I turn her to face me, my hands settling on her waist. My thumbs trace the waist band of her PJ bottoms, following the curve of the fabric. The material is soft under my fingers, but her skin beneath it is softer. Warmer.
“Aaron,” she whispers, and the way my name sounds on her lips—hesitant, hopeful—makes my cock twitch in my boxers.
“Shh,” I murmur, pressing a kiss to her temple. “Just feel.”
I slide her top up and over her shoulders, slow, giving her time to protest, to pull away. She doesn’t. She helps me pull it over her head. The simple bra she’s wearing is the palest pink, almost innocent, the cups barely containing her. Her nipples are already hard, two tight peaks pressing against the fabric, begging for my mouth.
I get her to sit on the bed and drop to my knees in front of her.
The carpet is thick under my knees, the fibres pressing into my skin, but I barely notice. All I can focus on is her—the way her breath turns ragged, the way her fingers tangle in my hair when I press my lips to the curve of her breast. She tastes like warm skin and something faintlyfloral, maybe her soap. My tongue flicks under the edge of the bra, teasing the sensitive skin just above her nipple, and she gasps, her back arching just slightly, pushing herself closer.
“Aaron, please—”
“Please what?” I murmur against her skin, my hands sliding around to her back, finding the clasp of her bra. “Tell me what you want, Eve.”
She swallows, her throat working. “I—I don’t know.”
I chuckle, low and rough, my fingers deftly unhooking the bra. The straps loosen, and I guide them down her arms, letting the whole thing fall away. Her tits are perfect—small but full, her nipples a deep, dusky pink, already tight with arousal. I cup one in my palm, my thumb brushing over the peak, and she whimpers, her fingers tightening in my hair.
“Fuck, you’re beautiful,” I groan, my mouth watering. I don’t wait for permission. I lean in and take her nipple between my lips, my tongue swirling around the tight bud before I suck, hard.
Her cry is sharp, surprised, her body jerking against mine. “Oh God—”
I switch to the other nipple, lavishing it with the same attention, my free hand sliding down to her waist, then lower, gripping the fabric of her pyjama trousers. I get her to lift her bum and then tug them down, helping her step out of them, until she’s sitting there in nothing but her knickers.
I sit back on my heels, my hands on her thighs, just looking at her. Really looking. The light plays over her skin, highlighting the faint freckles dusted across her nose, the soft curve of her waist, the way her hips flare just enoughto make my mouth water. She’s not the kind of woman who’d turn heads in a crowded room, but right now, she’s the only thing I can see.
“You’re staring,” she whispers, her hands instinctively moving to cover herself.
I catch her wrists gently, pulling them away. “Don’t. Let me see you.”
She swallows hard, but she lets her arms drop to her sides, her fingers curling into loose fists. I stand slowly, my body aching with the need to touch her, to have her, but I force myself to go slow. To savour this. For her as much as for me.
I position myself in front of her, the cotton of my boxers tented obscenely by my painfully hard cock, a wet spot of pre-cum where the tip presses against the material.
Eve’s eyes widen, her breath coming faster.
“You can touch me,” I say, my voice rough. “If you want to.”
She hesitates, her fingers twitching at her sides, before she finally reaches out, her palm pressing against my stomach. Her touch is light, almost tentative, like she’s afraid I’ll break. I don’t move, don’t breathe, just let her explore—the way her fingers trace the contours of my abs, the way her nails scrape lightly over my nipples. When her hand drifts lower, brushing over the waistband of my boxers, I groan, my cock jerking against the fabric.
“Fuck, Eve—”
She pulls her hand back like she’s been burned, her cheeks flaming. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to—”
“No,” I cut her off, catching her wrist, pressing her palm back against my cock. “Don’t apologize. Touch me.”
She swallows, her throat working, but she doesn’t pull away this time. Her fingers curl around my length through the cotton, her grip shy at first, then firmer as I groan with pleasure.
“You like that?” I murmur, my hips canting forward slightly, fucking into her grip.
She nods, her lips parting. “Yes.”
I breath out hard, my hand covering hers, guiding her to stroke me through my boxers. “You have no ideawhat you do to me.”
Her eyes flick up to mine, dark and hungry. She holds my gaze, her hand moving under mine, her strokes growing bolder, more confident. I let her take the lead, my jaw clenching as pleasure coils tight in my gut.
But as good as it feels, it’s not enough. I want more. I want all of her.
