I’ve always loved how she calls me Ty. One syllable, two letters, so much unspoken promise on her sweet lips.
I shift closer, dragging a hand over her hip and up her torso until I’m cuffing the side of her neck.
“I should have laid you out on a bed.” I hover closer, kissing her softly. “I should have had the pleasure of peeling off your shirt and worshipping your gorgeous tits.” I slip a hand under the hem of the T-shirt she’s wearing.
She shivers in response to my touch, the sight lighting me up inside.
“I should have had the privilege of sucking on your tits, playing with your piercings, and savoring every inch of skin I could find.”
I brush my knuckles over one of her nipple piercings. She shudders again.
“I would have made a fucking meal out of your pussy.”
She whimpers.
I subtly work my hand down between our bodies and squeeze the tip of my dick, staving off the orgasm already threatening.
“I would have taken my time exploring, figuring out exactly what you like, and ensuring you were prepped and stretched and fucking soaked before you took me. You’ve got to be ready for me, baby. I need you to be prepared for my piercings when I enter that tight little cunt.”
“Ty,” she breathes.
The tingling in my balls is back, my vision hazy. Fuck. I’m so fucking close.
I grit my teeth, trying to keep my cool.
“I would have tried lots of positions so I could figure out what we both like best. I can’t stop thinking about what it’ll feel like the first time I take you from behind.” I tuck her hair behind her ear, then plant a slow, languid kiss on her neck. “I can’t wait to see how your body responds when I drag all seven piercings over your swollen, needy core, pushing you to the limit.”
She whimpers again, higher pitched this time, then leans forward, seeking my lips. She meets me in the sloppiest, horniest kiss. We’re all tongue and teeth, frantic kisses and breathy moans. Goddamn, I love everything about this woman.
“You’ve put a lot of thought into this,” she says when she pulls away to catch her breath.
I still and wait for her to look at me. When she does, I tell her, “I put a lot of thought into everything when it comes to you.”
I cup one of her luscious, perfect tits beneath her shirt and drag my thumb over the barbell through her nipple, but a knock on the door brings the moment to an abrupt stop.
We both freeze like we’re kids caught with our hands in the cookie jar.
“Sawyer?” Noah calls through the solid wooden barrier. “I’m heading out. Are you up for coming with me?”
My girl tenses up, shrinking in on herself slightly as she looks from me to the door, then back up at me again.
My mind is made up instantly.
This is the first opportunity I have to prove that I’m more than just talk.
“Go,” I tell her with a quick jerk of my head toward the door.
Eyes widening, she sits up and fixes her shirt and combs her fingers through her mostly dry hair. “Be out in a sec!”
Rather than jump up and scurry out of here, she searches my face, concern etched in her brow.
“You’re sure?” she asks, sincerity and a hint of trepidation underscoring the question.
I nod easily. “Earlier, you asked me to try. I agreed. I figure that coexisting with them—accepting them and their places in your life—is the surest way I can prove myself. This is me trying.”
Sawyer smiles, pure adoration spreading over her expression. She kisses me once more—and damn, a guy could really get used to this.
She picks up the discarded flannel and grabs her phone, then with one last look over her shoulder, she opens the door.
