I look up at him again, never stopping the movement of my mouth and hand, and I know he can see the answer in my eyes.
“Fuck,” he growls. “You want that, don't you?”
I hum my agreement, taking him deeper, and that’s what breaks him. His whole body goes rigid, hand tightening almost painfully in my hair.
“Kat—I’m—”
He comes apart with my name on his lips. I feel his pulse on my tongue, hot and thick, the taste of him flooding my mouth. I swallow instinctively, working him through it, drawing out every last shudder and tremor until he’s gasping. Then he leans against the door for a moment, chest heaving, looking absolutely wrecked as I release him.
“How was that?” I ask, hesitation in my voice, looking for confirmation, but before I know what’s happening, he kicks off his jeans around his ankles.
“How was that?” he chuckles as if I should already know, and then he’s bending down, wrapping one strong arm around my back, and lifts me.
“Come here and let me show you,” he murmurs against my ear, voice completely destroyed. “I need you in my arms... not on the damn floor.”
I squeal at the motion as he wraps my legs around his waist with his other hand. He’s moving before I even know where we’re going, yanking at the back of his shirt, tossing it off somewhere in the living room as we pass by, kicking off his shoes without missing a beat down the hall as he carries me towards his bedroom.
His lips find whatever skin he can reach—my jaw, my temple, my shoulder—kissing me like he’s trying to memorize every inch.
“That was...” He starts against my throat. “You have no idea what you just did to me.”
“I have some idea,” I say, voice shaky with need of my own.
He huffs a laugh against my neck. “Not even close. But I’m about to return the favor, and you’re about to know exactly how good that felt.
His bedroom is dark, with no lights except for the moon and the lit-up skyline just barely visible through the slim opening between the floor-to-ceiling window curtains. The bed is massive, covered in charcoal gray sheets that look impossibly soft.
He sets me down at the edge of it, hands immediately going to my waist. He’s taken off every inch of clothing he had on between the front door and his bedroom. Seeing Scottie completely bare for me has my body wanting whatever he’s willing to give me tonight. His chest is broad and defined, golden skin stretched over hard muscle. My mouth goes dry.
His eyes are still dark with desire, but there’s something else there now—determination.
“It’s your turn,” he says, voice still rough but steadier now. His hands slide up my sides slowly. “But we only go as far as you’recomfortable with, and sex isn’t on the table—not tonight. I don’t want you to worry about it. It’s just you and me, okay.”
I nod, though I already know that Scottie is the one I want to give it all to, yet taking the pressure off tonight helps to settle my nerves a little. His eyes scan over my body, and I wonder if he can see how badly I want him too. “Let’s start with this jersey... I’ve been thinking about taking it off you all day.”
Heat floods through me.
“Take it off,” he whispers, thumbs brushing the undersides of my breasts through the fabric, “or I’m going to tear it off you. It might be a bad omen if I rip my own jersey, but I will, Katerina, trust me.”
My breath catches at the feral promise in his eyes, and a part of me wants to see him do just that.
With shaking hands, I reach for the hem of the jersey, pulling it up over my head. His eyes track every movement as I slowly pull it off until I’m only in a black lace bra. Then I unbutton my pants and slide them down my thighs, showing off the black lace set that I wore tonight, hoping that he’d get to see them, and now he does.
“Christ,” he breathes. His hands hover as if he’s afraid to touch me, afraid he’ll break the spell. “You’re perfect.”
“So are you,” I tell him.
There’s a ghost of a sexy smirk that crosses his lips, and then he says softly, “Lie back.”
I do, scooting back on the bed until my head hits the pillows. The sheets are as soft as they looked, cool against my heated skin.
Scottie follows me onto the bed, moving with predatory grace. He settles between my legs, hands sliding up my thighs, pushing them wider. His eyes are locked on the damp spot visible on my black lace panties, and he groans. “Look how wet you are,” he murmurs, running one finger lightly over the fabric.
I gasp, hips jerking up involuntarily. “Did sucking me off get you this wet?”
“Yes,” I whisper, because there’s no point in denying it.
“Fuck, you are my girl, aren’t you?” He asks, and I nod… it can’t be denied.
