Lifting my hand from his thigh, he presses it to his lips before laying it higher on his thigh. Now I can feel the firm outline of his cock. “I wouldn’t care. Not with the condition I’m in,uvetta mia.”
I drag the palm of my hand firmly up and can’t control the words that come out of my mouth. “How did you find a jockstrap to hold this beast back?”
Fortunately, I say this just as Troy has slammed the car into park in front of the villa. Within seconds, Troy unbuckles us bothbefore hauling me over the center console to ravage my mouth with a kiss so intense, I groan in protest when he lets me up for air. He flings open his car door and slides me off his lap.
After he makes sure I’m balanced, he rises from the vehicle. He steps away long enough to slam the door before pulling my body tight against his. I slide my hands up his chest, letting the need, the want, coalesce inside of me until I can’t think about anything else.
That is until Troy speaks. “I don’t care about my cup size, but I sure as hell want to learn more about yours.”
Laughter causes me to stumble hard. Wheezing, I manage, “I can’t let go because if I do, I’m afraid I’ll fall flat on my ass.”
“Well, we can’t have that; can we?” With that, Troy bends down and scoops me up in his arms.
I squeal, “Don’t blow out your knee! I have plans for it.”
He smirks. “Just one?”
“Well, it’s easier for you to be on two…stop distracting me! Don’t hurt yourself,” I protest as he strides confidently to the front door. After opening it and then slamming it shut behind us, Troy carries me down the hallway toward his rooms at a fast pace.
Seconds later, I couldn’t tell you what my middle name is because Troy backs me up against one of the plaster walls and wraps my legs around his waist. His fingers have lifted my sweater away from my jeans and are playing with the skin of my midriff. My head falls backward, and I plead, “Touch me.”
His eyes promise me he will, but before he does, “I want you to know how much I want you.” Then he rolls his hips forward, ensuring every inch of his cock rubs against the seam of my jeans that’s pushing against my clit.
I yank his head down and bury the fingers of one hand into his dark hair. The other drags up his pec until I find his nipple. Once I home in on it, I tweak it between my finger and thumb.
Troy’s breath is ragged. “We need to find my bed.”
I agree. “Any bed.”
The incendiary look he aims at me should fry my clothes away. “Mybed.”
“Caveman much?”
He boosts my legs higher, forcing me to wrap my legs tighter around his hips when he walks. That’s when he takes a sledgehammer to the walls I built around my heart. “The first time I take you, I want you spread naked across my sheets so I remember it on those long lonely nights when you’re traveling without me.”
I bury my head in the space between his neck and shoulder and just breathe. Inhaling deeply, I moan, “I want you. I want every part of you to touch every part of me.”
Troy answers me without words. Dropping me onto his bed, he whips my shirt off over my head. Then he lets out a long sigh as he traces his fingers over the edge of my silk bra before cupping the heavy weight of my breast. With each pass, he lowers the restraining fabric until my nipple pops out.
That’s when his lips make contact. I can only plead, “More.”
Fortunately, Troy is superb at following the plays. He flicks his tongue against my nipple even as he rolls the other bud into an anticipatory tightness. He flicks open the front clasp of my bra, spreading the cups apart. For long moments–eternity, in my aroused state–he stares down at me before murmuring, “You’re beautiful.”
Then, without warning, he leans down and opens his lips before sucking the whole areola into his mouth.
My hips levitate off the bed. “Oh, God.”
“Feels good?”
“Could be better.” I spread my hands wide and feel the warmth of his duvet beneath my fingers. Coming out of thesensual fog he’s punted me into, I demand, “I want to touch you.”
Troy immediately reaches behind him and yanks off his shirt with that one arm move that makes men ten times sexier yet only leave women practicing a game of Twister–the clothing edition. I find my heart melting when, instead of being a text book Lothario, Troy curses as his arms get stuck. While he fights with the buttons of his cuffs, I explore the expanse of his skin and drag my fingers down to his waistband.
Finally freed, he rests his body on mine. “Are you okay with this?”
Am I okay? It doesn’t take long for me to conclude that, “I’m so much better than that.”
He rubs his chest back and forth over my nipples as he presses light kisses to my face.
