I pull back, looking down at her flushed face and swollen lips. “Frankie,” I say, my voice tight. “If you don’t want this to go any further, you need to tell me now. Because if we do this… if you give yourself to me, that’s it. There’s no going back.”
Her eyes widen slightly.
“I don’t want you to stop,” she whispers.
Those six words are all the consent I need.
I crash my mouth against hers, kissing her deeply, thoroughly, like she’s the last breath of air. My hands roam over her body, learning her curves through the thin fabric of my t-shirt that she’s still wearing.
I slide my palm up her thigh and under the hem of the shirt, groaning when my hand meets her soaked panties.
“Fuck,” I mutter against her lips. “You’re killing me, baby.”
She smiles against my mouth, her hands tugging at my t-shirt. “Take this off.”
I sit back on my heels, grabbing the back of my shirt and yanking it over my head in one smooth motion. Her eyes darken as they roam over my chest and abs, lingering on the tattoos that cover most of my skin.
“Your turn,” I say, my fingers finding the hem of her shirt.
She hesitates for just a second before lifting her arms, allowing me to pull the fabric up and over her head. My breath catches in my throat at the sight.
She’s fucking perfect.
My eyes rake over her small breasts covered in cotton, the curve of her narrow waist, the subtle flare of her hips.
“You’re beautiful.”
She blushes, the pink spreading from her cheeks down to her neck and across her chest. “I’m not?—”
“Don’t,” I cut her off, glancing up and hating the doubt I see in her eyes. “Don’t say you’re not. You are. You’re fucking perfect.” I’ll prove it to her.
Leaning down, I capture her lips again as my hands explore her newly exposed skin. I trace the curve of her waist, the dip of her navel, the soft swell of her hip. She shivers under my touch, her body arching into mine.
I trail kisses along her jaw, down her neck to the sensitive spot where her neck meets her shoulder. When I nip lightly at the skin there she gasps, her hands clutching at my shoulders.
“Bane,” she breathes.
“Shh,” I coo, reaching behind her and unhooking her bra. I let my fingers trail across her soft skin as I slide the strap down her arms, her small breasts spilling free.
“Goddamn,” I murmur, cupping one of her perky tits in my palm, my thumb brushing across the taut peak.
She moans, the sound sending a jolt of heat straight to my cock. I lower my head, taking her nipple into my mouth, swirling my tongue around the sensitive bud before sucking gently.
Her back arches off the bed, pushing her breast more firmly against my mouth. “Oh god,” she gasps.
I smile against her skin, moving to give the same attention to her other breast as my hand slides down her stomach, tracing the waistband of her panties before dipping lower, cupping her through the thin cotton.
She’s soaking wet, the fabric damp against my fingers.
“Christ, baby,” I groan. “You’re fucking drenched.”
Her eyes fly open, embarrassment flashing across her face. “Is that... is that bad?”
I can’t help the laugh that escapes me. “No, sweetheart. It’s fucking perfect. It means you want this as much as I do.”
To prove my point, I press my palm more firmly against her, feeling her heat through the fabric. She whimpers, her hips bucking against my hand.
“I need to taste you,” I tell her, hooking my fingers into the waistband of her panties and pulling them down her legs.
