I lower my mouth to his pecs and murmur against his skin. “We don’t like one another,” I clarify then kiss his chest.
He shakes his head in disagreement but continues to let me kiss down the core of his body. “But we seem to agree on one thing, Esme.”
I throw him a sensual look as I walk back on my knees to unbuckle his belt. “Oh yeah, and what is that?” I ask.
Keats has that melting look again. “That my cock feels good inside you.”
I can’t help but bubble a laugh under my breath. “Fine. We have an agreement, hooray us.”
His hands snap to grip my upper arms so tight that I’m not sure if it hurts or not. “On top of me,now.”
“And if I don’t?” I challenge, my head cocking to the side.
He’s already hauling my body back up until I have no choice but to sink down on top of his lap.
“So help me, I’ll spank you until your ass is red tomorrow.”
Fire. My body is on fire.
God, this man speaks to my dirty soul.
“By all means, do,” I counter.
I’m not sure who makes the move, him or me, but our mouths create tremors and soon our bodies are twisting around one another. Keats, the man who always has his own way, throws me onto my sofa with my back against the cushions.
I’m going to scream if he doesn’t slam into me in the next few seconds. I’m craving him.
It scares me that we seem to be able to read one another’s minds, because he fulfills my wish, and I shamelessly let a loud moan leave my lips.
Between the alcohol and his talented body, my head spinning and his touch leaving me extra sensitive, I dig my nails into his back to hang on because I’m on a ride that feels like flying. The temperature of my body feels like a fever, but it makes this all the better.
This experience only heightens when even in my tipsy state, I acknowledge that this has nothing to do with my drink choices tonight. This feeling is all Keats. I’ll assess that later, because right now I’m surrendering to him, giving him my body because he identifies every little spot I have to ensure Isee fireworks.
And not wanting him to stop is beginning to feel like more than just tonight.
My sofa might be ruined,but I don’t care. Not after that orgasm I just had. We are squished together, both lying on the couch, completely wrecked and spent.
“I need a cigarette,” I comment as I stare at the ceiling, noticing my bra-covered chest lifting and dropping from my breathing.
“You used to smoke?” Keats sounds surprised.
I smile to myself. “No. But it sounds good after the way you fuck.” It’s an out-of-body experience, to be honest.
He chuckles, and my treacherous body decides that my head should rest against his chest. It must be an invitation for his arm to curl around me because that’s what he does. The air-conditioning in the room chases the warmth away from my body as a chill hits me, and Keats reaches to grab the throw blanket hanging on the back of the sofa to drape across our bodies.
“Don’t you dare bring that blanket over us,” I warn.
“Now I’ll do it just to piss you off,” he jokes.
The blanket feels smooth against my body, even though he only covers us to the waist. I guess this is okay. It’s not full-on nuzzling together. I can handle this. No dangerous territories entered.
Still, I feel the need to point out, “We don’t do cuddling, we bite.” My serious tone only receives a deep chuff as a response.
“Give me your finger, Esme,” he orders. Holding one up,he’s quick to capture it between his teeth with a light bite before he drags his lips off, sucking gently. “There.”
My body is trying to weigh down on this couch because his action just turned me on again.
“I guess that will do.”
