In the mirror, he drags my tank up and over my head. It drops to the floor, flattening his hand against my belly.
“What are you doing to me?” I whisper, tilting my head to the side to give him more of my neck. My breasts feel heavy from his earlier attentions, and between my legs aches to be filled by the hardness pressed against my lower back.
God, I want him. Want this.
“I’m admiring you,” he says softly, the hot puff of his breath on my neck makes goosebumps dapple my skin. His arms tighten before he angles one to hold my breast as the other slides between my legs. He cups me over my jeans, his long finger pressing against the seam, the heel of his palm adding a delicious layer of friction. “Just look at you.”
It’s strange seeing myself as I do, half undressed, all languid dark eyes as I revel in his hold. In his possession. As his arm flexes, muscles and tendons shift and ripple against my bare skin.
“You’re exquisite.” His reflection rakes over mine, slow and steady. A look that says he owns me. A reflection that confirms as my hips jerk against him, my nipples hardening in response to his fingertips.
“Please, touch me.” My pulse races, and my words are a bare rasp as I turn my face from the mirror, looping my hand over his neck. I pull his mouth to mine, though he keeps our kiss chaste. In contrast to the way he holds me. I pull harder, opening my mouth fully on his, swallowing his low groan of surprise as he turns me in his embrace. The touch of his gaze dances over the wings of my collarbones, his gaze darkly dilated as it dips to the valley between my breasts.
“You turn pink with arousal,” he murmurs absently, tracing the path of his gaze. It’s not something I can or want to discount. “As well as embarrassment.” He glances up from beneath thick, dark lashes, the look anything but coy. “Who knew there was a perverse kind of pleasure to be gained from watching you turn red. Wondering how far those blushes run.”
“And now you know.”
“Not quite. But I’m about to find out.”
My bra comes loose, spiking in my veins as he bends to trail the flat of his tongue across each of my nipples in turn. I feed my hands into his hair as his tongue swirls and his fingers tease. He sucks, his teeth graze, his actions rougher than anything I’ve ever experienced.
Rougher. Better. Real. They match the tide of desperation swelling through me.
“Oh, God!” I tighten my grip on his hair, wanting to share this pleasure/pain, this perfect agony as I begin to move backwards towards the bed.
Or I would if he would let me.
“Not yet.”
His hands tighten on my hips as does his mouth on my breast, his body an elegant arch before me.
“I want . . .” I need so much as fevered sensations swell through my skin, my ragged breaths loud to my ears as his mouth hungrily devours me, his hands and his actions keeping me in place.
“This. You want this.” His hands slip to my behind, pulling me into his body, soft meeting hard where he rocks into me, his hands preventing any kind of escape. Not that I was going anywhere.
“Yes. Please. You need fewer clothes.” Reaching between us, I begin to tug at the hem of his shirt. His chuckle is hushed and hot as I bat away his hands when he lifts them to help. Working from top to bottom, I pull the last tiny hinderance loose and tipping up onto my toes to push it from his shoulders. I’m unable to stop myself from swiping my tongue against the flat of his nipple. Muscles tighten under my fingertips, and he exhales a low gasp. There is so much of him, and his skin is hot to the touch. I run my fingers over the ladder of his abdominals, relishing both their flex and his moan.
And then I’m hitting the bed, bouncing a little, burning under his gaze. Almost instantly, he falls on me, ripping open the button of my jeans. Dragging them down my legs, he whips them off along with my panties.
“You’re pink all the way,” his low voice groans, his hand at my throat. Trailing it down my body, he follows the flush against my skin.
Pushing up onto my elbows, I watch as his large hands press my thighs open, pushing them wider, his dark head bent, eyes glued to the space between my legs.
“Pink, like a rose.”
I gasp, his eyes catching mine, dark and knowing, and he watches my expression as his thumb glides along the wet ribbon of flesh. Teasing, testing, the motion slow and rhythmic, revealing how wet I am.
“I’m going to kiss you here.” I arch as his head lowers, my insides pulsing emptily as his lips come to land low on my stomach. Not where I need them to be. “And here.” A little closer now, but still not near enough, they press a little lower. “So soft here.” His lips brush across my hipbone.
“Don’t tease.” My words sound like sandpaper as I arch to fill the space between us as he pulls back, his low chuckle ghosting across my skin.
“Ah, Holland,” he murmurs, all silky mouthed and easy smile. “I’m not teasing. I’m being thorough. You know that old saying, if something is worth doing . . .” His hands trail down my legs and grasp my ankles.
“And I’m worth doing, am I?”
I inhale a sharp breath as he tugs, pulling me swiftly down the bed. He drops to his knees in one fluid motion as between the V of my thighs, his warm breath brushes over me in a shiver-inducing caress.
As he presses a kiss against the inside of my knee, I push up onto my elbows, determined not to miss one thing.
“You are worth doing . . .” His tongue darts out in a hot lick. “Very.” Next comes another kiss to the soft skin of my inner thigh. “Very well.” To end, or maybe to begin, his half-growled words are more vibration than anything else as he buries his tongue deep inside me.
“Oh, God . . .” Everything in the room immediately dissolves, melting away beyond him and me. Beyond the place between my legs. My breathing makes me sound as though I’ve been running, which is ridiculous because I don’t run, and he’s barely begun! “Oh, God. Yes, like that.” I cry out, my body bowing, chasing sensation.
“I’m sure you can give better direction than that,” he says with no conviction at all but plenty of knowing. “I’d benefit from a little guidance. A little verbal guidance.”
“Y-You should just do that again,” I counter, my words shaky.
“This?” His lashes cast dark half-moons against his cheeks as he lowers his head, twirling his tongue around my clit again. And again. And . . . oh my God.
I whimper, my hand finding purchase in the strands of his hair, chasing the sensation as he presses the length of his fingers against my opening. But not in. It would take nothing for me to lift my hips, to change the angle and make his fingers slide into me, but the way he’s watching me, learning me, makes me hesitant.
“Or like this?” The dark amusement in his voice adds another layer of deliciousness as he sucks the swollen bud of my clit between his lips. I almost levitate from the bed, my body spasming in relief as his long fingers part my flesh, driving inside.
“Oh, God, yes!” My hips meet his compelling movements as he continues to lick and lap, not as though I’m a thing to be savoured but a thing to be devoured. A thing to be consumed as his fingers drive harder, drive my hips and my cries higher until I feel almost delirious.
“Such a sweet, sweet girl.”