“More.”
I slid my hand between my butt and my leggings and pulled them down, stepping out of my boots, pulling my pants over my ankles.
“Leave the thong, but get rid of the bra.”
My chest heaved as I unhooked my nude-colored, plain-Jane bra made to wear under thin shirts. It fell to the floor, leaving me exposed.
“Come here.”
One foot in front of the other, my feet carried me toward Aiken. He stood at the edge of the area rug and said, “Stop,” when I got to the fringe.
He covered the remaining distance, taking my lips in a brutal kiss while he pushed us both down to our knees. When we made it to the floor, Aiken’s hand smoothed over my bare ass. “Mmmm, I like this. Having you here.” He didn’t say anything more as his mouth attached to my right breast, sucking the nipple hard. It pebbled against the cooler air when he released it and went to work on the other. I was ashamed to say I rubbed my core against his thigh, searching for some relief, but it only ratcheted my need higher.
My hands held on to his back, drifting lower, into his boxers, kneading his mighty fine ass. I’d turned into a sex-crazed coed with one bite of my nipple.
“Need you,” I whispered.
“What do you need?” He made his way up to my ear, nibbling and talking at the same time. Teasing me, taunting me.
“You.”
“You need me to do what?”
He shoved my thong down, his fingers playing me like a finely tuned guitar.
“Need. You. Now. Inside. Me.”
“Here?”
“Right here on the carpet,” I boldly said. “I want my back to burn too.”
Who am I?
“Oh, it’s gonna burn, Richards.”
I was flat on my back and he was hovering over me before I even realized he’d ditched the boxers. “You ready for me?”
I nodded.
“Say it, Claire.”
“Hurry, please.”
And that was all that was spoken other than moans and growls. He entered me hard, rough, before taking a few gentle pulls, then returning to rough. When we were close, he flipped us, letting me take control, his back burning, my knees welcoming the pain. Like that, I took us home—together—where we both found bliss in each other, on our own terms, in Aiken’s house.
Our own memories—like he’d promised.
