She lifts her hand and touches my face, brushing her fingers against my jaw as if she’s been dying to do it but hadn’t let herself until now.
“Yeah,” she says, steady as hell.“I do.”
And that’s it.
The world comes to a halt.My thoughts fall silent.I pull her close until there’s no space left to breathe, until only the scent of her skin and the gentle rush of her breath against my mouth remain.
Her lips are soft when I press mine to hers.She makes a quiet little sound in the back of her throat, surprised, and for half a second I think she might pull away.
She doesn’t.Instead, she melts into me.
My hand slides to her waist, gripping tightly, fingers digging in.My other hand cups her face, thumb brushing her cheek, and damn, the smell of her floods my mind until she’s all I can think about.
Her body presses against mine, heat soaking straight through my clothes, and my cock reacts instantly.I move my mouth to her neck, tasting her skin, breathing her in.She arches without thinking, giving me exactly the space I need, as if her body already knows how this goes.
Her hand fists in my shirt, tugging me closer, desperate and needy in a way that destroys me.She wants more.I feel it in the way she clings, the way her breath catches, how her hips tilt toward me.
Every kiss ignites.Every touch burns hotter.I’m trembling with it—longing for her, needing her.
“Please,” I murmur against her skin.I pull back enough to look at her, my eyes dark, chest heaving.“Please let me fuck you.”
I’m begging.I’ve never begged before.Never had to.But for her, I would.I’d beg.I’d lose my mind.I’d give her everything because she already has me—every broken, desperate, messed-up piece.
She pulls back, her eyes locked on mine, burning and fearless.Her hands reach for the hem of her shirt, and she yanks it over her head in one smooth, fierce motion.
Fuck.
She’s sitting there in a red lace bra, confidence radiating from her.Every guy’s fantasy doesn’t even come close to capturing it.This is so much more than that.
Her fingers reach behind her back and unclip the clasp.Her bra slips off her shoulders and falls away, forgotten.My gaze follows it down, then snaps right back to her tits.Fuck, they’re perfect.My mouth goes dry.I tongue comes out to wet my bottom lip.
I drop to my knees before her.
My hands reach for her boots as I take my time, sliding them off while savoring every second.She watches me, her breath shallow, chest rising and falling, fully aware of what she’s doing to me.
When I’m finished, my hands are on her again.I guide her back until she’s stretched out on the bed, hair fanned over the pillow, tits bare, eyes dark and waiting.
My cock is hard as hell, aching, but I don’t rush.
I hover over her, palms pressed into the mattress on either side of her hips, and look down at her—the girl who wrecked me without even trying.
My fingers find the button on her jeans, executing that practiced flick to snap it open quickly.The zipper comes next, my knuckles brushing her skin as I pull it down.Then I grip the waistband, slowly tugging her jeans and panties down in one deliberate, punishing pull.My eyes remain fixed on every inch I uncover.
She shivers when the air hits her, but she keeps her legs open.
Good girl.
I toss the denim somewhere behind me.Not even sure where.My focus is fixed on the bare fucking heaven between her thighs.Smooth.Wet.So fucking perfect it makes my cock ache.
My tongue slides over my bottom lip, slow and hungry.I want to taste her and make her forget every damn name but mine.
“Goddamn, Red,” I mutter, voice low and strained with hunger.“Are you always this eager for me?Or just when you know I’m gonna ruin that pretty, perfect pussy?”
My hands grip her knees and push them apart, wide enough to make her blush.I don’t look away.My eyes devour every inch of her spread out for me.
Three days.
Three damn days without touching her, without tasting her, and it’s been pure agony.I’ve been crawling out of my skin, twitching for the hit, desperate for the fix only she can give me.
