And I was supposed to answer that with words? That I spoke out loud? While he looked at me? “This is good for me,” I managed. “But, more.”
He leaned down, braced one arm beside me while he rested his forehead near my belly button. He held himself steady for a moment, his shoulders a mountain range over me. “Can I take these off?” He tapped his thumb near my clit and that bolt of indirect pressure hit me so hard, I choked on air. “Or not, that’s fine too.”
“No, yes, please, off.” I tried squirming out of the shorts myself but he pressed a forearm across my hips, holding me in place. With that, the few fully formed thoughts in my head turned to sand. “Off,” I said again, since I was doing a bang-up job at being coherent. “Please.”
“Off, then.” With one annoyingly efficient flick of his wrist, the shorts skimmed down my legs and dropped somewhere over his shoulder. “And you want me to touch you again?”
“I think I’m going to implode if you don’t.”
“I won’t let that happen.” He said this like I wasn’t dissolving into a loose collection of pieces right in front of him. Like I wasn’t flailing and helpless, barely capable of stringing together words. Like he wasn’t the cause of it all. “Can I tell you what I’m thinking or is that too much?”
He ran a hand between my legs in patient, soothing passes as if there was a billboard over my vagina readingProceed with caution.
“It’s not too much,” I said, pulling him to the bed. I didn’t want to be naked and splayed open for study. I wanted him close. “I’m used to you saying ridiculous things. I’d be concerned if you stopped.”
He nudged the t-shirt up, leaving it bunched under my breasts, and kissed his way down the center of my belly. He tapped above my clit again though this time it felt like he was drumming his fingers on a tabletop. The vibrations thrummed over my nerves and I shifted, hoping to find a little more pressure, a little more direct contact.
“This?” he asked, sliding a finger between my folds and circling right where I wanted him. “That’s what you need?”
“Mmmyes” slurred out of me as I rocked against his hand.
“That’s my girl,” he rumbled, his mouth on my hip. “Show me. Don’t stop.” He murmured in approval as I worked my way into a jerky rhythm that tightened every string in my body. “You are so fucking soft, Sunny. I’m losing my mind here.”
He shifted and I felt the thick ridge of him on my thigh and everything inside me clenched in response. All I could think about wasmore. I needed so much more. I reached for his hand, guiding him lower. Deeper. “Could you—”
“Anything.” He edged closer, bowing his head to meet my lips as he pushed into me. “I feel as though I’ve been thinking about this forever. Like I’ve wanted you so long, I can’t remember a time when I didn’t.”
At first, I couldn’t speak. I couldn’t produce coherent words with those fingers moving inside me and the heel of his palm grinding against my clit. And the worst part was that Beckknew. He didn’t even try to hide that smug smile of his when he met my fogged-over gaze. I glared at him but that only cranked his smile up even more.
I didn’t have words but there were sounds. Deep, sweary, guttural ones that required me to break away from Beck’s kisses in order to let them tremble out of me. Gasps and cries as I pulsed around him. Breathy shrieks as I arched into his hand.
The words came back to me gradually. It was like my body had decided that we wanted this and we were doing this, and that single-minded focus came with a specific vocabulary.Pleaseandyesandthere.More.
“That’s it,” he whispered against my lips. “There you are. There’s my perfect girl.”
I didn’t think I’d come this way. I knew I could, based on a fair amount of independent study, but it didn’t happen often with a partner. Itneverhappened this fast. But here I was, barreling into the best, most destructive orgasm I’d ever had with the help of another person, my hand in his hair and my pussy clamped around his fingers so hard that I had a real concern about breaking them.
“You’re fucking miraculous,” he said, tipping his forehead against my temple. “Tell me I can keep touching you. Tell me we’re not done, Sunny. I can’t be done with you yet.”
I shook my head. Everything inside my chest quaked. “Not done,” I whispered.
“Do you need me to stop?” His hand was steady between my legs, a solid weight that only made the aftershocks more intense.
I closed my hand around his wrist. “Not yet.”
He kissed my cheeks, my jaw, my lips. He drew in a deep breath when he tucked himself into the crook of my neck and he sighed while I tossed my working knowledge of sex and intimacy in the shredder.
If I could come likethisfrom onlythat—well, things were different tonight.
“I remember a time when you didn’t want me,” I said, unreasonably proud of myself for finally stringing together a complete sentence and not once dissolving into a quivering puddle. “Like the time you tried to buy my building.”
“Do you know what I’m going to do now?” he asked, his breath warm on my cheek. “I’m going to see if your clit feels just as soft on my tongue as it does on my fingers. I’m going to lick you until I’ve memorized the way you taste. I’m going to learn what you like and do that over and over until you pass out.” He swatted the outside of my leg, cracking a startled laugh out of me. “And I’m going to use these perfect thighs of yours as earmuffs so I don’t have to hear any more of your heckling.”
He pushed up on an elbow and caught my eyes, his searching stare askingIs that okay? Are you comfortable? Do you want this? Can I be rude to you while we’re naked?
I think so. Yes. So much, yes. I don’t know what to do with you when you’re not rude.
I nodded and ran a hand down his back, pulling his shirt from his trousers as I said, “You could probably take this off.”
