As far as my cock was concerned, Erin Walsh was the perfect woman and I'd chosen quite wisely last night. Choking on a laugh, I pressed my lips to her forehead. "I want this off," I said, my fingers edging up her t-shirt. "Yeah?"
Erin nodded, lifting her arms as I tugged her shirt up. It was off and flying, and there she was, creamy skin, simple black bra, silver necklace with a compass pendant hanging between her breasts, black diamond at her throat. There were flashes of ink, but those could wait. I'd explore them later.
"And this?" I asked, drawing my finger over the soft skin below her belly button. My thumb traced the button on her jeans, loosening it as she blew out a stilted breath.
"Yeah—but—fuck," she stammered, curling her hand around my wrist. "There are some scars. On my legs. I don't want to talk about it, okay?"
I nodded, and returned her hand to my boxers. "Whatever you want, darlin'. Whatever you want," I repeated. With her button fly popped, I shoved her jeans down. She stepped out of them, and I jerked my chin toward the headboard. "Lie back. Right there."
She stroked me for several glorious moments, and I was growling all over again. That was how she made me feel, like a snarling beast that wouldn't tolerate being caged. It'd never been like this before. I'd wanted women, sure, and even craved a few of them. But I'd never experienced this full-body wave of primal need.
My hand tangled in her hair, and when my lips found hers, I poured that beastly hunger into her. "Get up there, wife," I said, dragging her hand from my cock. "No more teasing."
I gave her a little shove, and she fell to the mattress. She aimed a meaningful glance at my jeans, and that was all the encouragement I needed to drop them to the ground. She crawled backward, and I followed her, stalking her every movement until we were flat against a bank of pillows.
"Hi," she said, running her hand up my flank and over my shoulder. She hooked her leg around my waist and pulled me flush against her. My cock was acutely aware that only my boxers and her panties separated us, and was alternately thrilled with that situation and impatient as hell. She smiled, a little shy. "I like the way you touch me."
"That's good because I really enjoy touching you," I said, bringing my lips to her neck and trailing them down between her breasts. "I didn't want to let you go when I met you last night. Wanted to keep you all to myself."
"Oh," she said, her eyebrow quirking as if this was an odd sentiment. "I don't think anyone's ever wanted to keep me before."
Fuck, she was too much. Just too much. Beautiful and rough around every edge yet vulnerable and secretly sensitive.
"I want to keep you," I said, sliding my fingers behind her back to unclasp her bra. "I'll keep you as long as you let me, lovely." Her arms went to her chest the minute her bra was sailing over my shoulder. "And I want to see you, too."
A groan was rumbling past my lips the second her arms went around my neck and she was bared to me. I thought her tits were a crime in that t-shirt, but I had no idea. They were full and pale, and delicious. I licked and sucked as if I was trying to consume her.
"Say something," she whispered, her fingers raking through my hair. "I want…I want to know what you're thinking."
I released her nipple with a satisfied groan, and then dropped kisses on each of her breasts before meeting her eyes. "I'm thinking get me inside you right now."
Our lips met as my fingers inched her panties over her hips. I could take her just like this, face-to-face while I tasted her hungry hums, and I'd want for nothing.
"You probably thought I'd be crazy in bed," she said, her words muffled as she spoke against my neck. "Like, I don't know, adventurous and kinky. Like I keep nipple clamps in my back pocket and actually prefer wearing thongs, and I'm always down for anal. And it's my fault, really. This whole night has been pretty wild, and I kissed you like a maniac and then everything on the boat, and it wouldn't be wrong to think that tequila on my tits is an average Saturday morning but—"
"It only matters what you want," I said, tipping up her chin to find her eyes. "Don't worry about what I think, or what you think I'm thinking. Tell me whatyouthink."
Erin's fingers clawed at my boxers, and together we got them over my hips and out of the way. Her panties were long gone and my cock was in love with the wet heat between her legs.
"Please don't make it hurt," she whispered.
I shook my head and dropped a kiss on her forehead. "Never."
I kissed down her belly and settled between her legs. I left a trail from hipbone to hipbone, and then down, over her mound.
"Stop," she said, sitting up when I turned my attention to her inner thighs.
The scars—there were more than some. Her skin was marked with one thin line after another. Dozens on each leg. They stopped a couple inches above her knees. It was like a rumble strip, the kind you found on the side of the highway to awaken sleepy drivers. The only bright side was that none of them were fresh.
"I've got you." Erin's breaths were rushing out in shallow heaves, her eyes panicked as if me seeing those scars would change something, even after everything we'd shared. "I'vegotyou. Stay there. Watch."
My hands moved from her thighs to her ass, bringing her sweetness to my face. I thought about teasing her for a few minutes, letting her need build until she couldn't imagine a single reason to push me away, but then my tongue met her clit and I couldn't tease her if I tried. If there was anything to be learned from recent history it was that IwantedErin too much to give her anything but exactly what she needed.
"Ohhh," she purred, her arms giving out and her torso dropping back to the bed as I traced her there. She released a sigh that rang with relief, but then layered her hands over her face, hiding from me.
"You're not watching," I said, gazing up the smooth expanse of her belly. Her lips were parted and her back was arching off the bed.
"Can't, too much," she said, her words breaking into a cry.
