“No.” I grab his hands and place them directly on me again, and a corner of his lips quirks up, amused. He watches every reaction, catalogs every gasp, every tremor.
Cool air hits my skin. I'm wearing a simple white bra, nothing special or sexy, but the way he looks at me makes me feel like I'm wrapped in luxury. “My god, you're so fucking beautiful.”
His hand hovers over my stomach, not quite touching. “May I?”
My heart thunders. “Please.”
His palm flattens against my rib cage, and heat radiates from that one point of contact. His massive, scarred hand is so warm. He slides it up slowly, his thumb brushing the underside of my breast.
My back arches off the bed. I want him to touch me. I want him to touch me everywhere.
“Sensitive here,” he says, his accent thick. “Look at you, my beautiful girl. You're so responsive, aren't you?” I can't trust myself to speak right now, so I only nod. His smile is pure, unadulterated sin. “Good to know.”
He leans down and presses his mouth to my stomach, right above my navel, an open-mouthed kiss that's warm and wet, making my abs clench. I'm so sensitive there.
“Ashland, you can't—” He takes my wrists and pins them on either side of me. “Can't what?” he growls.
“Do you mean to tell me that you just told me to take you… that you've given me full permission, and now you're telling me what I can't do? What are you afraid of?”
“You know…” I say, gesturing to my curves. “I can't… I just… I don't?—”
“I know how you feel about yourself,” he says roughly. “You've said it. But I want you to know something right now, Bianca.”
He tips my chin up so my eyes are directly focused on his. There's nothing but sincerity in his gaze when he says to me, “I will worship your body night and day untilyou see that you're worthy of a shrine. Do you understand me?”
I nod.
“Are you going to behave yourself, or do I need to warm you up with a spanking before I continue?”
I shiver. My pussy aches, and yeah, I… “I… I want that. But not—not now,” I whisper.
Just for the hell of it, he bends down, rolls me over, and gives me a good, hard slap on the arse that sends arousal straight to my core. “Good girl,” he growls.
“Now, let me worship you. Not another word or I'll give you a proper spanking. Do you understand me?” The heat in his gaze tells me he knows exactly how turned on I get with the threat.
I nod. “Yes, sir.”
His stubble scrapes against my skin, and the sensation shoots straight between my thighs.
“You smell so good. Vanilla. Something sweet.” He presses a kiss, then another just below my bra. “Like summer.”
My hands reach for his head and I hold him there, needing the contact and the reassurance of my man against me. He kisses across my ribs, then down, following the line of my hip. His hands work on my jeans, undo the button, and I lift my hips to help him slide them down.
“So eager,” he murmurs against my hip bone, his Irish accent thick. “My sweet, eager girl.” The denim drags down my legs, torturously slow.
When I'm in nothing but my bra and panties, he groans. “Perfect. You're fuckingperfect.”
His hands run up my calves, my knees, my thighs. “Fucking hell, lass.” Every touch leaves a trail of fire because my skin is so sensitive.
Every nerve ending is screaming. I'm trembling, and he's barely touched me. He settles between my thighs, his broad shoulders forcing my legs apart.
It's obscene and intimate, and when his breath ghosts across my inner thigh, I nearly die. “Ashland, my god. What are you?—”
“Shh,” he whispers and presses a kiss to my thigh. “Trust me. Are you alright?” His beautiful eyes meet mine. “Do you want me to stop?”
“I—yeah, I—” I swallow hard.
He reaches his left hand to mine and entwines our fingers, holding my hand. “Breathe, Bianca. Take in a deep breath and let it out slowly. Just like that. That’s my girl. Do you want me to stop?”
