“I know, Angel.”
Standing, he presses his palm to the center of my chest and pushes me down, until my back is on the bed. Then, leaning over me, he rains kisses across my chest and down my belly, stopping at my new piercing.
“This is so fucking sexy, Nevaeh,” he purrs, meeting my gaze. His caramel-colored eyes scream want and need, but also, I think, maybe something more. Maybe I’m wrong, maybe it’s just me being naïve or hopeful, but it almost seems as though love is shining through. The way he wants me isn’t just sexual, it’s more than that. He doesn’t just want my body, he wants all of me.
Ethan gently kisses the top of my naval and then the bottom. It’s still slightly pink and a little sore, but he’s careful. I’ve noticed that about him. Everything he does, he thinks through. He’s cautious and caring. Nothing is done in haste or without consideration.
As I watch him kiss each of my hip bones and then unbutton my pants, my chest rises and falls quickly, as if I’ve run a mile even though I haven’t run anywhere. It’s all Ethan. The way he looks at me, the way he touches me. He leaves me breathless.
He pulls my boots and pants off, exposing my light pink satin panties. Then he presses a soft kiss to the hood of my…pussy. Oh my God, I can’t believe I’m even thinking that word. Pussy. He just kissed the hood of my pussy. The thought alone has my thighs tightening in anticipation.
“Ethan…”
I keep calling out his name, but nothing else comes out. There are so many things I want to say, but I’m too lost in my lust to convey anything I’m trying to say.
“I know,” he says, glancing up at me with a soft smirk splayed on his lips. “I got you, Angel.”
Curling his fingers around the sides of the waistband, he closes my legs and removes my panties, leaving me completely naked.
He spreads my thighs back open, then lowers his head. His mouth makes contact with my pussy, and he feasts on me like I’m his last meal. As he tongues my clit, I struggle with whether to close my eyes or keep them open and watch. But then he bites down, and my eyes clamp shut, my head hitting the mattress. Ethan licks and sucks and strokes me in a way that has me writhing against the bed. My orgasm is building, similar to the last two he gave me, only thisone feels deeper.
And then he inserts his fingers into me, and I worry it’s going to hurt, but it doesn’t. It feels good…so good. He rubs something inside me, while still licking me, and I explode. Fireworks flash behind my lids, and my body bows off the bed, as I come hard. I never understood why Blaire would tell me she couldn’t live without sex, but now… now I get it. Because we haven’t even had sex and I’m already addicted to the feeling an orgasm gives me.
As I come down from my climax, my body feels like jelly, and I’m suddenly exhausted. The bed dips slightly, and I open my eyes to find Ethan is still between my legs, only now his arms are caging me in, and he’s hovering above my naked body. His tongue darts out and he licks along his bottom lip, reminding me that that tongue and those lips were just on my most personal parts, bringing me an immense amount of pleasure.
The thought rekindles the fire in me, and I reach out and pull him down to me. Our mouths collide and I taste myself on him. My legs wrap around his backside, and even through his jeans, I can feel his hard length pushing against my sensitive center.
“Nevaeh,” Ethan groans.
“I want you,” I beg. “All of you.”
He breaks our kiss and shakes his head. “I’ve seen the list, baby. Not until you’re married.”
“I don’t care about that anymore,” I argue, understanding why so many people don’t wait until marriage to have sex. My body and hormones have completely taken over. They own me. Ethan owns me.
“Yes, you do,” he says, before running his tongue along mybottom lip. “You may think you don’t right now, but you do, and I’m not going to do something with you, you might regret later.” He kisses the corner of my mouth and then drops to the bed next to me, pulling me into his arms.
“I won’t regret it,” I tell him, but the conviction in my voice is gone. Deep down, I know he’s right, and the fact he even cares enough to stop only makes me fall that much harder.
Ethan grabs the blanket and pulls it over me. “Sleep,” he murmurs. “We have all the time in the world, baby.”
As my eyes flutter closed and my body melts against his, my last thought before I fall asleep is,I hope you’re right.
I wakeup and open my eyes. When a headache immediately hits, I close them and count to ten. The pain doesn’t decrease, but mentally, I block a lot of it out. When I reopen my eyes, the first thing I notice is Ethan’s warm body is no longer draped around mine. I roll over and the bed is empty. As I stand to go look for him, I realize I fell asleep naked. Grabbing the blanket off the bed, I wrap it around my shoulders to cover my body and then begin my search for him. I check the bathroom and living room and kitchen, but he’s nowhere. While I’m in the kitchen, I grab a couple pills from my purse and swallow them down with a glass of water. As I’m about to head back to the room to look for a phone to call him, I notice the sliding glass door is cracked open.
I pad across the room and when I get closer, I can make out Ethan’s silhouette in the dark. Opening the door wider, I step out onto the balcony. He’s lying on a comfy-looking day bed with a cigarpinched between his fingers. He glances up at me and spreads his legs, wordlessly indicating to join him.
Wrapping the blanket tighter around me, I pad across the balcony and drop in between his thighs, cuddling close to him. There’s a slight chill in the air, and I shiver, pulling the blanket even tighter. Ethan notices and runs his hands up and down my arms to warm me up. Within minutes I’m warmer and comfortable.
“Everything okay?” he asks.
I glance behind me and see him lift his head slightly, blowing out a plume of smoke. I’ve never smoked cigarettes, and when I’ve been around people who did, I didn’t understand the desire. But as I watch Ethan lazily bring his cigar to his lips and inhale, I can’t help thinking how sexy he looks. And now that I see him smoking, I recognize the smell. A few times I’ve smelled the scent on him, but I couldn’t pinpoint what it was. Now I know.
“You weren’t in bed,” I say, answering his question.
“My sleep habits are fucked,” he says, taking another pull of his cigar. “Probably from years of running clubs and casinos. I’m used to going to bed at four in the morning and waking up at ten.” He takes another drag of his cigar and turns his head away to blow the smoke out so it doesn’t hit me.
“I didn’t know you smoke,” I say. “I’ve smelled it on you, but didn’t know what it was. It smells different than cigarettes.” It smells sweet yet manly. That sounds stupid, like how does a cigar smell manly? But it does.
