Winger doesn’t even try to hide the fact that he’s running his eyes over every inch of my exposed flesh through the sheer cover-up, which allows me to admire his body in return. He’s shirtless and wearing a pair of black board shorts that are low on his hips, showcasing all the ink on his abdomen. There’s a line of dark hair under his belly button that dips into his shorts, balanced by the smattering of hair on his chest. I try to make my eyes go back to his face, but those tattoos draw my eyes down.
The only hint of color comes from a broken skull with shadowy red flames reflected in the eyes. It’s eerie and beautiful. Delicate scripts I can’t read but would like to get up close and personal with sit on the other side of his stomach. They are framed by geometric shapes and swirls that I’d like to trace with my fingertips and then my tongue.
He’s gorgeous, brutally so. There is no mistaking what Winger is when you look at him. He doesn’t try to hide it with clothes or put on a façade the world would be more comfortable with. He lives in his skin and gives a big fuck you to anyone who wants to judge him for it. That attitude has spoken to me since I first laid eyes on him and I realized he would have helped whoever was in the alley and asked for nothing in return.
My eyes jump to his face when he speaks. “You look…” He covers his mouth with his hand, drawing his fingers down his jaw and making a rasping sound from his stubble, as if he’s at a loss for words. I shift on my feet, waiting for him to finish.
I was nervous to come out of the room. The fact that he runs a strip club filled with women with near perfect bodies was in the back of my head. I was wondering if he would count my flaws, but he doesn’t look disappointed. He looks at me like he’s starving, and he makes me feel sexy.
“Stunning,” he finishes.
I pull my shoulders back a little more and stand confidently under his appraisal. His reaction is genuine. He likes what he sees, even if I’m not perfect.
The heat between us that never seems to die warms again, building to something completely new and a little frightening in its intensity.
I take one step closer to him, and I know he sees it as my acquiescence when he eats up the remaining space and presses his body against mine. I feel his hardness against me, and there’s no part of me that wants to flee from him.
Anticipation fills me until I feel the desire to touch him and be touched by him. It rocks the limitations I always assumed would be with me, yet I want nothing between us now but skin. I lift my hand and trail my fingers from his shoulder down his chest, where our bodies are already joined, then to his side and around his back.
He touches me too. His fingers are on the back of my neck, and he tilts my head as our mouths meet. The kiss is soft and coaxing, and I feel like I’ll scream if he doesn’t touch more of me. As if reading my thoughts, or the impatience of my last sigh, he slides his hand down my back and roughly pulls me against him with his fingers curled over my ass and dipping between my legs.
Need like I’ve never experienced before assaults me, and it’s so overwhelming, I almost shove him back. My nipples are hard and aching, and I know I’m wet between my legs.
“Max,” he says between kisses, reminding me that I’m here with him. I’m safe, and this is normal. It’s okay to want him to do things to me and to want to do them to him in return.
I realize I stopped kissing him, and I’m frozen.
“Is this too much? Do you want me to stop?” He nibbles my lips, but I know the offer isn’t empty. One word, and he will rip himself away from me and we will start this dance again.
I tighten my grip on him and shake my head, giving him the smallest of denials.
“Are you sure?” He nuzzles me sweetly.
“I’m positive. I want you to touch me. Don’t ask me again.” I say the last part with more impatience than I intended, but it must work, because his lips are on mine again and he’s stealing my breath, my worries, with his hands and tongue.
We end up on the couch. He lies flat on his back with his hands on my hips, while I straddle his waist. The thin barriers between us feel like nothing and too much at the same time. I can feel the shape and size of him, the heat of us, but I need skin.
Winger’s hands slide up my back as he angles his head, deepening the kiss. My hips start to move, rocking and sliding as I look for friction I can’t seem to manage through our suits. He slides his fingers between my legs, teasing and touching, while he pushes the fabric to the side.
The sound he makes when he slips two fingers into my slit and feels how wet I am for him threatens to undo me. It’s rough, masculine, and needy, yet still powerful.
When he circles my clit, everything inside me freezes. It feels so fucking good, so much better than when I touch myself. It’s almost frightening how good it feels, and I start to feel a tremor of panic.
I open my eyes and find Winger staring up at me, and that grounds me. My body moves with his touches, and our breaths mingle as he coaxes me toward my first orgasm that isn’t self-induced.
Our lips brush now and again, and he nips at my mouth. I nibble on his in return, but I’m too focused on the way he’s touching me to put any real effort into kissing. He shifts his fingers to slide one inside me while his thumb continues to work my clit.
The dual sensations push me closer to the edge. “I’m going to come,” I whisper in awe, even though I probably shouldn’t be surprised.
“Do you want me inside you, Max?”
“God, yes,” I answer before I can let my nerves take over.
Winger’s suit gets shoved down, and mine is still only pulled to the side when he guides my hips back, fisting the base of his dick as I sink onto him. His eyes close as he tilts his head back. “Fucking hell.” He groans, and I’m able to see the tiny triangle tattoo below his ear.
I lean down, running my nose over his skin. His scent is almost as intoxicating as his touch. Everything about him draws me in. I gasp when I feel the metal of his piercing slip inside me. I’d nearly forgotten about that, but I won’t ever again.
I sit up slowly, taking him deeper and deeper until my ass is cradled in his lap. Winger’s hands slide up my sides, going to my breasts as he rolls my nipples and lifts his hips so all I have to do is lean back while he fucks me.
