“Can you—” She stops herself, a blush creeping onto her cheeks.
“Can I what?” I urge her, “You can ask me anything.”
“Can you use your mouth like you just did with your fingers?”
I grin, “You want my mouth on these perfect tits?”
“Yes,” she hisses it out as I run my tongue over one nipple and then the other, closing my lips around it and scraping my teeth gently over the hardened bud.
She responds so beautifully to my touch, needy and hot, just like she makes me. I use my mouth on one breast and my hand on the other, working her up with this alone, until I feel her begin to roll her hips as best she can while sitting on the counter.
“Fuck,” I grumble against her, “I could lose myself in you.”
Her fingers slide into my hair and then she curls them, forcing me to stay against her as if I’d want to be anywhere else. We need to move, go into the bedroom in case Caleb or Rosie wakes up. We have time; it’s still too early for them, and I want to be able to lay Juni out. Explore every inch of her, learn her body and how it ticks.
“I’m going to take you to the bedroom,” I force myself away from her. “Hold on to me.”
She does as I ask, and I lift her off the counter, carrying her through to my bedroom where I then kick the door closed and stride to the bed, spinning so I sit on the mattress and she’s straddling my lap.
“You’re in control, Honeybee,” I tell her gently, hands running over the curve of her waist. “You tell me what you want, and if you want to stop, we stop, you understand? You will always be in control.”
She nods softly.
“Words, Juni,” I rasp, “Tell me you understand.”
“I understand,” she says breathlessly. “I want you.”
“You have me,” I promise her, “Now tell me what you want me to do.”
Chapter Twenty-three
Both nerves and need rattle through me. My skin is on fire, my thighs are aching, and my heart is racing. Part of me wants to run and hide, but a bigger piece, the piece that’s fueling my every move, is desperate to taste him, to feel him, to have him inside of me.
I’ve never felt a need like it. No man has ever made me feel this damnferal.
I’m straddling his lap and I shuffle back a little, reaching for the hem of his shirt so I can see him. He lifts his arms for me, letting me remove it, and I throw it behind me. I drop my eyes, taking in the dips and valleys of his abs, the dusting of hair across his chest and the trail that disappears under the band of his pants.
“You’re so beautiful, Silas,” I breathe, tracing every curve of his muscle, hard as stone and honed from years of working a ranch.
He chuckles roughly, “Not sure I’ve ever been called beautiful before.”
My eyes flick back to his, “You are.”
His eyes soften, “I hope you look at yourself the same way you’re looking at me.”
Hands gently push up my top, slow at first, hesitant, and he asks with his eyes if it’s okay. I dip my chin in a small nod, lifting my arms for him to remove my shirt. The air brushes on my skin, making it pebble and my nipples peak to the temperature change. For a moment I want to cover myself, but then I catch the heat in Silas’s eyes, the way he devours me without ever lifting a finger. He looks at me like I am a work of art.
“So damn pretty, Juni,” he growls, “I never want to look away.”
Sliding back down, I settle over the hard length and lean down, cupping his face so I can kiss him. He cranes his neck back, allowing me between his lips with my tongue while his hands squeeze my hips, slowly rolling me over his cock. Despite the layers of fabric between us, I feel every grind as if it’s skin to skin, the pleasure only pushing me higher. It’s a coil, winding tighter the more I move over him, the position allowing just enough friction against my clit.
I’ve had orgasms before, of course, but only ever by my own hand or toys I’ve had to hide. I could only bring them out when I knew Cal would be away, and I thought it was enough to ease the tension brimming inside of me. I was always taught sex and pleasure were something to be ashamed of, that getting off was never a guarantee, but I liked sex and I wanted to finish, but it was always denied. I know my body; I know what I need to do, how I need to angle my hips and move my fingers, but this right here isn’t any of that. This is a simple, raw need that has me drenching my panties and has my muscles twitching. It’s the start of my climax, the warning tingles that rush down my thighs, the zaps of pleasure that shoot up my spine…
I’m going to come, and he hasn’t even touched me yet.
As much as I try to stop, I can’t. The finish line is right there and I’m hurtling toward it, but I stifle it, hide it so he can’t see.
My hips stutter, the rhythm disrupted, so I simply deepen the kiss, pushing myself onto him, covering it up.
