The pressure on my thigh grows tighter for a second. “Not yet,” he grits out, but we finally start moving again.
By the time we find a parking spot, I’m giddy with lust; my nipples are hard and rubbing against the inside of my bra and my panties are wet and clinging.
On the sidewalk with my hand firmly anchored to his, our long strides match, though mine are much more animated than his. He makes an attempt to stop me from swinging our arms and I practically swoon. His need to control the situation bodes very well for me.
When the key to the front door of my building actually turns in the lock, I laugh. “It’s our lucky night.” I throw a smile over my shoulder as we enter the lobby, but his stern expression remains, reflecting just how wound up he is.
As soon as we’re inside my apartment, I find myself pressed up against the wall with his demanding mouth on mine, and his hands all over me, rough and seeking. I meet him head on, riding his thigh, groping his ass, sucking on his tongue. I’ve never wanted a man more.
“I want skin,” I rasp, pushing at his shoulders, trying to create some space between us so I can get at the buttons on his shirt.
“So fucking bossy, aren’t you?” he says before his lips are back on mine, ignoring my request.
I push at his shoulders again, but all that gets me is my wrists encircled and lifted over my head. My attempts to free myself from his grasp fail and nearly short circuit my brain. I’m quickly becoming a moaning, hot mess.
He pulls back, transferring my wrists into one of his big hands and uses the other to caress down my throat to trace along my collar bone then move lower. I love how his eyes follow the movement, but the soft touches are maddening, with no real pressure behind them. I wriggle and push forward into his hand, wanting more.
He leans into my ear. “Maybe you’re right,” he says, slowly increasing the force of his fingers on my breast until he tweaks my nipple through the layers of fabric, making me cry out. “Maybe skin is exactly what we need.”
Gradually, he moves away, releasing my wrists, leaving me panting softly, propped up against the wall. As he works the buttons on his shirt, his eyebrows arch subtly as if to ask me, isn’t this what you wanted?
Fumbling with my own buttons, I undo enough of them to get my blouse over my head and chuck it to the floor. My tank is next, followed by my bra. As we watch each other undress, I revel in the indolent satisfaction of knowing what’s coming.
I brush past him and head for my room.
I barely make it to the hall on the other side of the living area before he’s got me by the waist of my jeans. “Where you going?” he demands, the warmth of his arms wrapping around me, one hand sliding up to grip my throat, the other delving into my jeans, under my panties. “Shit,” he rasps into my ear as if he’s surprised by how wet I am. “I’m so going to fuck you.”
Despite being pretty much putty in his hands, when he starts to maneuver me toward the island, I drag my feet. Uh uh, no way. I’m not going over the counter again. And my refusal to go has every muscle in his body straining. The power and strength running through him feels so good that, for a second, I’m tempted to let this happen how he wants.
But no.
I lift a foot and plant it on the side of the island to stop his forward momentum. “We’re not doing this with me face down again.”
“Oh, yeah?” he scoffs, pulling me back enough that my foot comes away. “Says who?”
“Says me. This time I’m going to watch that big dick of yours slide into me.”
He pauses and then lets out a sullen grunt against my neck before loosening his grip so I can turn in his arms. With only the light coming in from the street through the patio door, I can’t make out his exact expression. Which is a good thing because I’m sure if he could see the triumph on my face, it would only re-incite him to try to get his way.
Placing a sweet kiss on the corner of his mouth, I lead him into the bedroom where I flip on the bedside lamp.
I turn and my breath catches. He’s standing there in only his jeans, his chest bare and glorious, all smooth lines of long, lean muscle. My gaze trails down to his abs where that thin line of hair disappears into the just-visible waistband of his boxer briefs. Somewhere along the way, he lost his belt and the button of his jeans came undone, leaving them slung low on his hips and doing little to disguise the outline of what’s beneath them.
I watch transfixed as one of his hands moves to slowly lower his zipper, each tick of the metal teeth sounding lewd in the quiet room. The jeans and the briefs come off together, and for a moment, I can’t help but stare at his bare feet – because when did his shoes and socks come off? An asinine thought, really, considering he’s now naked in front of me, letting me ogle every square inch of him.
“Opal,” he says, his voice low and rumbling as he takes hold of himself and gives one leisurely stroke. “Unless you want to watch this sliding inside of you somewhere else . . . up close, you’re going to have to finish getting rid of your clothes.”
But the scenery is so very distracting. Is there anything sexier than a man touching himself? He strokes again, base to tip, this time running the pad of his thumb over the head, forcing my pussy into a greedy little clench that makes me whimper.
He smirks cockily at my reaction as he reaches down into his jeans pocket and pulls out his wallet to get a condom. Seeing the foil package shakes me out of my deer-in-the-headlights funk. I shimmy my way out of my own jeans with as much grace as possible without taking my eyes off of him.
He closes the distance between us, throwing the condom onto the bed behind me.
Leaning in to my ear, he whispers, “You bare, here,” he runs the backs of his fingers down my belly to graze my clit, “is the hottest thing I’ve ever seen. And these,” the fingers roam back up to my breasts, his knuckles whisper softly against the tight tips of my nipples. “Are perfect.”
I’ve been paid my fair share of compliments over the years. I did trade on my looks for a long time after all, but I’ve never been more pleased than to receive them from him.
His bobbing cock knocks against my belly as I raise my arms to encircle his neck. His hands land on my waist to pull me close and our lips meet.
We kiss, tongues dueling, long and slow, our hands caressing, fondling, groping until I can’t stand it any longer. I get bolder. Hitching my leg behind his thigh, I raise myself on tip toes, trying to find the right angle to get him inside of me. He groans into my mouth. There are definite benefits to being so tall, I think vaguely as his dick slides against my core with delectable ease.
A hand circles my throat and carefully pushes me back. Gasping in surprise, I grab onto his wrist to steady myself. My insides further liquefy at the lust in his expression as he backs me up another step and the backs of my knees hit the mattress. He prowls after me onto the bed, driving me back until my head hits the pillow.
Kneeling between my thighs, he gestures for me to sit up, adding another pillow behind my back. “You wanted to watch me fill you up, right?” he says, somehow making the question sound like a threat.
“God, yes,” I croak, doing as he wants, pulling my knees up, spreading myself wide.
Watching him roll the condom down his length has me holding my breath in anticipation. “Well, then, let’s see how much you can take before this pretty little pussy of yours starts protesting.”