“Take your clothes off,” I beg as he climbs over me, his hands on either side of my head, his body hovering over mine. God, he’s huge and warm and consuming and…everything.
“You’re cute when you beg.” He nips my bottom lip. “But no. Not yet. Not until I get a taste of this sweet cunt again.”
He trails kisses down my neck, then sucks a nipple into his mouth. Once he’s thoroughly ravaged that one, he moves to the other. I’m writhing, hands buried in his hair, when he finally works his way lower. As his breath fans against my stomach, my skin pebbles and my back arches. The warmth in my core has heated to a full boil, every nerve ending hypersensitive.
When he finally reaches his destination, he drapes my legs over his shoulders and settles in. A lazy flick of his tongue over my clit has my back bowing off the bed.
“So responsive.” He rubs his fingers over my slick opening, then slides them inside, his focus fixed solely on my center, his eyes widening as I tighten around him. “God, look at you.”
He presses a firm hand on my pubic bone to keep me from wiggling. But I can’t help it. My body is primed, set to chase the orgasm already building.
“Patience,” he croons. “I promise I’ll make it worth the wait.”
I growl out my frustration. I’vebeenpatient. We’ve been tiptoeing around this moment for weeks.
He works his mouth against me and all thought melts away. My hands are in his hair again, fingers raking over his scalp, tugging the strands, holding on with all I’ve got. The moan he lets out in response is hands-down the sexiest sound I’ve ever heard. It’s powerful, the realization that going down on me turns him on.
It doesn’t take long for my orgasm to crest. It’s within reach, growing, on the precipice, when he stops.
The sensation ebbs quickly as his tongue and fingers disappear. “What are you doing?” I protest, my voice laced with annoyance.
He works his pants down his legs, and at the sight of a tattoo on his upper right thigh, all my frustration evaporates. It’s so… unexpected. Caleb is a clean-cut kind of guy. The small tattoo on his arm is one thing, but high on his thigh like this? I never would have guessed. But there it is, and it’s beautiful. An intricate tangle of vines and flowers with a single butterfly.
“I didn’t know you had that,” I blurt, pointing at it.
He chuckles, kicking his pants out of the way. “You never asked.”
“Is there meaning behind it?”
“Nah. Just thought it looked cool.”
Laughter bubbles out of me unexpectedly. Caleb doesn’t strike me as the kind of man who’d do anything just because he thinks it looks cool, especially mark his body permanently. But the evidence is right there in front of me.
I hum. “Is there a little bit of rebel lurking under all those button-down shirts?”
Snorting, he grabs my ankle, pulling me farther down the bed. “It’s the tattoo that makes you think that? Not my stress smoking?”
Honestly, I’d forgotten about that.
He doesn’t expect an answer, evidenced by the way he leans down and kisses me until my breath is gone.
I slip my hand between us, sliding it past the waistband of his boxer briefs and wrapping it around his length. Jesus, he’s thick and so, so hard.
“Halle,” he grits out.
In response, I work my hand up and down his shaft.
“Fuck.” The word is a long drawl. “Baby, I—” The muscles in his neck go taut and he closes his eyes. “Fuck, I’m embarrassingly close to coming. Hold on a minute, babe.”
He pulls away from me, sitting up on his knees. I mewlin protest at the loss of him. He’s only gone long enough to grab a brand-new box of condoms and rip the top open. He passes me a single foil wrapper, then tosses the box to the head of the mattress.
He takes the packet from my fumbling fingers with a grin. “Nervous, love?”
I shake my head, and his smile only grows as he rips it open and pulls out the condom.
“Liar.”
Once he’s sheathed, he lines himself up with my center. I expect him to take it slow, to tease me. Instead, he slides in with purpose, gliding easily against my slick channel.
