He arches his eyebrows and looks at me as he does it again, then circles his thumb until I’m grinding into the movement.
My experience with sex up til now was always . . . basic. I could take it or leave it most of the time. It was never great, but it was rarelybad.
This is different. There’s a need building I’ve never felt. I’m feral for Sawyer, reduced to my basest desires. I’ve never been so intimate with someone before. Never had someone play with me and study me and devour me like this.
His middle finger caresses my entrance, and he makes a disbelieving sound in the back of his throat.
“Honey, you’re dripping.” His other hand comes up tocup my chin before sucking my lip into his mouth as his thumb continues to drive me crazy.
He eases one finger in, just to his first knuckle, and I whimper, fisting his hair and circling my hips. The weight of his gaze is heavy as he watches me. When he adds a second finger, shallow like the first, I weep out another whimper. Slowly, so fucking slowly, he inches deeper. Tapping, circling, rubbing me from the inside.
“Tell me when it feels good,” he says.
“It feels good!”
He brings his forehead to rest against mine, chuckling. “No. Tell me when it feelsreallygood.”
I shake my head, not understanding. It all feels good. Almost too good. Maddeninglygood. No one’s ever made me feelthisgood.
Then he hits a spot. One magical spot that has me careening into him and gasping loudly.
“Ohmyfuckingfuck.”
“Will you look at me, honey?” His voice is husky.
My eyes flick open—I didn’t realize I’d squeezed them shut—and there he is. Mouth tight in concentration, eyes fervid. Somehow, through the fog of desire and pleasure and pure unadulteratedneedfor this man, I realize it’sSawyer.My stomach flips and the sensation in my core doubles, but that realization nags at me. He’s going to go cold again, I have to protect myself.
Nothing in the world could possibly give me the strength to stop what’s happening now, but I have just enough in me to breathe, “Just once. We do this one time.”
Eyes dimming, he nods once. “I’ll take it.”
Then he stands up. His fingers are still in me, other hand cradling my ass. I gasp at the change in angle and hang on for dear life.
“Where are we going?”
He walks us the few feet to his couch and lays me down, kneeling on one knee with one foot planted on the floor. He eases his fingers out. I grunt a sound of protest.
His answering smirk has me clenching around where his fingers should be. He takes his shirt off the rest of the way, and he’s beautiful. Thick and muscular as he looks down at me.
“God, Brie. You’re so pretty. So fucking pretty.”
He kneels between my legs, delicate hands caressing the outsides of my thighs in a ticklish tease.
His fingers ghost over the bandage on my hip. “Does it hurt?”
“Not even a little.” The only thing I feel right now is my ferocious need for him, the tight pulse of desire, anticipation for what’s coming.
He peels off my torn panties. “If this is just once,” he says, kissing the inside of my knee, moving his mouth higher with each word, “then I need to taste you.” He ends the sentence with one languid lick, from slit to clit.
“Sawyer.” It’s a slow, throaty plea.
His eyes shine, and he does it again before kissing up my lips and around my clit. He teases me with light pecks until I finally reach for his head and angle his face where I need him. He laughs against me, giving me little vibrations, and I can’t help laughing back.
“I’m not going to rush this,” he says.
Untangling my hands from his head, he holds my wrists with one hand on my stomach as the fingers of his other hand go back to that magical spot he discovered.
My eyes roll to the back of my head. “So good.”
