He drummed his fingertips between my legs and I couldn’t hold back a loud, needy gasp. “You like that?” he asked, a crooked smile pulling at one corner of his mouth.
“I think you know I do.”
Walking his fingers up to my waistband, he was quick to flip open the button and draw down the zipper. Instead of shoving a hand into my underwear, he dragged the backs of his fingers over my belly. Somehow, this made me crazier than anything else. Forget about pinching my pussy, forget about stroking my thigh to the point of internal combustion. This, with his fingers on the squish of my belly, had me damn close to begging.
“I want to rip this sweater off you.” He leaned in close to kiss my jaw, his beard scraping over my cheek. “And these jeans.Fuck. Your ass looks like it belongs in my lap when you wear these jeans.” Before I could respond, he added, “I’m sorry. That was—I shouldn’t have said that.”
I met his crinkled gaze and whispered, “More.”
His eyes widened. “More?”
I made another attempt at nodding because it was obvious he didn’t believe me. “Please.”
He blinked away and released a heavy breath. Then, “What if I tear these jeans off you?”
“Please,” I whispered.
“And I tease you through your underwear?”
“Please.”
“And I lick you until your legs give out? Bite your pussy? Fuck you with my fingers? Suck your clit until you see stars?”
I balled my fingers in his shirt, yanked him closer, close enough to feel the hard shaft trapped behind his zipper. Never in my life had I begged for anything. I was prepared to end that streak tonight.“Please.”
He set both hands on the counter, caging me there. “You have to be quiet. I can’t have you waking the kid.”
“I will be quiet.” I pressed a hand over my mouth. “So quiet.”
“And you have to tell me if you’re uncomfortable,” he said, his tone crisp and stern. “I don’t care what it is, you’ll tell me.”
“Of course.” I moved my hand down his chest to rest on his belt buckle but he took me by the wrist and swiftly moved me away from that area.
“Not yet,” he said as he kissed my jaw and cheeks. “This is about you.”
“But—”
“Shut up, Shay.” With that, he grabbed the waist of my jeans and tugged them down to my knees. As he dropped down to kneel in front of me, he whispered, “Would you look at this?” He cocked his head to the side to stare at my underwear. I’d known they were soaked since getting out of the truck but without the insulation of my jeans, the damp spot felt like an ice cube against my flushed skin. “What’s this all about, wife?”
He tapped my underwear and I had to layer both hands over my mouth to keep from crying out.
“I think you know,” I said. “The ride back here was—”
He ran his thumb up the inside of my thigh while he grinned at me. “What was it, Shay? What had you squirming all that time?”
“I didn’t squirm at all.”
Noah reached for the front panel of my underwear and twisted until the fabric gathered and edged between my folds. The pressure was unreal. I covered my mouth again.
“You squirmed,” he said, his focus fixed between my legs. He drew a finger up one side, down the other. His complete refusal to touch me where I needed it the most brought me back to that razor’s edge and I knew nothing would be the same after this. Not for me and not for us. “That’s why I held you down the whole trip.”
Something inside my brain unraveled and then that looseness spilled down my back and into my belly. Something that loved him knowing what I needed and then giving it to me before I could ask or even identify it. “Is that what you were doing?”
He locked his hands around the backs of my thighs and leaned into me. He gave another tug to my underwear, pinning them against my clit as he scraped his scruffy chin along my inner thighs. My legs were ready to give out but I wasn’t going to tell him that. Not until I found an outlet for the pressure building low in my belly.
“Does this pussy taste as good as I imagine?”
“I—I don’t know,” I admitted.
