The thought is cut off when his hand dips inside my leggings and touches methere. The blunt tip of his finger circles my entrance before doing a sweep up and down the seam of me as another finger nudges the bundle of nerves that are firing at a million miles an hour.
I arch into him, and he chuckles at the urgency waging a war inside me. I can feel it pulling me toward the brink of orgasm and far from the other emotions still trying to work their way into my consciousness.
But I brush them away and focus on Thomas’s fingers. On his palm. On how his mouth dips back down to my neck and kisses, sucks, and bites at my skin until one of his digits finally enters me. He’s got thick fingers, and my body clenches around the foreign object, earning a low growl from him.
“I can feel you contracting around me.” He groans against my throat, trailing his tongue down to the neckline of my tee. “If it feels this amazing around my finger, I can’t wait until I feel your cunt squeezing my cock.”
It only makes me squeeze him harder, flooding his finger with arousal. He jerks my T-shirt up high enough to expose my bare breasts and instantly takes one into his mouth.
I’ve always been a little self-conscious about how small my boobs are. I’d been envious of my sister’s chest since she developed them and thought I’d grow into mine one day. Unfortunately, I wasn’t blessed with the same genetics as she was. But Thomas doesn’t seem to mind at all. He’s practically got the whole thing in his mouth, sucking and licking and biting until—
“Oh my God.” I moan, eyes closing as a sudden burst of pleasure racks through my body and quivers down my spine. The orgasm comes out of nowhere, barely giving me time to breathe as he pumps a single digit in and out of me as my strung-out body floats down from the high.
I’m not sure how, maybe magic if that sort of thing exists in the world, but the shirt that had been pushed up my body while he devoured my breasts is now on the floor. Along with it, his.
We’re skin to skin, my hard nipples brushing against his chiseled pecs as he continues to play with my overstimulated clit while his lips hover over mine. They don’t brush or touch, but his breath is a caress against my own. Like he wants me to know how good he is at taking over. How much he wants to make that next move.
But he won’t. And I won’t ask him to.
I gasp, my lips nearly brushing his as my legs shake under his experienced hands. I feel my body shudder as he continues to work me closer and closer to something that feels blindingly good. Too good that I fear this isn’t real at all.
“You’re fucking soaking my hand,” he praises, biting the edge of my bottom lip and pulling it with his teeth. “I can feel how close you are again. Give it to me, baby. Come on my fingers so I can feel you come on my cock next. I’m going to keep this going until you can’t take it anymore. Until you’re milking me of cum. Understand?”
It’s too much. His hand. Hiswords.
I lose it for a second time, everything going black for a few seconds. Nothingness greets me in a world outside my body. No sound. No sight. Just this moment between us. This sated, full feeling that outweighs all the others trying to scratch their way in.
When I come to, Thomas is combing his fingers through my hair and watching me. “I thought I lost you for a minute,” he muses, a cocky smile curling his lips.
I blush, closing my legs.
“Don’t get shy on me now,” he says against my ear, nipping at the lobe. The hand that was inside me is now petting the side of my leg longingly. Does he even know he’s doing it? His touch seems soft. Thoughtful. Like he’s okay with things ending here despite what he wants to do to me.
Unfortunately for me, I’m right.
He massages my hip to regain my attention, watching as I swallow at his intense stare. “Are you sure about this?” he asks in a tone that’s a little too soothing. The dominant version of him from moments ago is gone, and the way he looks at me is full of exactly what I don’t want.
Pity and caution. Hesitation and sympathy.
I want the other version of him back. The one who isn’t afraid to take control. To talk dirty. To demand things and give me everything he gives to the other women he’s been with.
His eyes roam over me, studying every inch of my face like he’s trying to read my mind. “This isn’t something you can take back, Winter. If you haven’t—”
“I’m not a virgin,” I snap defensively, having had enough of whatever this is. Since when is he playing good guy? That isn’t what I want from him.
I want the experienced Moskins that’s featured in headlines. The one that women get when he travels. The person everybodythinkshe is. I want to stop being treated like I’m fragile, as if I’ll break at any second. He’s never coddled me before, and I appreciate that about him. Because he doesn’t treat me like everybody else.
“I never said you were,” he replies, hesitation in his tone still. “But as far as I’m concerned, you’re as good as one. My fingerbarely fit inside you. What will happen if I put my cock in you? Will you bleed on me? Will I hurt you? Is that what you want?”
Those stupid, stupid words from before play back in my head.I don’t do virgins.
My nostrils flare. “I thoughtyou, of all people, would be down for an easy fuck. You’ll sleep with anybody besides your wife. Why hesitate with me?”
His shoulders tense, squaring back. I notice the smallest tic to his jaw as the words land. As much as I regret saying them, I can’t take it back.
“Is that what you want? For me to treat you like the others?” There’s a bite to his tone that’s so cool it chills the air around us. “Do you want me to be rough with you like them? Touseyou?”
His gaze pierces mine with a surprising level of hurt and frustration that I feel in my soul.
