Man, I hope he knows how to use that thing.
My brain manages to refocus as he kneels next to the bed and picks up one foot, gingerly removing my shoe, then repeating the process with the other. He runs his smooth hands up my bare legs, and his fingers travel from my thighs to my hips and finally to the button of my shorts. I lift my hips for him, and he pulls them down slowly, watching everywhere his hands touch. When his eyes return to my center, his throat bobs on a swallow, almost as if he’s having the same reaction I had to seeing him. Like he can’t wait for a taste.
Instead of pulling my panties off, he braces a knee on the bed and leans over me to remove my shirt. He’s methodical, intentional, and he looks at me like he wants to remember everything about tonight.
Once I’m topless, left in nothing but the simple, hot-pink lacy boy shorts I picked out tonight, he blows out a slow breath. “Fuck, you are beyond…” He breaks off, and I might feel self-conscious if it weren’t for the way he licks his lips and reaches for his cock, giving it one long stroke.
“Goddamn, that’s hot.” Our eyes meet, and I part my legs for him, certain the tiny strip of cotton covering my pussy is soaked through.
“Elizabeth,” he whispers with a reverence that makes me want to shut my eyes and beg him to fuck me already.
Why did that feel so intimate? So personal? So…
“Is this all for me, darling?” The awe in his voice pulls me back into the moment, and I give him a simple nod, causing him to groan. For the first time since we were hastily kissing and grabbing at each other earlier, he moves like a man on a mission.
My underwear is practically torn off my body. “I need to see you,” he grunts. And fuck, the sound makes a new wave of arousal pool at my core.
As if programmed to do so, my legs once again part, giving him a full view of just about everything there is to see.
“Can I touch you?” His question is followed by his body, as naked as mine, warming me up as he hovers over me, soulful brown eyes asking for permission as much as his words are.
“You better,” I sass back, and his answering grin only turns me on more. It’s the fact he hasn’t once asked me to beless. Not even with his actions. It’s hard for people to hide their immediate reactions to things—the flinches and winces. Peter hasn’t done either. Not once. I know it usually comes with time. I’ve learned that the hard way, but even if just for tonight, I can have someone not chastise me for being too much—too bossy, too loud, too crass, too soft, too…anything—it would feel like a small miracle. No, it would feel like a big one.
Peter’s fingers dance over my collarbone, setting goosebumps off all over my skin. He heads lower, stopping to pinch my nipples and circle my belly button. “Still with me, darling?” Our gazes meet again, and I give him a quiet “yeah,” and then he’s finally where I want him.
There’s nothing tentative about his touch. It’s confident, completely certain of its path, and when he parts my lips to run two fingers from my entrance to my clit, moaning at the contact, I nearly buck off the bed.
“Fuck, Beth,” he whispers, and the nickname, one no one else has ever given me before, makes my entire body tingle. “Lookat you. So wet. So hot.” He continues circling my clit, spreading my wetness around and over it, testing the pressure of his touch until I whimper a soft “yes.”
That one little word is all he needs. As his fingers continue their good work, his lips land on my nipple, sucking and pulling. “Can I touchyou?” I ask on a pant.
“Always,” comes his quick answer. My hand reaches for his nipple, needing to feel the place he clearly enjoys stimulation, because otherwise those piercings would not exist. With his mouth on my skin, he whimpers, and that sound—that desperate, needy sound—sends me over the edge, and I tremble as the force of my orgasm hits me.
Peter releases my breast to watch me writhe beneath him, soaking the duvet on what was a perfectly made bed fifteen minutes ago. He doesn’t relent. Not until I gasp at the extreme sensitivity. Then, and only then, does he lift his hand to his mouth. He sucks his fingers, closing his eyes as he hums around them.
I don’t remember the last time a man made me come. Couldn’t tell anyone how long it took to happen the last time I was with a guy. I can safely say it took a hell of a lot longer than a few minutes, though, and a fuck ton more than two fingers on my clit and his mouth on my nipple.
But Peter…fuck. Peter is not any of those guys. Peter pays attention, and I’m already glad this guy has a home far away to go to, because if he were here, I’m not sure I’d be able to keep this to a one-night thing. No way. I’d want orgasms like this regularly, and that’s not something I’ve allowed myself to want for a long time.
And that’s an uncomfortable, unwelcome thought.
CHAPTER 6
DO YOU HAVE MAGICAL SWEAT?
DARCY
There’s soft light coming in through the window, like the sun is struggling to fight against the clouds and make itself known. Normally, I love the sunshine, but today, I’m glad it’s staying hidden a little longer so I can take in the woman sleeping next to me.
Her face is smashed up against my arm, one hand clutching my biceps in a vise grip, and the other resting on my chest. Her leg is thrown over one of mine, her thigh dangerously close to the morning wood that’s extra woody, thanks to us both being naked.
She’s stunning. Lovely, really.
I’ve never woken up so content in my whole life, and that thought alone is enough to make my heart stall. Is this me finding something—or someone—that brings me a bit of joy and pushing them to the forefront of my thoughts because they’ve been so dark lately? Or is she reallythatspecial? That wonderful. That sexy, and weird, and sassy, and funny, and…
The smattering of freckles on her cheek distracts me from the spiral as I count them. Seven little dots on her left cheek.
I wonder if the right matches.
