasn’t what I intended.”
    She didn’t care that he seemed contrite. “Then your intentions fell short, didn’t they?”
    “You say that like you know what they were.”
    She didn’t care that he appeared defensive. “Does it matter?”
    “I thought so at the time.”
    She didn’t care that he looked put out. “And now?”
    “Now I don’t want to talk about it.”
    All she cared about was getting him out of his clothes. “Why’s that? You can’t talk and fuck at the same time?”
    He took a moment before he answered, a moment in which Melanie’s frustration reached an unbearable height. A moment in which she panicked, wondering if she’d actually pushed him too far. Goading was so much more palatable than begging, but right now, herewith this man, she wasn’t above getting down on her knees.
    He ran a fingertip from her temple to her jaw, her chin and down her neck to her chest, where he drew a line back and forth along the scoop edge of her tank top. “Are you sure talking is what you really want me to do with my mouth?”
    Finally! “I’d rather you shut up and show me what you can do with your tongue.”
    His face but inches from hers, he reached for the front fastenings to her khaki shorts. Melanie reached behind her and locked the door, praying everyone wanting to swim had already changed, because Jacob had opened the fly of her shorts and was now on his knees blowing warm breath on her belly. Her eyes rolled back and she closed them as the air-conditioned chill hit more and more of her skin.
    She shivered from the cold, from the hot touch of Jacob’s fingers where they drifted down her inner thighs. He was even better at taking off her clothes than she was, slowly slipping her shorts down her legs, his hands and mouth following the downward path, tickling, teasing, tasting her skin.
    She blew out several short, panting breaths, her hands splayed flat