He was holding back.
For her.
She opened to him, giving him more, and he tasted her with a hunger that made her moan. His hand slid down from her hair to her waist, pulling her closer to him. His hard length of him pressed into her stomach and the bold display jolted desire deep into her body. She ran her hands up his chest, feeling the thick, well-used muscles under his shirt. He was so strong, so powerful, and yet he was gentle with her, as if she was something precious he didn't want to break.
Finally, he tore his lips away from hers, panting heavily.
“Fuck, I feel out of control,” he whispered, his voice rough with longing.
“It’s okay. I want you.”
It was the truth. She’d never wanted anyone or anything this much.
He growled low in his throat, then lifted her off her feet, tucking her legs around his waist, and carried her through the garage to his office.
The door had barely shut behind him when he had her propped up on the desk, sweater up yanked up, his head bowed against her chest.
“Fuck, I’m getting you all greasy, Mon. I’m sorry.” But he was still vibrating with tension, all keyed up. He didn’t sound sorry. He sounded desperate and needy. Angry, almost, but not with her.
“I don’t care. Touch me." She squirmed in his grasp. She needed to feel his hands on her bare skin.
"I'm seriously filthy. I—”
“Josh, I need you. It’s okay.”
"Help me, then. Give me your tits. Pull 'em out."
She yanked the bra cups down and his mouth descended, sucking hard on one nipple, then the other.
She gasped, her head falling back.
“Please,” he begged, his voice rough. “Give me more.”
He probably meant her clothes, he wanted them off, he wanted more skin. But she wanted him naked, too. So she started with his shirt. She lifted it up and over his head. As soon as he was bare chested, she leaned in and kissed him right where his big, fierce, protective heart was. He hissed.
She hummed her approval, liking him this undone and desperate.
She stripped off her own sweater next, dropping it somewhere on the floor, then her bra followed. Finally, she tugged his hands to her waist, settling them on her skin. Hoping he got her greasy, hoping it would imprint on her skin like a tattoo.
Reverently, his scooped his hands higher, around her ribs and up to her breasts, where her nipples were still wet from his mouth. He stopped well short of them, only cupping her so his mouth could descend again. She arched her back, pressing into his touch as his teeth sank into her skin, then his lips soothed the sting of those gentle bites.
She was on fire, burning from the inside out. So close, so ready, she could come right then, just from the heavy throb of his cock pressing the seam of her jeans up against her clit, and him cupping her breasts to his hungry mouth.
But it wasn't what they both needed.
"Josh." His name was a throaty moan spilling from her lips. “Naked. Now.”
As if caught in a spell, she watched him unzip her jeans, push them down, and catch low on her hips.
"Show me how much you need me," he said huskily. "Show me where you want me."
Hands shaking, Monica reached down and pulled her panties aside.
He unzipped his own jeans, then laughed. “Fucking too many clothes. Wanted to fold you in half, but you can’t hold your panties to the side and get my cock where we need it, can you?”
She joined him, giggling as she let go of her panties and shoved her jeans all the way off.
He reached for her panties and she waved him off. “These have to stay clean-ish. I only have two pairs.”
