“Yes,” he grunted. Everywhere I touched him his skinburned, his muscles locked tight. But then – he was pulling back, onto his knees, slowing this down with gentle caresses and soft pecks.
No!Everything in me protested. I didn’t want slow. I wanted him gasping. As satisfied as I was.
Once this ended . . . it was over. For good.
My hands were clumsy, far less skilled than his when I reached for him. Hit his abs before fumbling at his loosened towel. “I want you in my mouth. Please,” I begged.
“Fuck.” He started to draw his hips away. Wet hair standing on end, he looked absolutely wrecked. “You can do anything you want to me, Isla, I just need you on a bed.”
33
Alistair
My entire plan had gone to shit.
I’d dreamed of this moment so many times, weeks before I’d ever have admitted it out loud. How Isla would feel. What my name would sound like in her refined English accent when I was pushing inside her.
I had it scripted to a tee. All the ways I’d make her come. How many times.
Fingers. Tongue. Then my fingers again, so she’d know that none of this was a fluke. I was the one who could get her there.
Call me a possessive bastard, but I needed her to associate that kind of pleasure with me. What came next was where the plan usually went off the rails. I wanted Isla in every position I knew of and the ones I’d yet to learn. Sometimes fucking her from behind, her arse in my hands. Most of the time, her riding me as I just fucking lay there, staring. Blissed out of my mind. Then me going down on her again.
It always ended with her taste on my tongue, every time I imagined it.
But,god, no matter how many times I’d played this out, I hadn’t been prepared . . . hadn’t been ready for what the wordsI want you in my mouthwould do to me.
I hadn’t planned for that part.
We were in the middle of my bed. Frantically kissing. I’d lost the towel somewhere between the sofa and my bedroom, and I was doing my best not to work myself against the mattress. Her fingers were twisted in my hair, her thighs riding my hips, tugging me closer. To the only place I wanted to be.
Christ. If I’d known this was where we’d land, I’d have rubbed one out in the shower first. Taken the edge off.
If I was really wishing for things, I’d go back in time and smack myself over the head before I made that fucking payment. Then I wouldn’t be about to give the woman of my dreams the most frenzied fuck of my life, before she dressed, walked next door and I never saw her again.
I needed to stop.
Couldn’t stop.
Couldn’t stop kissing her.
Each kiss wet. Dirty. I loved it. The occasional gnash of teeth. The slide of saliva as we kissed over, over, over again. My breathless mouth trailed everywhere, her neck, her tits, heaving over the rucked-up fabric of her dress. I sucked her nipple into my mouth feeling the tight bud swell over my tongue, and she convulsed so forcibly, she slipped from my mouth with a wet pop.
“Alistair.”God, there it was. My name. Desperate. A little slurred.
She tilted her hips, dragging her lace-covered centre over my thigh. She needed to come again. “I’m going to take care of you,” I promised.
“Inside me, please.”Jesus, fuck.
I forced myself to pull back, hovering above her on myhands and knees. “Show me how you take off your dress, Isla. Exactly the way you planned.” My voice was so ragged, so desperate. I’d never been this frantic before.
From the hair, the make-up smeared down her chin and the frilly little cups of lace tucked beneath her gorgeous tits, Isla had planned on seducing me.
I was so well past seduced, but I wanted the show anyway. Wanted to memorise Isla slipping out of her pretty underwear and giving herself over to me.
I watched her brain tick, fighting to keep up. “Are you always this bossy with your overnight guests?”
“I don’t have overnight guests.” My gaze dragged over her blonde curls, now tangled around her head, to her swollen lips, her reddened tits. I’d never seen anything so perfect in my life. Anticipation welled inside me so dangerously I didn’t know where to start. The plan I’d spent weeks –months– visualising was going to shit. “Take off the dress, honey.”
