“Greer!” I pull the shirt off. Her breasts fill my vision. Full. Proud. Begging to be pampered. “What are you doing?” My voice is as tortured as my soul.
Her throat jumps when she swallows. “If we both want it, I figured why not? I got on the pill the moment I heard my parents’ plan for me, so there’s no need to worry. If you still don’t want me, I’ll go back to my room. But don’t send me away because you think you’re some white knight. Trust me, you won’t be doing me any favors.” Her eyes dart to the seat of my pants, and she chuckles. “And, from the looks of it, you won’t be doing yourself any, either.”
My hands flex against the couch cushions. Every rational part of me screams to stand up, walk away, lock myself in the damn coop with the chickens.
The rest of me desperately wants to know how it feels to touch a woman again. No. Not just any woman. To touchher.
My fingertips brush her bare skin just above her knee.
She doesn’t flinch. Doesn’t pull away. Just exhales a shaky breath.
My palm slides up the outside of her thigh—slow, deliberate, giving her a chance to stop me.
Instead, her fingers find my jaw, thumb tracing the edge of stubble, tilting my face up so our eyes lock.
Lightning flashes again. She’s so damn beautiful. So damn perfect.
I hook two fingers in the waistband of her thin cotton panties and tug her forward, bringing her full breasts right up against my face.
Good Lord, why must you give me your toughest battles?
With one swift tug, I pull her panties down to her knees as I take one perfect nipple between my teeth and tease it to a stiff point.
She doesn’t pull away. Instead, she groans, whimpering, “Kellan,” as her fingers dig into my scalp. I feel the tremor in them, how overwhelmed she is by all of this.
Gently, carefully, I bring one arm behind her knees, and the other, her shoulders, and whisk her down onto the couch.
She gives a surprised yelp, followed by a giggle.
I wish I could see her better, more than the outline and muted colors the dim light allows me to see, but I refuse to get off this couch when I have her nearly naked save for the panties stretched at her knees.
I rip them off, feeling more animal than man—feeling hungry.
I plant a series of wet, open-mouthed kisses over her breasts before moving down the soft curve of her stomach, over her belly button, to the short tuft of hair between her thighs. The primal scent of her pussy turns my blood molten, and I have to force myself to slow and savor the moment.
Greer’s head pulls forward, eyes shining in the dark. I slide one arm under her leg, pulling it onto my shoulder. Then I do the same with the other.
“Kellan?”
My cock throbs, pleading with me to bury myself between her silky thighs.
The human in me prevails, and I look up at her, brows lifted, hoping like hell she didn’t just decide she’s in over her head.
“I’ve…never done this before.” I’m sure that if I could see, her cheeks would be a deep shade of crimson.
“You’ve never had your pussy eaten?” I ask, surprised.
She turns her head to the side. “That, or anything.”
I know I should extract myself from the situation and head on over to the chicken coop, storm be damned, but her confession has me leaking pre-cum into my boxers, and I’m too much of a bastard to walk away.
She shivers, legs trembling. “I understand if you don’t want me?—”
“Don’t want you?” I snort derisively. “It’s all I can do to stop myself from devouring you.”
She giggles, her muscles relaxing. “Then hurry.”
Her whispered “hurry” strips away my hesitation. I lower my mouth to her seam, slowly at first, giving her time to change her mind, to push me away.
