That didn’t get him to back away. “I’m very serious about your pleasure.”
My body insisted that was good enough. My mind was not convinced I wouldn’t get hurt when I moved away and Teller didn’t ask me to stay. Yet, at this moment, I didn’t want long term. Short-term pleasure sounded fantastic. “What about you?” I was stalling, but I also wasn’t saying no.
He chuckled, the rumble pleasing and deep. “Getting you off would very much be my pleasure.” He placed a light kiss at the corner of my mouth. I was still leaning back, my weight on my hands behind me, afraid to grip his shoulders, or I’d cling to him like Saran Wrap. “Hearing those needy moans would very much stroke my ego. Discovering how wet you are for me? Very pleasing. Tasting you? An orgasm for my tongue.”
My disbelief rose. “Getting me off would be enough for you?” I scoffed. I definitely wasn’t asking to buy myself time, to reach the point where I was strong enough to push him away and say no. He was fooling himself.
Each second that had ticked by only brought the realization that I did not want to reject this man. In fact, that was the bulk of my issue. I had never wanted to push him away. I’d been wishing he’d close the distance the whole time.
He pulled back enough to narrow his eyes on me. For a moment, I wished a spotlight glared down on us so I could see the glittering of his dark eyes and determine whether he was lying to get into my pants. Men took what they wanted from others to feel good. Teller was no different.
This wasn’t the time to remember that Damien was my only gauge for what men wanted. Him, my cheating dad, and a line of men doing stupid things for my ex-sister-in-law.
“Hearing you cry out because I brought you to orgasm would be enough.” He placed a tender kiss on the other corner of my mouth. “Don’t get me wrong, I would love to take things further. I want to bury myself deep inside of you, but only to heighten your pleasure and to know what you feel like coming from the inside out. But I’d go to bed happy with nothing but your cries in my ears.”
A shudder racked my body. I couldn’t take this man. His words made me swoon. I feared the power of his tongue. “I don’t believe it.”
“Let me prove it,” he whispered and touched his lips to mine.
His kiss was light, but I surged up into him, hungry for more, starving to taste him.
He growled and wrapped an arm around me. My ass slid to the edge of the table and he deepened the kiss until I opened for him. A small whimper left me as his hot, velvet tongue stroked inside.
This time, I had to release the table and hook my arms around his broad shoulders. He invaded my mouth and I let him. He was strong but sensual, licking against my tongue with steady thrusts. My core ached in time with his movements. I wiggled to get closer to him.
“Let me,” he said in between twining his tongue with mine, “prove it. Over and over and over.” His hand was on my leg again, sliding up until his thumb crept under the hem of my shorts. He was millimeters away from my pussy, then he stopped.
Keep going. I needed more. Half drugged on the faint mint of his taste, my eyelids heavy, I got out a “yes.”
His growl ripped through the night, but he didn’t fall on me like a rutting stud. He kept it achingly, frustratingly slow. My shorts stayed on as he swept his thumb in half circles, creeping closer to my center. I spread my legs wider, nudging the cold bag of ice farther away.
He captured my mouth again, leaning me back with one of his arms anchoring me to him to keep me from tipping all the way. Just as I was going molten against him, he found my clit and stroked over it.
My knees drew up of their own accord. It’d been so long since I’d been pleasured, including by my own hand, but nothing had been like this. He was barely touching me and I was ready to come.
“You’re so fucking wet,” he said against my lips.
“Are you proud of yourself?” He’d done that just with his ministrations to my knee.
“Not yet.” He circled my clit and my entire body shook. He smiled against my lips, his beard tickling the sensitive skin. “Getting there though.”
Then he adjusted his arm, his big biceps flexing, and he slicked a finger through my seam, landing at my entrance. My mouth dropped open, the pleasure intense. Then he pushed inside.
“Ungh.” My head tipped back. I was not in a position to rock my hips up, but if he hadn’t been holding me, I’d have fallen backward and smacked my head.
“Does that feel good?”
“Yes,” I whispered.
He pushed all the way in, then pumped in and out while lazily rubbing my clit with his thumb. “How about that?”
I rocked with his movements as much as I could. “You know it does.”
His mischievous chuckle was only a turn-on. Teller knew what he was doing and I was grateful. No fumbling. No hesitancy. No regrets. “Teller,” I whined. I would beg, but I didn’t have to. He’d been the one to ask instead.
“You’re close, aren’t you? So damn needy that you’re ready to come. Dripping wet in my hand.”
I nodded, unashamed. If this had been years ago, I might’ve been approaching embarrassment, but not with Teller. This was about me and for me. He hadn’t just told me; he was showing me. A flush of heat grew between my legs as energy coiled inside my belly.
