“That kind of thing turns you on, we can make it happen,” he said quietly, pinching one of my nipples between his fingers before giving the ring there a gentle tug. “But not the first time.”
“Bed’s good,” I gasped, reaching for his waistband.
Our mouths collided as he backed me toward the bed, both of us unbuttoning and unzipping each other’s jeans. I slid my handinto his boxers and wrapped it around him, making him groan as he gave my jeans a sharp tug, pulling them down to my thighs.
Then his hand was between my legs, pushing my underwear to the side so he could slide his fingers over the slick skin. I could barely widen my legs, but I gave it a valiant effort as I moaned into his mouth.
His fingers were calloused and thick, and he knew exactly how to use them. I rose up on my toes as the first one and then two pressed inside, the muscles in my thighs quivering as I fought to stay upright.
“Good,” he whispered against my lips as I started moving in counterpoint. “That’s it, baby.”
Abandoning his cock, I wrapped my hand around his wrist, the nails on my other hand digging into his back as I got closer and closer to the edge.
“Chase it,” he encouraged, his voice rough. His hand twisted, and he thrust harder, making my entire body tighten.
I came with a cry that I couldn’t have held back if I tried.
“Good girl,” he praised, his lips brushing mine. “Fuckin’ gorgeous, Harp.”
His fingers didn’t stop, even as I came back down. It was as if he was both bringing me gently back to earth and building me back up at the same time, and I could barely catch my breath.
No one hadevergotten me off with just their hand before.
Letting go of his wrist, I used both hands to tug his jeans and boxers down.
His hand slipped away, and he gently sat me on the edge of the bed and knelt to help me pull my shoes off. He stripped the rest of my clothes off slowly, and while I wasn’t nervous, per se, I wondered how things would go now that we were no longer frantic.
When my clothes were lying on the floor, Bas rose to his feet and kicked off his boots. Then, as if he’d never known self-consciousness a day in his life, he stripped completely.
I was dumbstruck.
I knew Bas was big. His height and broad shoulders were impossible to miss. But I hadn’t realized how corded with muscle he was. His thighs were thick, his stomach a ladder of abs, and at the bottom—like an arrow pointing to the promised land—a deep V that cut in at his hips.
“Jesus, Sebastian,” I said, my voice raspy. “Work out much?”
He laughed as he took a step closer and leaned down. Tilting my head back, I held his eyes as he brushed his nose against mine.
“Scoot up the bed and lie back.”
I wanted to make some quip about being bossed around, but instead, I did what I was told. Using my arms and legs, I scooted backward on the bed until my head reached the pillows. Lying back, I watched as he climbed onto the bed and crawled up until his hands were at my hips.
“Spread your legs,” he ordered.
It could’ve been cheesy or weird. If the situation had been even slightly different in any way, I would have laughed or cringed or rolled my eyes. But Bas wasn’t putting on a show.
He was telling me what he wanted. No games. No guessing.
Sliding my feet up the bed, I let my knees fall wide.
“Stay there,” he ordered.
I nearly protested as he climbed off the bed, but then I realized where he was going. Seconds later, he’d turned on a lamp that lit the room with a warm glow.
I was quite a bit more exposed with the light illuminating every curve and hollow of my body, but I held myself in place anyway and was rewarded by the way Bas’s eyes lit up as he reached the side of the bed.
“These were unexpected,” he said, dragging his hand down the front of my throat and over my breast, pausing to run a single finger over the hard nipple on my right breast. He pinched the opposite nipple, pressing harder and harder until I began to squirm.
I arched my back as his hand slid away.
