“You like that, huh?” he asked, so sudden and low it startled her.
Only the startled feeling was different than usual. It didn’t fill her full of fear or doubt or that idea of doing the wrong thing. It made her go all tingly instead. It made her pussy swell against the tight constraints of her ridiculous cotton underwear, followed by a pulse of pleasure so intense she wasn’t sure what to make of it.
She was pretty certain people weren’t supposed to orgasm over the wordsyouandlikeandthatandhuh. But it kind of felt that way. It kind of felt like when she woke up from a sex dream and some fuzzy remnants of that fake pleasure remained—which only made it harder to respond. When she finally managed it, the words came out all weird and rushed. And they were not the ones she’d intended to go with.
She had thought of saying a simple yes. But somehow midway between her brain and her mouth that one reserved word turned into a blurted,“Can I take your t-shirt off?”
It was possibly the most mortifying moment of her life. She just sounded so eager and excitable, on top of the request itself. He would have been fully justified in laughing, or maybe tousling her silly little head. But the best part about it was—he didn’t do that at all. If anything, he seemed more aroused than he had when she’d squeezed him. He actually did a little shudder, and his voice was just as breathless as hers when he spoke.
“Christ yeah,” he panted out, and to cap it off hehelpedher. He ripped that thing up and over his head as though it were on fire, then simply stood there, chest heaving, every inch of him just waiting for her to do more.
It was like being presented with a fabulous buffet after twenty years of bread and water. For a moment she was so spoiled for choice she didn’t know where to begin, gaze darting feverishly from one thing to the next. There was the thick jut of his collarbone and the satiny skin that covered his big shoulders. The hard slant of his jaw, now rough with a beard so sexy she often wanted to sink right into it.
But the real draw was that tattoo. The one she hadn’t been able to see in the tub or in all twenty of his movies, but could make out quite clearly now. It wasn’t a wheel, like she’d thought before when she’d glimpsed it—it was a tightly curled shell with a wave crashing around it, so beautiful she had the urge to bite.
Even though that was bad. She was pretty sure that was bad. She had no idea if it was bad at all, because after a moment of excruciating hesitation he gasped, “Please just fucking do anything I’m dying, I’m dying. I don’t care what it is. If you decided to stick your toe up my nose I’d say thank you, I swear to God. Whatever you want, anything you want, just do it.”
At which point, she realized two things.
Nothingshe did would be considered bad.
And her wondering about all this did not count as wondering in the least. It counted asteasing. She was teasing him, without really meaning to. That was why he was shaking and leaning forward just a little, and it also probably explained the jutting shape beneath the material of the pajama bottoms she’d found for him.
The pajama bottoms that she was now very thankful for, because unlike the sweatpants they weren’t particularly thick. They were cottony and thin, and it meant that she could see more than a vague outline. She could see the actual ridge just below the swollen head, so much more exciting than the sight had ever been on a computer screen. Here it was visceral and raw and real, and more importantly...
She had done that to him.
She had made him stiff.
And she was making him do something else too. Something that gave her another pulse of that near-orgasmic pleasure, before she’d even fully processed what it was. She just saw the circle of wetness and felt a strange thrill...and then the truth slowly sank in. That little damp spot waspre-come. He was so turned-on he was leaking pre-come through the material, and all because of her accidental teasing and tentative teasing.
Hell, maybe the tentativeness was the problem. Maybe he liked her fumbling approach. He certainly seemed to when she reached one shaking hand forward to touch him somewhere else. Just somewhere innocent, like his general chest area. His nipples were all stiff just like hers, and she only wanted to see how they felt.
But when she actually brushed awkward fingertips over one...
His reaction was way too big. His breath seemed to hitch somewhere high up in his throat, and when it finally got free a sound came with it. A choking, throttled sort of sound that set her hair on end—though here was the kicker. When she pulled back, startled by his response and sure she’d done something wrong, the gasp gotlouder. He added words to it.Fuck, I can’t believe how intense this is.
And she had to agree.
The air around them seemed to have thickened, grown heavy—which probably explained why she was struggling to breathe. Every time she tried all she managed was a thin, high whine, and it was the same for him. He was panting almost constantly now. His chest heaved with the effort. Then when she dared to reach forward again, it stopped altogether. All of him stopped. He went as rigid as a sergeant major’s salute, anticipation rippling off him in waves.
She could almost hear him thinking,Will she, will she?
So she did. She did. She touched him.
She just didn’t do it with her hand. She did it with her mouth, simply to see what would happen then. If he forgot to breathe over a touch, what on earth would he do when she licked and sucked and bit that taut little point? She imagined him doing all kinds of cool things, like maybe pulling her to him in this helpless, desperate way. But the reality was much more exciting.
The reality includeddirty talk.
“Oh that’s so fucking hot. God, it’s so hot watching you do this. Go on, go on, use your mouth,” he said, in a way that definitely suggested something else. She even knew what it was. She’d heard a guy in some porno saying it as he slid his cock all the way past someone’s lips, even though she was hardly doing anything of the sort. She had curled her tongue around one tight nipple—and was maybe playing with the other one a little bit, just to try it out—but that was all.
Apparently all was enough.
“Feels so good when you do that, don’t stop don’t stop,” he said, though he needn’t have worried. She couldn’t have stopped if a train had hit her. If anything she ended up doing more, like licking a long, wet path down his body in a way that made him even filthier and more lustful. He cursed when she laid a hot, wet kiss on that line of muscle above his groin, then told her she was ahorny little thingfor the nails she scored along his sides—all the time unintentionally pushing and pushing her into ever more daring acts. Some of them small, like the love bite she left on the inside of his wrist.
And then some of them bigger, such as the hand she couldn’t help pushing under the waistband of his pants. Yeah, that one seemed pretty big, all right. Or at least, he sure seemed to think so. He went up on tiptoes the moment she did it, one hand snapping up as though to get hold of something—anything—on her.
Before he seemed to realize he wasn’t supposed to.
