Skin Tight (Skin Deep #4)

Skin Tight (Skin Deep #4) Page 32

She kept swearing and calling herself a klutz as she wiped it off, but eventually our snickers gave it away and she flicked a spoonful of whipped cream at Calland’s face. He ducked, of course, causing the cream to splatter on the wall behind him.

I guess it was only right that Mom made Calland clean up the mess…but then she could only stand there and laugh while shaking her head when he called D.J. over, hefted him into his arms, and let the dog lick the mess off the wall.

My family hung out for a while after everything was cleared away and the leftovers divvyed up, until Jenna and Noah took the kids and headed to Noah’s parents’ house for their Thanksgiving dinner. Since we didn’t have anywhere else to go, Ian and I went home while the rest of my siblings scattered to do whatever else they had planned.

When we got home, I changed into comfy clothes and collapsed onto the couch, reaching for the remote. Ian grabbed it before I could, though.

“Hey, give that back,” I said, half-heartedly.

He waved it in the air and said, “Come get it.”

“Meh. I’m too lazy. Anything good on?”

He flipped through channels before answering. “That would be a negative. Want to watch a movie?”

Since we had nothing else pressing to do (besides the fact that I needed to clean Gerry’s cage out since he was home with me on Thanksgiving vacation), I agreed, and that’s just what we did. When the first movie was over, Ian stretched his arms up and blinked at me in the darkness of the room. We hadn’t bothered to turn any lights on, and night was falling outside.

“Damn. I didn’t realize that movie was so long.”

“I didn’t either. Oh well, though. Perfect end to the day, don’t you think? Lazing around watching movies…and we’ve got plenty of leftovers if you’re hungry.”

“Nah. I think I’m still full. Maybe a snack here in a little bit. What now, another movie?” he asked me, kicking back in the recliner once more.

“Sure. I need wine first though.” I hopped up and headed for the kitchen, just the remembering the unopened bottle of ice wine I had in the fridge. Once I was looking in the fridge, though, the strawberries we’d bought a couple days ago were staring me in the face, so I decided that those needed to go with me, too.

Before I was done, I’d had to grab a cookie sheet as a make-shift tray to cart my movie watching spread into the living room.

Ian glanced at me as I walked by him and then did a very noticeable double-take. “Holy shit! I thought you were just getting some wine?”

I grinned sheepishly. “I was. Then I saw the strawberries and they looked good, so I grabbed them. Then I remembered I had chocolate fruit dip for them, and you know strawberries are best with chocolate, so when I got that out, I saw the whipped cream. That’s a no brainer. So, I guess I was hungry.”

I shrugged and then slid the makeshift tray onto the coffee table, sitting cross-legged on the floor behind it, and leaned back against the couch.

“And the pineapple?” Ian asked, conversationally once I was settled.

“It looked good. Don’t judge me!” I popped the lid off the can of whipped cream and grabbed a plump, ripe berry, holding it up while I squirted it with a perfectly spiraled dollop. “Want one?”

He declined, but he did come lay behind me on the couch, so in between bites and sips of wine, I’d lean my head down on his chest and he’d play idly with my hair as we watched the movie.

By the time the movie was over, I’d put a decent dent in the fruit, and the bottle of wine was empty, (In my defense, bottles of ice wine are smaller than normal!) and I was feeling pretty mellow, especially when Ian’s hands started roaming.

I moaned at his touch, my head dropping down against his chest again, but then his fingers slid into my hair and pulled my head up once more. He shifted, leaning close enough to capture my lips with his in a soft, barely there kiss.

His tongue darted out and probed the seam of my lips, slipping deftly inside to tangle with mine when I parted my lips to allow him entry.

“Mmm…” he whispered against my mouth. “You taste good. Sweet and fruity. Do you taste like that everywhere?” he asked, his lips caressing mine softly with every word.

Breathless, I answered, “Maybe you should find out.”

I’d meant the words as a joke…a tease…but that’s just what he did.

Chapter 19

Ian’s hands made short work of my clothes until I was laid bare on the floor, the carpet’s usual softness feeling almost rough against my highly-sensitized skin. He shoved the coffee table out of the way, but I had my wits about me enough to noticed that he’d grabbed the can of whipped cream before he did, tossing it on the couch beside him.

He knelt beside me and used his hands to part my thighs, sliding them up and down and around in a teasing caress until I was spread wide, every inch of me open to his heated gaze. He licked his lips and I shivered, the sight immediately bringing thoughts of those lips, that tongue on me…in me…to my mind.

Ian’s voice was low, gravelly with lust when he said, “What are you shivering for, baby? Are you cold?”

I shook my head, my breathing coming in pants as he peppered my open thighs with tiny, fluttering kisses and quick, sharp nips of his teeth, both ramping up the want flooding my core until it was almost unbearable. “Please,” I whimpered, gasping when he pressed an open mouthed kiss to the bare flesh of my mound, just above that aching, hardened nub begging for his attention.

“Is this what you want?” he breathed against my skin, the tip of his tongue flicking out to trace one tiny circle around my clit, so softly I could barely feel it.

My hips arched up, begging him silently to give me more, but he pulled away. I cried out, but my dismay was short lived when he moved back over me almost immediately, the can of whipped cream in his hands and a wicked gleam in his eyes.

“Oooh…” The helpless sound escaped my lips at the feel of the chilled cream against my heated skin.

Ian squirted a line of whipped cream across the top of my sex, then added two more dots, this time on top of each of my turgid nipples. Without missing a beat, he tossed the can away from him and leaned over my body, taking one whipped cream coated nipple in his mouth, sucking and licking away the sweetness before subjecting the other one to the same treatment.

Once they were clean, he kissed down my stomach and closed his mouth over me, whipped cream and all. He ate at me voraciously, alternately sucking my clit into his mouth and flicking his tongue over it until I was writhing against his face. He gripped my hips with his hands, trying to hold me still, and plunged his tongue deep inside my entrance, fucking me with long sure strokes.

“Oh my God! Oh, fuck…” I screamed out, my hands fisting in his hair and pulling his face tighter into my sex, thrusting my hips up and fucking his face wildly as he continued to spear his tongue into me. I could feel my release rushing up, an epic wave of sensation towering over my body, poised and ready to crash over me, drown me, completely take me under.

Ian slid his tongue up through my folds and unerringly found my clit, sucking it between his lips and nipping it gently but firmly, and the wave broke. I came on a keening cry, my hands clenching so tightly in Ian’s hair that I knew I had to be hurting him, but I couldn’t stop. He kept up the exquisite torture, wringing desperate cries from my lips until I was a quivering mess, begging him to stop, even though my hands told a different story, still holding him close as I ground my hips up into his mouth, and even then, he didn’t stop he’d lapped up every last drop of my release.