Thumbs hook into the band of her bottoms and just like that, they drop to the floor. A black thong arches up over her hip bones. My cock twitches from the sight. Even more so when she shifts her body at an angle that accentuates her curves. Curves that were on full display the day I met her. The only thing that covered her that day were her hands and arms, and while it was a valiant effort, I still saw way too much.
But I didn’t complain.
Fuck no.
Instead, dirty thoughts traipsed through my head, and they’ve been hard as hell to get rid of ever since.
Her palms slide up to the hem of her shirt where she tugs on it before slowly lifting it up over her head. There’s nothing but a bralette underneath that barely covers her, the fabric so thin that I can see the shape of her nipples. The color of them through the light material.
“Fuck. You’re going to be the death of me. I don’t know how I survived before you.”
“Are you just saying that?” she asks, lacking that usual confidence she carries around. Like I’m saying it just because she’s in front of me half-fucking-naked.
I walk the distance to her, which isn’t far, and pepper kisses on her shoulder while my hand glides over the smoothness of her stomach and side. My nose trails up the side of her neck, and when I get to her earlobe, I sink my teeth into it.
“No way I’d be rock hard if you weren’t.” My fingers skate past her belly button. She gasps in delight when they brush against the top of her thong and dip a centimeter below. “I’ve thought about you hundreds of times.”
“You have?” There’s a moan hidden beneath those words, on the brink of showing itself. I plan on luring it out of her just like she’s managed to tap into my psyche enough to have me acting on what I want.
Walking us back the few feet it takes to get to the table, I prop her against it, then let my middle finger trail lower and lower until it rubs that perfect little part of her I can’t wait to have my mouth on. I dip lower, dragging my finger through her wet lips.
My cock throbs. “How long have you been this wet for me?”
“Since the first time we kissed,” she admits breathlessly, head tilted back from the way I’m touching her.
“Don’t say things like that,” I growl, unfastening my jeans and pulling the zipper down.
“Why? It’s the truth.”
The truth.
For some reason those two words grab me by the neck and shake me. They remind me that she doesn’t knowthe truthabout my past or the things I’ve been doing, but then I remember that it doesn’t matter. The lies I keep don’t get toaffect our connection. They don’t get to rob us of these feelings. Nor do they get to tell us what direction to go.
For the longest time, I’ve put myself last to make sure others are happy. My needs and wants came last, and I don’t want to do it anymore.
At least not now.
Here and now, all I want is her.
The only way to make that happen is if I let go of what everyone else needs, and focus on my own desires.
“The truth…” I trail off, working one finger against her before slipping it inside. Oh fuck. She’s so goddamn wet and warm. “Is that you’re so fucking tight I’m going to lose my mind in seconds once I’m inside you.”
She throws her head back and moans, grinding her hips into my hand.
My finger, slick and skilled, is a servant to her needy desires, and I give her all of it. Twisting. Pulling back. Plunging in deeper. I pepper kisses along her shoulder, up her neck, near her collarbone. Anywhere I can reach, my lips touch. Her breathing picks up, and I realize she’s still wearing the bralette. I reach down and pull it up, covering her exposed tits with my mouth, my tongue drawing lazy circles over her nipples.
She gives me a delirious whimper, and when her hand covers my forearm, grasping it as she circles her hips, I know she’s close.
“That’s my girl,” is what I murmur against her ear just before she lets go. “Fucking come for me.”
The sweetest sound falls from her mouth. Like she’s feeling nothing and everything at once. Like it’s all-consuming and euphoric. Like she’s on the edge of control and the total lack of it.
“Colson,” she breathes out, her hands releasing my arm and clutching my shirt instead.
My palm finds her face, my thumb tracing under her lashes. The balminess of her skin and the far-away look in her eye after orgasming ignites the monstrous need to take her without giving her a minute to catch her breath.
“Trust me?”
