This time, I groaned, the sound desperate and needy. Then I felt his hands on my hips as he spun me around. I wanted to lean back into him, but he pushed me forward until I caught myself on the sink.
Zip.
My dress abruptly loosened and fell off my shoulders. My mind was still scrambling to get a grip on what was happening, to slow it down. But while I was busy trying to think, my hands lifted off the sink and let the dress drop to the floor.
“Copper lace,” he murmured, commenting on the color of my bra as he stepped up behind me. I could feel his heat on my back, the hot caress of his breath against my ears. But what I saw was his gaze on my breasts.
“Same color as your hair in sunlight,” I said. His gaze moved to mine, and my mouth went dry. “I have your calendar in my bedroom,” I explained.
His brows shot up. “In your bedroom? When you touch yourself?”
I nodded, my face burning hot.
He popped the hooks on my bra. A quick pinch and I let it drop to the floor.
So there I was standing in my copper panties with my full breasts free. He stood behind me, not touching me, but his eyes burned where they looked at my tight nipples.
“Let me see what you do.” It wasn’t a question, but it wasn’t quite a command either.
It didn’t matter. I wouldn’t refuse him. My breasts had been aching to be touched since the beginning of batting practice. I cupped them and lifted, squeezing slightly. And in the mirror, I watched him watch my hands.
Suddenly he made a sound of frustration. “That’s not how you do it,” he said. And he was right. I wasn’t really focusing on how I felt. Just on how he looked, watching me. “Let me?”
I nodded.
His hands replaced mine. Large. Calloused. Strong. He lifted me and squeezed, but then he began to pinch my nipples. Lightly at first, then a pull and twist. I gasped at the first contact and then began to tingle as he continued. Pinches became startled breaths. Pulls became contractions in my belly. And pain shot lightning to my womb.
I felt his mouth on my neck, firm and wet as he stroked my skin with his tongue. I arched, pressing my breasts into his hands and stretching my bottom to his groin. But he kept away. And when I whimpered in frustration, he bit down on my neck. Not hard, not even enough to break the skin. But I felt the compression, and I stilled while my body thrummed in hunger.
He didn’t say a word, but our eyes locked in the mirror. And then those large tanned hands left my breasts to stroke down my arms, stopping where my fingers curled around the sink edge.
I knew he wanted me to stay still, to just stand there and watch while he did things to my body. Or maybe I was the one who wanted it.
So I waited. Would he do it? Take me right here from behind? Or would he just look at me like he was now, with those dark, intense eyes? My blood burned from just the thought that he might touch me. He might take me. I’d wanted this since that first kiss New Year’s Eve.
“Not a sound, Gia,” he whispered.
I pressed my lips together.
“Silent, or I stop. Understand? Cry out, and I’ll know you don’t want it.”
But I did want it. Every part of me wanted it. So I nodded slowly, trying to get him to please, please, please touch me.
A moment later, he did. He pressed his lips to my neck again. The scrape of his teeth along my skin had me whimpering in hunger, but the moment the sound came out, he froze then stepped back.
My eyes locked on his through the mirror.
“Understand?” he asked again.
I nodded. Silent. It had to be silent.
I pressed my lips together, and he came back. But this time, he put his hands on my breasts. Large tanned hands on my pale skin. I’d never thought the sight would be so erotic. And it felt amazing.
And then, as if to reward me, he stepped closer.
Finally!
His body was large behind me, and his erection pressed into my ass through his uniform. I pressed back. God, it felt huge, but I wanted it. He was hard against my back while his right hand pressed against my belly. Close. So close. He held me there as his hand slid down and pushed beneath my panties. His hand speared between my thighs, and a finger slipped easily between my folds.
