After everything that's gone down today, a moment like this feels like a reward. One I want to drown myself in.
But I need her to know. I need her to understand what she's getting into.
"Listen, now is not the best time to tell you this, but I'm not a good man, Pen." The words come out rougher than I intend. "After everything I've done, I still can't get the thought of you out of my head. And these thoughts?" I squeeze her thighs, my thumbs digging into where they meet. "They're not just lighthearted, pleasant ones. Even now, all I can think about is getting my mouth on you."
"Leliah's sleeping," she murmurs, and I can't tell if it's to stop me or push me to continue. But then she's burying her fingers through my hair and kissing me again. "I should at least shower or something. We walked earlier and—"
I groan deep and pull back. "Fuck that. I want you as you come, no matter the time or day." My smile is back full force as I lean in to breathe her in. "You smell sweet as sugar, you know that?"
She scoffs and tries to swat me away, but I feel a laugh roll through her as I press my face into the curve of her stomach. Breathing in, my cock twitches beneath my jeans.
Despite how much I'd done today, I'd still been hard the moment I saw her in the kitchen. Because of her, I can't even control my own body. To have her right here, like this? That's something I'm happily willing to give up control for.
Tilting my head up to meet her gaze, my hands move up to cradle her thighs. "I've been wondering for days now if you taste just as sweet. Penny..." I tug her quickly enough to make her gasp. Right to the edge of the seat. I press my mouth to her stomach once more. Kissing my way down to her shorts, another groan escapes me. "Let me take care of you. I won't stop until you're satisfied. I promise."
She slides her fingers through my hair, running her nails against my scalp, and lets out the softest of sighs. "We have to be quiet."
I can do quiet, I think. If anything, I may get a little too caught up in how good she is. But there's only one way to find out if I still have any control over myself at all at this point.
With her permission and her dazed, watchful eyes, I drag my fingers over to the button on her shorts. Feeling oddly nervous, my eyes bounce between watching her expression and seeing the light blue of her underwear hiding beneath her denim. Once I'mdragging her zipper all the way down, my concentration sets on below as she lifts her hips to help me get them off.
Those creamy thighs of hers get exposed, and I can't tell if I want to leave her underwear on or not. They're nice underwear, and they're already a little damp, clinging to her slit. Fuck, all I want to do is stare and drink her in.
She makes it easier for me to decide by already pushing them off, too.
Maybe she can see the struggle to make up my mind. Or maybe she wants this just as much as I do.
She scoots to the edge of the couch, spreading out like an offering as she barely hangs on. It’s as if she knows exactly what she's doing to me, her toes curling from where they rest. We're both making ourselves struggle, aren't we?
Her pussy is pink. Flushed, just like the rest of her. Glossy with a thin layer of arousal that makes my mouth water before I've even tasted her.
I grin wolfishly as it finally hits me. This woman is mine. She’s not just offering up a meal for a king here, but she’s opened up her heart to me.
"Jesus, Pen." Shaking my head in disbelief, I lower my head and find out just how delicious she is.
She tastes like sin and sugar and everything I've been dreaming about for days. Her hips jerk the second my tongue makes contact, and I have to pin her down with my forearms to keep her from bucking right off the couch.
She clamps a hand over her own mouth when I find her clit. The sound she makes is a muffled whimper, and it only makes me hungrier. I lap at her like she's the only thing keeping me breathing, because right now? She is.
I'm getting warm. The leather of my cut is suddenly too heavy, too hot. I shrug it off without lifting my head, letting it fallsomewhere behind me. My shirt follows a second later, dragged over my head and tossed away, long forgotten.
My jeans are getting tighter by the second. I shift, grinding against the cushion just to feel something, and my hand moves on its own—palm pressing against the bulge straining beneath the denim.
Fuck.What I’d do to thrust into my fist to feel the same pleasure she is. Can’t risk staining anything. The longer I suffer, the more tempting it becomes to buy a new couch.
I work a finger inside her. Slow and careful. She's dripping wet, and when I curl it just right, her whole body arches off the couch.
"Take off your shirt," I murmur against her thigh. "I want to see you."
She doesn't hesitate. Her shirt is gone before I finish the sentence, pooled somewhere on the floor. The bra she’s got on is as basic as basic gets, but fuck, I’m sad to see it go before I can enjoy the way it offers support.
Thankfully, my sadness doesn’t last long.
Her breasts spill free, nipples peaked, and I have to physically stop myself from crawling up her body to taste them too.
A second finger joins the first. I curl them both, stroking that spot that makes her see stars, and watch as her hands find her own breasts. She squeezes them, fingers kneading soft flesh, and I think I might die right here.
Didn’t even have to beg her to do it, yet, here she is, making everything harder and better at the same time.
