"Not yet," he murmured, moving lower, rimming my navel with the tip of his tongue. "You're not ready yet."
"What? Ah, God…I can't get any readier." I tugged on his hair, trying to pull him up.
James caught my wrists and pinned them to the mattress. "You have a tight little cunt, Emmy. I'll bruise you if I don't get you soft and relaxed."
A violent shiver of arousal moved through me. It turned me on when he talked so bluntly about sex. Then he slid lower and I tensed. "No, James. I need to shower for that."
He buried his face in my cleft and I struggled against his hold, flushed with sudden shame. He nipped at my inner thigh with his teeth. "Stop it."
"Don't. Please. You don't have to do that."
His glare stilled my frantic movements. "Do you think I feel differently about your body than you do mine?" he asked harshly. "I want you, Emmy."
