She put her hands on his cheeks and kissed him.
“You should be,” he said, his mouth invading hers.
They were moving now. He was walking and she didn’t care where he brought her as long as he stayed next to her.
She hit the mattress, him on top of her. She had shut her eyes and opened them to see it wasn’t the room she’d been staying in.
Oh, thank God!
His hand went under her T-shirt, cupping her breast, her back arching.
His thumb found her nipple, a callous grazing it.
Had she ever felt something that rough on her before?
Nope. And she wanted more.
She bucked up against him, his mouth not coming up for air, his hand in her shirt just the opposite of the direction of his mouth.
He wasn’t moving fast there. Just teasing her.
Taunting her.
Letting her know the multiple layers of the man on top of her.
She wanted to know more.
She needed to know it all!
Her hips lifted more, grinding against his stomach.
He didn’t get the hint, only brought his other hand under her shirt as if he was playing dueling banjos and her nipples were the strings.
With the way her lady parts were dancing and twitching, she’d call him a pro.
“Clay,” she groaned. “I need more.”
Her shirt was whipped over her head, his mouth replacing one of his thumbs.
Yep, even better.
His tongue had some action going between swirling and swiping. Her mind couldn’t process much other than the tip of his dick was close to the waist of his shorts and with all her squirming, she’d felt it.
Her hand went between them seeking it out. Just copping a feel.
He grabbed her fingers before they could reach their target and pinned her hand over her head.
“Don’t even think of it.”
She let out a frustrated growl. “Are you seriously just going to leave me hanging here?”
“No. You wanted me to bring you here and you’re going to get it the way I want to give it to you.”
Her lower lips just melted. At least it felt that way with the gush of fluid that escaped.
All she could do was nod her head.
There was a time to throw the towel in and take what was dished out.
