I still don’t know if I’m ready for where this is going, but the answer to the question of whether I want it is pretty clear.
Hell, yes!
To my surprise, Theo’s hand travels up instead of diving down. His long, deft fingers brush along my jawline, cheeks and chin. I moan softly as he trails his thumb over my lips, applying just the right amount of pressure to stoke the fire growing inside me. He grunts in response, his hot breath puffing against my cheek.
No words need to be spoken. We’re both adults. We know what happens next, and that it’s only a matter of time before it happens. Somewhere between Theo’s laying down next to me and this moment, we passed the point of no return. Or maybe we passed it when we read Simon’s letter, and it just took us this long to realize it.
The rough pad running over my lips is too good to resist. I part them. The tip of my tongue darts out and gives Theo’s thumb a tentative lick.
“Elise,” he rasps, moving this thumb against my tongue, pushing in.
I suckle on every raised, messy scar of it.
His low groan adds even more sweetness to the act. He alternates kisses with gentle bites, putting more of his weight on me, imprinting his cock against the small of my back. His thumb is now moving in and out of my mouth, shamelessly imitating an act I crave.
The want and tense anticipation build to a level that’s almost violent. I want him more than I’ve ever wanted a man in my life, ugly scars and all. I want to feel him in every way, I’m dying to see if he has the game to back up the tease.
The need consumes me and then it explodes. Twisting in the tight space, I turn around to face him. I reach up to his lips, but he pushes me downward to his chest.
All right, then.Lips can wait.
My hands search, feeling the power and the heat of his brawny torso. I grip the hemline of his soft wool sweater, push it up together with the shirt underneath and run my hands over the finely sculpted muscles of his abs and chest. My hands grope him, while my punch-drunk mind revels in his strength but also in the gnarled roughness of his skin. His chest rises and falls as his breathing grows heavier and his heart beats faster. I keep my palm against it for a while. It’s shocking how much he turns me on at this moment.
Theo dips his hands into the neckline of my sweater, stroking my shoulders and the collarbones. Then he slides his hand in from below, unclasps my bra, and—finally!—cups my breasts. It’s a wonderful feeling.
“They’re perfect,” he says. “Your breasts are perfect, just as I expected.”
I grip my bunched sweater and yank it higher still, arching into his touch.
He skims his thumbs over my nipples, coaxing a gasp out me. On a second pass, he grazes the pads over my hardening peaks. I whimper. Encouraged, he rubs harder and rolls my nipples between his forefinger and thumb. His mouth descends on my left nipple, while his fingers keep pinching the right one in a most exquisitely erotic way. But what his mouth does is even more arousing. His strong tongue, which I can’t wait to feel in my mouth, flicks over my stiff point, circles it, lashes at it. He draws my nipple into his mouth and sucks on it, hard.
That’s it, I’m ready.
I reach down and fumble with the buttons on his pants. Will his cock be just as scarred as the rest of him?Yes, it is!As it fills my palm, I wrap my fingers around its thick length and stroke, exploring the shape of it, and the raised marks.
“It’s perfect,” I say, echoing his earlier comment. “Just as I expected.”
“It isn’t smooth.”
“No kidding.”
He gives a husky, sexy chuckle. “What I’m trying to say is that it may chafe.”
“I don’t think so.”
“You’ll find out the hard way,” he warns me on a sigh. “I never have sex without extra lubricant. Unfortunately, there’s none at hand.”
Manners stop me from informing him I’m so wet we won’t need any extra lubricant. But no matter! In a moment, he’ll find out theslipperyway.
Releasing him, I unzip my pants and move higher up. My intention is to kiss him on the mouth and to make it easier for him to finger my center.
He grabs my shoulders and turns me around.
I wriggle back to face him.
He turns me around again. “This is how I do it, Elise.”
I’m about to point out there are two of us “doing it,” and that a gentleman would let the lady decide. But something stops me. With this guy, I keep getting a strong “my way or the highway” vibe accompanied by an iron will. If I insist, we’ll find ourselves in a standoff. And in that standoff, I’ll be the one bluffing. Because, despite his arousal, he’ll be able to stop, while I… I’m desperate for more.
