“Well, I’m not.”
“Then tell me where your damn room is.”
“Down the hallway,” I finally answer, smiling like a horny fool. “Second door on the right.”
With one strong sweep, he hoists me up, forcing my legs around his waist. The world seems to tilt and spin as his feet stumble toward the hallway leading to my room. It’s my home, my hardwood floor and recessed lighting guiding us, but it doesn’t feel like any part of this moment is mine. Andrew takes control in a way that I don’t even need to remember my own name. He leans into the slightly open door with his back. And then there’s my bed, cloaked in shadows, stashing away the neat, orderly state of my room and replacing it with the racy, wanton dungeon I’ve been dragged into. There might as well be a large billboard hanging above it that reads “SEX HERE.” Because we’re going to have sex. There’s no question about it.
He still has me in his arms when he climbs on the cushy comforter covering my bed. Over the stark white duvet cover, one knee after the other. He lays me down gently, lowering me so I sink rather than plop. I watch him reach back behind his shoulders and slip his T-shirt over his head, the last of the layers separating us. I see more tattoos lining his ribcage and chest, and he sees me eye them. He gives me the time to study the lines and curves, the details I trace with my fingertips.
“You like them, huh?”
“Didn’t think I would, but yeah. They look nice,” I admit.
He smirks a devilish smile, and I have a sudden urge to taunt him. Meet his smug smirk with something just as haughty and arrogant. I don’t get a chance to, of course, because when he hovers over me, I forget all about his cheeky grin. All I see are his hooded lids, zoning in on my lips as a soft sigh squeezes throughthem. But he’s just a hairbreadth too far away for a kiss. It’s a tease, to provoke or torment me, I don’t know. So I tug his torso closer using his silver chain. And the resulting kiss leaves me breathless.
“I didn’t think I liked jewelry on men either, but here we are,” I whisper through small gasps, hoping I sound as light and airy as my words.
My hands fumble with his belt and the zipper. My legs part, my knees falling open, while I reach into his pants. It sounds crass, but the only way I can explain what I feel is ample andpacked. “Jesus, you’re going to have to spend some time getting me ready if you plan to shove that thing inside of me.”
“You make it sound like that’d be a chore for me.” His lips meet the hollow space below my ear, and I feel his fingers go low. Past my dress and nudging aside my panties. “But judging by how wet you already are, I don’t think it’s going to take much.”
He strokes his fingers, moving like he’s carefully learning every crease and ridge. He does it with an intensely rapt intellect. Like he’s going to be tested later, and he’d have to pick out my pussy in a blind lineup. And I hope he aces it. With flying colors. With his free hand, his occupied one remaining diligent elsewhere, he peels off the rest of my dress. Again, with an intentional deliberation almost as if it’s too overwhelming for him to rip it all off, and an inch at a time is all he can handle.
The impatience starts to claw at my chest. I want nothing between me and him. I want bare skin against bare skin. My arms slip out of the sleeves with urgency, and I discard the low-back ligature that masqueraded as a bra, the only piece of undergarment that worked with this dress.
“Enthusiastic, are we?” he asks as my bra lands on the floor with a soft thunk. His words are playful, but his eyes flare with heat as he takes in my bare chest.
“Shut up,” I shoot back.
His response, though as effective as a cocksure retort, is his studious finger pushed inside me. I might as well sign over my soul to him. I feel everything tense and seize when he trails his kisses down my bare chest. He pulls my nipple into his mouth, letting his tongue rouse me, and I don’t remember ever feeling anything this satisfying in my entire life.
“Holyshit.”
“That’s it, Grace,” he coaxes, feeling my body respond to his touch. “Just relax, baby. Relax.” His thumb against my clit has my eyes rolling to the back of my head, and my nails rake down his back. The fog in my mind creates a dreamy cloud of ecstasy, and I can’t even shift my thoughts to worry if I’ve drawn blood.
“Ohhhmy fucking god,” I exclaim. “Ho–how are you so good at that?” My voice falls desperately, the sheer volume of it growing and amplifying within the walls that encase us in this moment. A moment we both know we can’t revisit in the future.
He doesn’t acknowledge my unintended flattery. He doesn’t chuckle a pompous laugh with a smug smile or a victory pose. Instead, determination flares his nostrils, and I feel myself tensing. He smothers my lips with his, swallowing the sounds coming from me as if that was his whole purpose. He patiently lets my orgasm tear through me, and it spreads all the way to my fucking toes.Jesus, if he can make me come like this with his fingers, I can’t imagine what his dick can do.
“Do you have a condom?” he suddenly asks.
“Yeah, yeah,” I answer, a flash of clarity in my lust-filled mind. In the blur of our tryst, I’d forgotten to think about protection. I point to my nightstand. “Bottom drawer.”
He stretches his body, leaning over the edge of my bed. I hear some rustling, things being shuffled around, until he finally finds one and holds it up proudly. He helps me take the rest of my dress off before pulling off his pants. Undergarments come off, and the condom slips on, all happening under the shadowsthat make me feel like maybe I don’t need to worry about the aftereffects of tonight. It’s just sex, right? No need to make it a big deal.
He settles over me, our bare, naked bodies finally flush against each other. He scoops his hand under one of my thighs and loops his forearm under my knee. I know at this angle, he’ll hit spots that’ll make me see stars. But he doesn’t fuck me quite yet. Instead, he edges me. All the way to the brink. He runs his cock up and down the wet heat between my legs, continuing his tease and holding firm on his promise to make sure I’m as ready as possible.
I watch him continue this push and pull to the threshold of my sanity, and I realize how his own control is slipping right through his fingers. I hear a groan rumble in his chest, his head hanging between his shoulders, and the muscles chording his neck strain. And I start to become obsessed with throwing him right off the edge and going right alongside him.
I buck my hips into him, testing him. Wanting to know what his limits are. And to let him know I’m ready. I’m so fucking ready. He grunts, quickly hiding it with a peck to the inside of my knee. He trails wet, open-mouthed kisses up my thigh, stopping those intimate touches with a harsh bite like he’s become an absolute animal.
“Ow.”
He smiles. “I’m sorry. Did I hurt you?”
“You bit me.”
He smiles again, laughing through my accusation. But my annoyance dies the second he pushes into me.
