“I’m yours, Gareth. Jesus Christ, just touch me.”
He chuckles against me—jerk—then applies pressure to where I need him the most. I grind against his hand and moan, the sensation driving me wild.
It’s been too long—too long waiting for him, too long since I’ve let a man touch me.
“Fuck, Gareth, please don’t stop!” I cry out as he bites my collarbone, picking up the pace of his fingers. He’s rubbing me over my underwear—over my fishnets—but it feels so good, I don’t ever want it to stop.
Euphoric tingles rack my body, the pressure growing higher and higher while heat floods me. Gareth seems to know exactly how to handle my body, finding the exact rhythm to have me writhing against the wall.
“You’re so damn beautiful, Indy. I can’t wait to taste you—to slide inside of you.” He catches my lips with his desire taking over as his grazes demand access, immediately deepening our kiss with urgency, groaning when I let him in.
“Gareth…yes! Fuck!” I cry out as I’m brought to orgasm, arching against his fingers as they relentlessly circle my clit. Arousal floods me, drenching my panties as my legs threaten to give out.
“God, you’re perfect.” He withdraws his hand and starts to work the buttons on the jersey I’m wearing, expertly unhooking each, never taking his eyes off me.
When the jersey falls open, Gareth drinks me in, his eyes roving over every inch of my skin like he’s trying to commit me to memory. The way he’s looking at me—no man has ever looked at me like this before.
It makes me feel special.
Beautiful.
Seen.
I grab the hem of his T-shirt and pull it up, my movements hurried and clumsy, so he reaches behind to the neckline and yanks it off his body, discarding it on the ground beside us.
Gareth’s cut like a Greek god—sharp edges and deep ridges for days. I trace each cut of his abs, my finger trailing down to his Adonis belt before pressing my hand against his impressive hard-on.
Our eyes stay locked as I caress him through the sweatpants that are doing nothing to hide how turned on he is.
A rattling groan leaves him, but he quickly slaps his hand against mine. “No. Not yet. I have plans to worship you, Trouble.”
Threading our fingers together, he leads me over to the bed, guiding me to sit on the edge. My heart thunders as he sinks to his knees, reaching for my ankle.
His moves are gentle and measured as he tugs my foot up, resting the sole against his bare chest. Then he undoes the laces on my boot, loosening them until he can tug the shoe off.
He tosses it aside before he repeats the move with my other foot.
His eyes flick back to mine, sheathed in hunger.
Like I’m a feast, and he’s a starving man.
A rush of heat spreads through my body, pooling in my core. He’s going to ruin me, and I can’t wait for him to do it.
Pressing forward, he rests on both knees in front of me, and the next thing I know, he’s pulling my fishnets off me, my body arching as I fall back onto the bed.
When they’re off, he dips his head and kisses his way up my legs, slow and tortuously. He takes his time, alternating between kisses that are soft and rough. The anticipation drives me crazy, turning me feral as I writhe beneath him.
This moment has been years in the making, and I can’t wait another second to feel him inside me.
“Gareth, please,” I beg, barely recognizing my own voice.
“Have patience, Trouble.” The zipper of my skirt whines as he pulls it down. “I’ve spent years thinking about this moment. I’ve dreamt of your taste, the sounds of your moans. How you’d feel when I sink into you for the first time. How this perfect pussy”—his fingers find my clit again—“tastes. God, Indy, I’ve wanted you for so long, I’d almost convinced myself I already knew all of these things, but I can’t wait to experience it for the first time. So let me worship you, because nothing would bring me more pleasure than making you come on my fingers, my mouth, and my dick, as many times as possible tonight.”
Pushing my legs apart, he climbs onto the bed, maneuvering my body like I’m nothing more than a rag doll until there’s space for him between them.
The next thing to go is my panties, and I sit up on my elbows, watching through hooded eyes as he rubs them between his fingers. “You’re so fucking wet for me, Trouble.”
“You’re not the only one who’s been dreaming of this, Golden Boy.” I laugh, my voice hoarse.
