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I turned to him and reached first, pressing my palm to his chest. His heart beat steady and strong beneath my hand, unlike mine, which was hammering wildly.
“I’m nervous,” I whispered.
“I know.”
“I’ve never...”
His lips curved faintly. “I know, you don’t have to if you don’t want to.”
“It’s just everything is happening so quickly. I don’t want to be just another girl to you.”
He brushed my hair away from my face. “You could never be that to me.”
Tears gathered in my eyes. “Richard…”
He waited until I looked at him again.
“You mean everything to me,” he said.
I rose onto my toes and kissed him. His hands roamed my waist, then up my back, learning every curve through my top with a patience that made my nipples harden and my core ache. When his fingers found the hem, he paused, eyes on mine. I raised my arms. He peeled the top off and let it drop. Cool air kissed my skin. I stood there in my bra and skirt, suddenly hyper-aware of my body.
His gaze dragged over me like a physical touch, hot, hungry, reverent.
I started to cover myself.
“Don’t.” The quiet command froze me in place. He stepped closer, voice dropping to a gravelly rasp. “I want to see every inch of you.”
He unclasped my bra with one hand. The straps slid down. My breasts spilled free, nipples hard and aching. He tilted my chin up before I could look away.
“Eyes on me.”
His eyes lowered to my chest. Then his large palm cupped one breast, thumb circling the stiff peak until I gasped. He lowered his mouth, sucking my nipple, tongue flicking while his hand kneaded the other. Pleasure shot straight to my clit. I gripped his shoulders, a needy moan slipping out before I could stop it. He switched to the other breast and sucked harder.
I reached for his shirt with shaking fingers, fumbling the buttons. He let me. When I finally pushed it off, my mouth went dry. Lean, hard muscle. I ran my hands down his chest, over the ridges of his abs, stopping at his belt.
He covered my hand with his. “You don’t have to rush.”
But I wanted to. I wanted him so badly it hurt.
He undid his belt and pushed his slacks down, revealing boxer briefs stretched tightly over him. My gaze dropped to the thick outline beneath the fabric. He hooked his thumbs into the waistband and pulled them down, freeing his cock. It was long and thick, the head already glistening with pre-cum. My thighs clenched at the sight.
He unfastened my skirt. It pooled at my feet. I stood in just my panties, arms wrapping around myself again.
His hand slid down my stomach, fingers slipping beneath the waistband of my panties. “May I?”
“Yes.”
He pushed the fabric down my thighs until it fell at my ankles. His large hand cupped my pussy. I was soaked, like embarrassingly wet. His fingers glided through my slick center. I gasped into his mouth as he kissed me, one thick finger circling my entrance before pressing inside.
“Mmm, you’re so wet,” he groaned against my lips.
He worked me open patiently, adding a second finger while his thumb stroked my swollen clit. My hips rocked against his hand, chasing the building pleasure. He curled his fingers and found a spot that made me cry out. My thighs began to shake.
He guided me back onto the bed with firm hands that left trails of heat on my skin. The cool silk sheets pressed against my overheated body, a shocking contrast that made me shiver and arch all at once. My heart hammered wildly in my chest as Richard positioned himself between my spread thighs, his broad shoulders flexing under the low lamplight. He took his time, kissing a slow path down my body. His lips brushed my stomach, then my hips, then the sensitive skin of my inner thighs, each press of his mouth sending sparks racing through my veins.
I was already trembling by the time his breath ghosted over my dripping pussy.
“Richard,” I gasped.
