It blows every fantasy I ever built clean out of the water.
Her dress, when it slides off her arms under my hands, slow and deliberate, falls to the floor in a gentle swoosh.
I don’t rush.
I won’t rush this part.
I want to feel every inch of her as she’s revealed to me, like I’m committing her to memory.
Her skin is warm.
Soft.Glowing like honey.
Alive under my palms.
She smells good.All honey and cinnamon.Sweet.Clean.
That hint of something spicy that makes my blood run hotter.
I inhale near her neck and close my eyes for half a second.
I like it.
I really fucking like it.
My hands move over her waist, her hips, reverent and greedy all at once.
She arches into me.
Fuck, she arches and I lose my mind.
Her taut nipples bite against my bare chest—shirt off and forgotten somewhere in my desperation to get us both naked—in a way that makes my control hang by a thread.
The rest of her is so soft,so fucking hot.
As I hold her to my chest, sipping sweetly from her lips, my cock threatens to punch a hole through the thin barrier of fabric that is my boxers.
A low, raw sound tears out of me before I can stop it.
She doesn’t shrink.
She leans closer.
“Fuck,” I breathe against her mouth, my forehead dropping to hers for just a second as I try to steady the inferno building under my skin.“Honey, I’m hungry for you, too.”
Hungry doesn’t even begin to cover it.
I’ve wanted this woman for so long the need feels like it’s etched into my bones.
Now that she’s here—choosing me back—every second of waiting feels unbearable.
My hands slide lower, then back up, mapping her curves like I have all the time in the world, even though inside I’m shaking with need.
I dip my fingers beneath the elastic waistband of those sexy as fuck panties she’s wearing—they’re thin, sheer, and so damn soft—until I brush against the soft curls covering her sex.
“J.T.,” she moans, eyes rolling back as I slide through her slickness, rubbing the pad of my thumb over her hard little clit.
“Fuck, Honey, you’re sopping wet for me.Fucking soaked.”
