He’s seated on the chair across from me, gripping a small glass of liquor in his hand. His eyes look lost, distant, as he lifts the glass to his lips, tossing back what’s left. He grits his teeth, leaning forward to set the empty glass on the coffee table, and as he does, his eyes lock on mine.
His nostrils flare, his chest puffing out with a deep inhale while we stare at each other. Something about his look forces a shift between us. The stillness of the dark night seems to strip away our walls.
I lose track of time and eventually, my eyes break apart from his, traveling down to the white t-shirt he’s still wearing. I pause, lingering on how his legs sit open, the relaxed way his body reclines in the seat. Maybe it’s the liquor, but he looks so much like he did the night we kissed. Calmer, more at ease, and it’s a comforting sight.
“You talk in your sleep.”
My brows furrow. I prop up on my elbow, running my hand over my hair, checking to make sure my wild locks haven’t managed to break free.
“I do?”
He nods, finally breaking my stare to look back at the fire.
My mind tries to sift through any recollection of what I may have been dreaming about, but I come up empty. I don’t normally remember my dreams, at least not in detail, and the ones I do are often memories. What if it had to do with the night we kissed?
A flush creeps across my cheeks, dipping my chin down toward my chest, wondering what I may have said aloud with my guard down.
I rake my teeth over my lower lip, anxious for him to tell me what I may have said. He turns back toward me, his eyes finding mine once again.
“Most of it was incoherent really… until you said my name.”
My body heats, gripping the blanket in my hand. Mixtures of yellow and orange flickering from the fire highlight his face. Whatever he’s thinking as he tells me, I’m unable to read, and I hope I’m as hard to feel out as he is.
Despite his relaxed posture, his emotions are locked up tight. His words come out cold and distant.
“Oh…”
I don’t know what more to say. I shrug off the blanket, feeling hot from the mixture of embarrassment and the warmth of the fire. I move to sit at the end of the couch, further away from Merric, needing the distance to sort through my thoughts.
His eyes drift down my body, stopping on my chest. I forgot I had slipped off my bra when Merric went to bed.
His mouth opens slightly, his tongue dragging out over his lower lip.
“You said my name,” he exhales harshly. “Then, you asked me to touch you.”
Sucking in a sharp breath, my heart is damn near ready to beat out of my chest, heaving with every struggled inhale.
Merric’s eyes fall once again on my breasts. He eats up every inch of my body, pausing to stare intently on my lips before locking eyes with me once again.
I picture Merric’s hands on my body again. Only I don’t stop my mind from drifting off to think about all the ways he could pleasure me, tease me. Now, as he’s put the thought back in my mind, it’s all I can see.
My mouth goes dry, dragging my tongue over my lips, wetting my skin.
“Oaklyn…” Merric murmurs, his voice raspy.
I’m unsure if he meant to say it aloud, so I wait for him to continue.
“Is that what you want?” he asks.
I don’t know where the confidence comes from or what’s come over me as I move to stand. My shirt rides up, leaving a sliver of skin showing.
Merric’s eyes travel leisurely down my body, his throat bobs at the sight of my skin, and his fingers dig into the chair like he’s resisting the urge to touch me.
As if realizing I haven’t answered him, his eyes find mine. He tilts his head back to look at me while I close the distance between us, taking a step between his legs. Other than me moving closer to him, tempting us both, neither one of us has made a move to cross a line.
I lean forward, pressing the palms of my hands against his thighs. The move gives him a straight shot down my shirt, my breasts falling forward, and I know I have him right where I want him when he lets out a low guttural moan.
I grin, his nostrils flare, and his jaw clenches.
“I want you to do more than touch me, Merric, but we can start there.”
His hand shoots out, grabbing my forearm, pulling me into his lap. I go all too eagerly, climbing on his lap, straddling his thighs. The thin cotton of our pants leaves little to disguise the growing need between us.
He tilts his head forward, his mouth sucking and nipping at my chest over my collarbone and up my neck. He pauses for a moment, his breath fanning across my heated skin. I hear him inhale, his hands sliding down my sides to grip my hips as he groans out, “You smell so fucking good.”
Something about hearing Merric talk dirty makes it ten times sexier.
I press my palms against his chest, my fingers digging into his sculpted chest, loving the glazed look on his eyes. They burn into me as I lift my shirt over my head, tossing it behind him.
He runs his hands up the sides of my body, sending a wave of chills through my body, despite the fireplace heating the room.
Gripping his chin in my hand, I lean forward until our lips are only a few centimeters away from touching. His eyes drop to my mouth while I rake my teeth over my lower lip.
I press my mouth against his ear and whisper, “I want the feel of your hands burned into my memory.”
It’s as if my words grant him the permission he’s been waiting for, unleashing something inside him, and he no longer holds back.
He reaches his hand around me, holding my body against him. His mouth finds its way to my breasts. I grip his face in my hands, not wanting him to stop. The combination of his tongue licking and sucking my nipple sends a shot of desire straight to my core.
He cups my breast, using his thumb to brush over my puckered skin. My hips buck, grinding against him, creating a delicious friction with each thrust of my hips.
His hand glides up my body, grabbing my throat, pulling back enough for me to see the desire simmering in his eyes.
I brush my fingers over the front of our pants, feeling how wet I am through the material before running my fingers lower to cup him.
“Jesus.” He sucks a deep breath. “What are you doing to me?”
There’s something so arousing about how his body reacts to me. I love how he lets me find our pleasure while never letting go of my throat, reminding me who’s in control.
I rub my hand over him, dipping my fingers beneath the waistband of his pants and into his boxer briefs. His cock jolts when my finger brushes over the smooth tip, tracing the small bead of cum leaking.
I slide back on his legs, giving myself more room to explore his body, and he releases his hold on me.
“I want to taste you,” I moan, moving to stand in front of him. I step away to grab my pillow off the couch, tossing it on the floor at his feet. I grin devilishly, his jaw ticking at the sight of me kneeling before him.
He reaches his hand out, dragging his thumb over my lower lip before I suck it into my mouth.
“Do you know how hard it was for me to try to sleep earlier, knowing you were here, and we had the house to ourselves?”
“Why did you?”
“I never thought this would happen. Not again.”
His words, the admission, are mixed with guilt and hesitation.
“Did you want it to, though?” My voice cracks at the end, revealing my uncertainty. It’s not at all from my own reservations, but the fear of him pushing me away again.