She took two steps and then kissed me again, twining her arms around my neck. It was soft, sweet, and not nearly enough. “Kiss me, Brogan.” Her words teased my lips.
“Fiona—”
“I’m the one crossing the line,” she whispered. “Kiss me.”
I broke.
My mouth slanted over hers, my tongue sliding past her teeth and sinking into her. Damn, she tasted like the cherries we’d picked up at the market and that sweet, unidentifiable flavor that was all Fiona.
Fuck, yes.
I kissed her until we both struggled to catch our breath, and then I kissed her until we forgot about breathing. Lifting her by those sweet hips, I pivoted, putting her down on the kitchen counter so we were almost the same height, and then I kissed her some more.
“Brogan.” Her hands tunneled through my hair, and when she split her knees, I spread her thighs and stepped between them.
I fucking loved the way she said my name, how I was never Demon or Grant to her. I wasn’t just a name on a jersey or a guy on the roster for the Reapers. She saw me. Good and bad. Tired and rested. Patient and shook. Fiona saw me.
“You taste so damn good,” I said, sliding into her mouth again. Need fueled my blood—the need to taste her, to get closer to her, to hear what her cries sounded like when she came. That need blasted past every warning system my brain possessed and roared through me with an urgency I’d never experienced before.
She kissed me back with soft sighs, light nips of her teeth, and a silken tongue that was slowly driving all sanity from me. Her hips rocked, and I grabbed the globes of her ass and tugged, bringing her flush against me.
She gasped, her grip tightening in my hair as she glanced between us.
“Yeah, I’m hard for you,” I growled against her mouth, her jaw, her throat. “I’m always hard for you. You walk down the hall, and I’m hard. You come downstairs out of the shower, with your hair wet and smelling like sunshine, and I’m fucking hard. You smile, and I’m hard.” I ground against her so she could feel exactly what I was talking about.
“I didn’t know—”
“That I think about you all the damn time?” I kissed down her throat, worshipping every inch of skin I could before reaching the neckline of her V-neck tee. “Because I do, and if you even think of saying ‘I’m sorry,’ then this stops right here.”
She tugged on my hair and I brought my face to hers. “I’m not sorry,” she whispered.
“Thank fuck.” I speared my fingers through her hair, loosening her ponytail, and kissed her deep. Her hair felt like strands of satin, as soft and strong as she was.
When she rocked her hips against mine again, I angled us so the next time she did it—
“Brogan,” she moaned as her clit rubbed against my cock through the layers of fabric that separated us.
I sent my hand up her shirt and she broke our kiss long enough to rip her own shirt off over her head, leaving her in a front-zip sports bra.
“If I’d known we’d be doing this, I would have chosen something a little sexier,” she laughed.
“It’s sexy as hell.” I gripped the zipper between my thumb and forefinger, then met her eyes as I drew it down, watching for any hesitation.
She flat-out grinned at me as it opened, revealing the two prettiest breasts I’d ever seen. They were more than enough to fill my hands and tipped with hard nipples that begged for my mouth.
Or maybe my mouth begged for them. Either way, I sucked one tip between my lips and flicked the peak with my tongue.
“Holy shit,” she whispered, her nails scoring the back of my neck as I continued the delicate torture, sipping on one breast and then the other.
“Perfect.” I dragged my teeth over one nipple and she moaned. “So fucking perfect.”
Her hips rolled with mine, and it was all I could do not to rip away the rest of the fabric between us and drive into her. My cock throbbed, beating in time with my heart, and the pleasure of dry-humping her like a teenager in the backseat of a car was already spinning, knotting at the base of my spine.
I was going to come like a fucking sophomore if I didn’t get ahold of myself.
Then she slid her hand down my lower back, slipping past the waistband of my athletic pants and my boxer briefs, gripping my ass, and I fucking lost all semblance of control.
“I want to hear you come,” I growled against her ear, my teeth raking along the delicate shell as my fingers trailed down her stomach, stopping at the barrier of her yoga pants.
She whimpered and rolled her hips against mine in response, squeezing my ass for good measure.
“You have to say it, Fiona.” There would be zero confusion here, no lines that we weren’t crossing together.
“Yes, Brogan,” she whispered, turning her face to mine and kissing me.
“What if I want to touch you?” I breached the barrier of her pants and kept going down. I wanted the fucking things on the ground, but if that happened, I’d be inside her in a heartbeat. That might make for a hard, satisfying ride, but I wanted more, wanted to feel her come on my fingers, to feel that delicate shudder of her muscles so she knew exactly what I was capable of doing to her before we took it there.
“Touch whatever you want.” She arched, giving me better access, and I took it, sending my hand past the delicate band of her—yeah, that was a thong—and grazing my fingers along the seam of her pussy.
“Fuck, you’re wet, sweetheart.” My words came out a little strangled.
She whimpered in response.
“What if I want to touch you here?” I ran my fingers from her opening to her clit, barely skimming the swollen flesh.
“Yes.” She nodded and sucked my lower lip lightly before kissing me.
I groaned at the slick feel of her on my fingers, at the taste of her tongue in my mouth, at the way she arched into my touch. So damned good.
“What if I want to feel you around my fingers?” I slid the tip of one finger just inside her and barely bit back a groan. Hot, wet, velvet.
“Yes, Brogan,” She abandoned my ass and took my face in her hands. “You can do whatever you want to me.”
“You are so damned beautiful.” Our eyes locked and our breathing ragged, I stroked inside her with one finger, trembling slightly when she squeezed me tight.
“God,” she moaned, throwing her head back.
I thrust in another finger and then pumped into her, finding a rhythm that made her breath hitch and her grip tighten on my shoulders. Her hips rolled, riding my hand. It was the hottest thing I’d ever seen, and I couldn’t even see it.
Next time I’d spread her out on my bed and take my time with her.
“Your fingers are... so. Damn. Good.”
I swirled my thumb over her clit, then strummed it lightly as I kissed her jaw, her cheek, her ear. “Just wait until it’s my tongue, Fiona. You think this is good? I’ll have you screaming my name when it’s my mouth on you.”
She cried out as I rubbed my thumb against her clit, giving her the friction she craved as she fucked my fingers. Her thighs shivered around my hips, the tremors coming on stronger by the second, and her breaths came in uneven gasps.
“You’re so close,” I whispered. “Come on, sweetheart, let me feel you touch the stars.”