He ran the tip of his finger over my nipple, and it hardened under my tank and bra. He pinched and squeezed it before leaning over and sucking it through my clothes. I’d not done any of this before, yet my back arched and my body begged for more. He tugged down my tank, and when my bra cup came with it, his mouth latched onto my nipple.
“Aston ...”
“Yeah, baby?” His lips tickled my nipple as the words made their way out.
“More,” I said, my back arching off the bed.
He broke free and yanked my shirt over my head, then unhooked the front clasp on my bra, shoving it off my shoulders in seconds. I slid my hands under his shirt, smoothing them up his abs until I yanked his shirt off.
He ran his tongue over my breast, kissing my cleavage, then made his way to my other nipple, giving it the same treatment he’d given the other moments earlier. He didn’t stay there long and soon began to travel south, kissing and licking a path to my navel. I gripped his hair with both hands, pulling, guiding, and pushing.
The room felt like a fiery furnace. My skin was burning, invisible flames licking at it from the inside out.
Aston unbuttoned my jean shorts and shimmied them down. He stood to pull them off where my ankles were dangling off the side of the bed. I watched through squinted eyes as he shoved down his khaki shorts and boxer briefs, fisting his own length, pumping it while staring down at me.
Then he was on me again, his mouth down below, licking places I’d never been touched. It felt good. No, amazing. I couldn’t believe how brazen I’d become ... I was a virgin when it came to everything. Aston was a man, and I wanted to be every bit of a woman to him.
I squirmed and pushed myself further into Aston’s face, surely making a fool of myself, but I’d never felt so hot. All of a sudden, I felt like my body was splitting in half, blistering heat coursing through my veins. I came, shuddering all over his tongue.
He didn’t even pause to lick his lips or wipe his mouth. Quickly, he made his way up my body and kissed me fervently, my taste everywhere on him.
I didn’t care, couldn’t bring myself to worry about that while he was grinding into me, his length touching my sensitive spot, not allowing the tremors to die down.
We kissed, our tongues colliding and playing, our pelvises doing a dance ... until he slipped inside me. When he hit the natural barrier, he paused.
“Bex?” His brow furrowed. “You okay with this?”
I nodded, and he slowly pushed inside.
Bringing his hand down to mine while he kept his weight up on the other, he took his time. Languidly, he drifted in and out, the tension heightening, pleasure rising. The pain quickly forgotten, I lifted my hips to meet his, and he picked up the pace.
Maybe he planned it, but it didn’t feel that way. It felt like it was supposed to happen like that, the most natural thing that had ever happened to me.
Aston Prescott buried himself deep inside me, taking all of me, making love to me in a way I was certain I’d never have again. We never discussed birth control, other than that I was on the pill to regulate my periods. I didn’t care.
At that moment, all I cared about was Aston Prescott being mine.
Bexley
Iwasn’t exactly a prude, but until I met Aston, I’d rounded all the bases except two—doing the deed, and letting a guy go down on me. Both seemed to require commitment.
When it came to Aston, there was an intimacy between us I hadn’t been quite ready for ... my soul was assaulted with lust, love, unnamed feelings. The moment he shook my hand and introduced himself behind the snack shack, I was his. His abundant arrogance and enormous ego should have been a turnoff, but somewhere in there, I found a redeeming man.
I saw through both his ego and pride for what they were—an armor. I’d made it my summer mission to put tiny chinks in that shell until it was chipped away.
When he’d sat me down on the golf course and told me about his life—the true story, his mom, the pain, and the guilt—his drive to succeed made sense. It was all he really had. Despite all the wealth and trappings, his desire to take over the family business and make it great was all that was important to him.
A week after we had sex for the first time, I sat in his lap one night on the golf course, a blanket spread out underneath us and the stars above, while he ran his nose along my neck. He’d pushed my hair to the side, exposing my skin to the evening air, but it was his touch giving me goose bumps and his words making my pulse race.
“I can’t stop thinking about you. I want to make love to you every second of the day,” he said softly.
My eyes squeezed shut, and a shiver ran down my spine at the mention of making love. Is that what he thought we were doing?
“I want to touch you ... all the time.” His perusal of my neck stopped, and he nudged my face toward his. “What? I didn’t mean to upset you.”
“What are you talking about?” The words squeaked out of my mouth.
“You clenched up, went rigid in my arms. Not exactly the reaction I was hoping for.”
