Sunday Snog

It's Sunday Snog time - this week a sexy kiss from my new novel Accelerated Passion which hits the shelves tomorrow.....

Lover!

Frankie shook her head. “No. I...”

“You feel it, too. I know you do. Between us.” Dean tugged her a little closer. Their knees touched. “There’s a connection of minds.”

Fuck minds. What about his eyes? If ever she’d seen come-to-bed eyes, Dean Cudditch had them. It would be so easy to strip and get sweaty and dirty with him. Take some much-needed satisfaction from his sexy, hard, and toned body.

She glanced at the door again.

“Don’t go,” he said in such a husky tone, her belly clenched and a pulse of arousal shot to her clit.

“Stay...with me.” He ran his hand up to her elbow. “Please.”

“But...” She was running out of arguments even in her own head.

He pushed his other hand through her hair and clasped the back of her neck, drew her nearer so their noses were just a whisper apart.

His touch, the feel of him against her skin. Like earlier, at the pits, when he’d kissed her. It made rational thought fly out of the window. Everything, everyone, the universe, it all faded into the distance—somewhere so distant she didn’t even know if it existed any more.

“Frankie,” he murmured. “Stay.”

He pressed his lips to hers. Unlike at the track, it was a soft, gentle kiss even though his hold on her was once again firm and determined.

She fluttered her eyes shut. Loving the feel of his mouth covering hers, the texture of his lips, the slight scrape of his stubble on her chin.

He slanted his head, deepened the kiss, and touched his tongue to hers.

She tried to hold in a small moan of desire but it eased from her throat and into her mouth.

The sound seemed to spur Dean on, and he released her wrist and wrapped his arm around her waist.

Next thing she knew, she was on the soft bed, still being kissed. The weight of him, half over her, pressing on her, made her nipples tighten and her body arch toward him.

Was this really happening? Damn it, the reality was better than any dream.

She slid her hand over his shoulders, absorbing the heat of him, learning the contours of his back and smoothing down the gutter of his spine.

“You taste so sweet,” he murmured then resumed kissing her in a way that told her he had no intention of stopping anytime soon.

She sighed into it and ran her hand over his hair. It was sharp on the upstroke, smooth when she stroked downward to his neck.

He was busy with his hands, too. He undid the belt on her robe and pushed the material aside, exposing her vest top and a tiny pair of white knickers.

He broke the kiss and glanced down. “Fuck, you’re something else.”

She followed his line of sight. Her nipples were poking at the material of her top and her flat stomach slightly exposed. The color of her underwear made her skin look more tanned than it was.

“I’ve been thinking about doing this,” he whispered then kissed over her cheek and down the column of her neck.

“Mmm...” She bent her right leg and pressed it against his thigh. The feel of his jeans on her bare flesh turned her on all the more. “Dean.”

“Frankie,” he murmured, slipping his hand beneath her top. He slid upward and cupped her breast.

She wasn’t a big-chested girl but very sensitive. She pushed into his touch, wanting more.

He trapped her nipple between his fingers then ducked. Through the cotton, he sucked the hard peak.

“Oh, yeah...” She gasped and squirmed.

He switched attention to the other breast and suckled that one.

The heat of his mouth, the pinch of his fingers was like a hotwire to her pussy. She was getting damp, arousal generating a pulsing sensation in her clit.

Dean slithered down the bed, kissing her as he went. He dipped his tongue into her navel.

She pressed her head into the pillow, clasped him over the ears. Drew her legs up and around his wide body.

“Relax,” he murmured, his breath hot on her skin. “And enjoy.” As he’d spoken, he’d gripped the waistband of her panties. He tugged them down and off.

She was aware of cool air on her hot pussy. He was between her legs, spreading her thighs wide.

Again, she looked at him.

He was half on, half off the bed. His focus on her most intimate folds. He was still dressed, yet she was practically naked, bared open, wet, panting for it.

What the hell was she doing?

A bolt of panic shot through her. Her heart did a weird flip, and her ears rung.

She couldn’t do this.

He’d placed his hands on her inner thighs, was leaning in, clearly planning on tasting her, working on her with his mouth and tongue.

No.

She scooted upward and clamped her legs together, giving him a whack on the shoulder with her foot as she did so.

“Frankie?” he said, surprise flashing over his face. “What—?”

“I can’t. I can’t, okay?” She dragged her robe closed, covering her nakedness and the damp patches on her breasts.

“But... I thought you wanted to.” He stroked his palm over her shin

“I do. I did, but you’re the driver, and I’m a mechanic. It’s not right.”

Of course Frankie can't resist Dean for long, who could? To read the whole novel grab it from Amazon, Amazon UK and ARe - also available for pre-order.