His hand follows a path to my back, and as his fingers dip into the dimples that sit right above my ass, his head snaps back.
Rowan’s eyes lock onto mine, and for the first time, I see something almost predatorial in them.
“What?” I whisper, and he breathes out a heavy sigh.
“I forgot—I mean, I didn’t realize you had these.” His index and middle fingers dig into one dimple roughly, and I jerk forward just slightly.
I guess it’s true that he didn’t necessarily see my back the first time he had me naked. I’ve never really considered them a focal point or a major attraction, so I didn’t bother mentioning them either.
“Can I… can I see them?” As Rowan asks, he looks almost shy. His lashes dipped over his hesitant eyes, his head bowed slightly.
“Yeah.” I grin at him.
Standing, I turn my back to him, and Rowan wastes no time in grabbing my hips and situating me between his legs. I lift my sweater, my eyes focusing on his knees on either side of me.
Rowan is silent for a moment, and right as I’m starting to get a little self-conscious, I feel the slow drag of his fingertip across my lower back. I shiver beneath it, the cold and the intensity.
“Fuck,” he whispers, and it’s so quiet I almost miss it.
But then I’m choking on my own spit, and I would have fallen over if it weren’t for his hands suddenly taking hold of my hips again.
Rowan has his tongue lapping over one dimple, poking at it, sucking at the skin in torturous intervals. As he moves to the other, a loud, animalistic groan leaves him. One that settles so deeply inside of me that it provokes my own reaction—a whine too similar to a cry falling from my lips.
It feels too good. It’s hot—I’m burning up and growing harder with every pass of his tongue and the force with which his fingers are holding me.
And Rowan doesn’t stop. No—he continues this incredible agony until my legs are shaking and he’s pulling me backward to fall into his lap.
My back hits his chest as his hands spread out over my stomach, and my sweater is still pushed up to my pecs.
If someone could explain to me why that small, insignificant action felt so good, I’d be all ears. I wasn’t aware my lower backwas so sensitive—I didn’t know being touched there would feel like claiming.
“Elijah,” Rowan mumbles, his lips inches from my ear as his fingers dance lower and lower. “You’re so beautiful. You taste so fucking sweet it makes me sick with want.”
I’m grinding down against him, my hands reaching behind myself to feel him—any part of him I can reach.
I love the way he talks, the way he seems to worship me with no rhyme or reason. Just pure, unadulterated desire and attraction that’s so strong it’s turned into devotion.
“Touch me,” I demand, dragging his hand over the front of my slacks. Rowan grips me, squeezing roughly. He seems to have no restraint tonight; he is all coiled tension and desire beneath me.
I feel him hardening, rubbing against my ass as he grinds in time with my movements. His lips latch back onto my neck, and I yelp at the sharp pain when he nips over my trapezius muscle.
“Sorry,” he mutters, licking it generously.
“Don’t be. I liked it.” Even I am surprised by my words.
I’ve never been a hickey kind of guy, and suddenly I’m abitingkind of guy. Rowan’s hand rubs faster, the other moving to my thigh to spread my legs.
I’m sprawled out over him, and with our height difference, he can easily see over my shoulder to take in his masterpiece. I can feel the rapid beat of his heart against my back as he grunts, his hardened dick rubbing relentlessly at my clothed crease.
“Rowan, I have a bed,” I pant. As much as I’m enjoying being touched like this—as if I’m a prize on display just for him—I want us both naked, like, yesterday.
“Are you going to put me on my knees again?” he asks, and my whole body shudders at the question.
“Oh, fuck,” I respond, voice breaking, my chin falling to meet my chest in defeat.
He’s winning this fight for sexual dominance one word at a time.
“I like it, you know,” he adds. “When you’re above me like that. Like I only exist to admire you. To please you.”
