His tongue lapped over her bottom lip, and she parted for him, welcoming him in. He moved slowly, but there was nothing tentative about his technique—the stroke of his tongue was warm and strong. Probing. Insistent. He kissed her with a deliberateness that had her moaning into his mouth not just from the sensation but from the possibilities they opened up for her.

Oh, the things that tongue could probably do.

Jamal’s hand moved over her thighs and rested at the curve of her hip, grasping a handful of her sweatshirt as he finally kissed her full-on without reservation. A sharp, delicious pressure thrummed between her legs and she slid farther onto his lap, returning his kiss as well as she could.

There was no trace of the bumbling Jamal who hadn’t even known which knife to use to cut a loaf of bread at the Institute. His hands and mouth and body moved with assurance, with finesse. Apparently there was at least one thing he was really, really good at.

She pressed her body against his, reveling in the solid feel of him.

“Ledi,” he breathed into her mouth, and holy shit, no one had ever said her name like that. Like she was oxygen and he was desperate for it. “I want to touch you. Badly. Can I touch you?”

That was when she realized she was likely in over her head. Because she was already lost in a haze of sensation, ready to risk it all, and Jamal had barely put his hands on her.

Double fuck.

“Definitely. Yes. Go for it.”

She’d barely gotten the words out when the hand that had been bunched in her sweatshirt tugged harder. The fabric that had rested provocatively on the swells of her shoulders all day slid down her arms. He pulled until the fabric was taut over her aching breasts, the friction of it both restricting and teasing until finally the soft cups of her bra were revealed. The new position of the shirt forced her arms to her sides with just enough pressure to hold them there, and for some reason Ledi’s response was a clench of the pussy and an unprecedented gush of moisture that she hoped wouldn’t seep through her jeans.

Jamal ran his fingertips down the nape of her neck, over her exposed shoulders. He traced his finger over her jawline, her collarbone, and she moaned and arched her back, greedy for the touch that left sparks of sensation in its wake.

“Do you like that?”

When his hand stopped moving, she looked up at him and realized he was asking a question, not just making idle dirty talk to fill the silence. His gaze was hot and intense, and she almost closed her eyes against the feeling it caused in her chest.

“Yes. I like it,” she said quickly, because she wanted his hands moving again, wanted the distraction of a sensation that wasn’t this pressure beneath her rib cage that she hoped was heartburn.

“Brilliant,” Jamal said. His thumbs brushed over her hard nipples through the soft fabric of her bra. She expected him to lunge, to get right to it like so many of the men she’d been with, but he moved so slowly that after a moment Ledi wanted to scream with frustrated pleasure. His gaze was locked on hers as he brushed and squeezed and twisted, like he was calibrating her to the right frequency, one that left her gasping and trembling for him. Waves of pleasure rolled through her as he alternated soft brushes with hard pinches.

He wasn’t driving her crazy because of lack of technique; that was the technique.

“Oh god.”

She squirmed in his lap, scooting herself right up against the erection that tented his pants. If he was searching for the right frequency, she’d found his antenna; the length of it pressed up against her through his jeans, twitching and hardening in response to her soft cries as he teased her to the point of insanity with his hands. Her arms were still against her sides, but she could move her ass and she did, gliding it over the length of him.

Jamal hissed and rocked up against her, but both of his hands were busy with her breasts. His fingertips traced the cheap material edging her bra reverently, making her feel as if she was decked out in lace and silk instead. He hooked an index finger in each cup, pulling them down and exposing her.

“So lovely,” he said, hefting the weight of each breast in his hands. Then he bent down. He lapped at one breast, and then the other, the strokes of his tongue alternating between punishment and adoration. He licked and sucked, and when she thought she couldn’t stand any more, he brushed the rough hairs of his beard over her sensitive nipples.

“Oh fuck.” Her voice was strained, caught between a scream and a whisper as sensation threatened to overwhelm her. Ledi pressed her chest up toward his torturous beard, then away, then back up, as if her body couldn’t decide what was worse: the excess of pleasure or the lack of it.

His hands slid up behind her back, holding her in place now as he teased her with tongue and lips and beard. His hard length pressed against the seam of her jeans, as he worked his hips.

“Oh fuck!” Pleasure threaded through her, spreading over her body and pulling tight until she was caught in the web of her desire for him. She wanted to touch him, but her arms were pinned against her sides. Her ass ground against his groin though, and if she stretched her fingers she could stroke the confined length of him through his jeans.

“Mmm.” The sound rumbled out of him and his head dropped back as he ground up against her hand. She was just getting a hold of him through his jeans, but then he shifted his hips so that he was just out of reach of her hands.

“I’m taking care of you tonight, remember?” he asked.