He readjusted himself as he moved closer to her, spreading his legs so that her footrests didn’t press into his shins.
“Pull it open,” he said against her lips. “Just rip it.”
She leaned her head back by just an inch but too far for Gus’s liking. “But—”
“I know how to sew buttons back on. Do it.” Then he closed the distance between their lips again, thrusting his tongue into her mouth and sliding his hands up her thighs so both of his thumbs pressed gently into the heat at her juncture. She gasped a muffled curse into his mouth and tugged at his shirt, hard; buttons went flying as she laughed triumphantly, and then her palms finally spread over his chest. He groaned as her index finger brushed his nipple, and she did it again.
He used both of his own hands to spread her thighs, and one of his thumbs found the nub of her clit through the thin cotton of her underwear. He pressed slowly until her hips lifted slightly from the seat, and then he began to rub. Slow, back-and-forth motions, varying pressure depending on how she gasped and moaned into his mouth. He moved his other hand up and down her thigh, dragging the rough palm over her sensitive skin.
Reggie’s mouth ripped away from his on a moan, but she held onto him. She tugged at the lapels of his shirt, sometimes soft, sometimes hard, as if directing him—the hard tugs were growing more frequent. She made a sound that was something like a frustrated squeal and threw her head back.
Gus hadn’t thought he could get any harder, but his jeans were painfully tight at the groin. He rocked back onto his heels and looked up at her. “You’re so sexy.”
Her response was to press her feet against the footrests of her chair and lever her hips forward, so that her ass was along the edge of the seat. Her knees were spread, her dress hiked up, exposing her black underwear.
“Gus.” She was a woman used to getting what she wanted, and he was a man who knew what to give her.
He knelt forward again, his hands sliding up and around her thighs to hold her in place as he tugged her a bit closer to the edge of her seat. He stretched the fingers of his right hand out over her mound and then curled them, pulling her underwear to the side to reveal neatly trimmed dark reddish-brown curls and a slick brownish-pink nub between her folds.
He ran his thumb over her one more time, and then he nestled his mouth over her and licked.
“Fuck!” One of her hands went to his collar, and the other grabbed an armrest of her chair. “Fuck, Gustave.”
Gus swirled his tongue over her, then sucked gently, then sucked not so gently, loving the way she cried out his name, wanting to give her more pleasure. His own desire had overtaken him, so that all he could think of was the scent of her, the taste of her, how she bucked up against his face, and how she would feel clamping around his cock.
“Mmm,” he groaned against her clit, and Reggie bucked so sharply that he reached out to press down on her stomach and hold her in place. Her ab muscles convulsed under his palm as she ground against his face, riding out her orgasm, and then she collapsed back, breathing heavily.
“Oh my god.” Her chest rose and fell and then she lolled her head forward to look down at him. Her glasses were askew and her smile was sated. “We’re definitely going to have to do that again. But now?”
She gripped his shoulders and slipped her feet from the footrests to the floor, then levered herself to a standing position. He didn’t move as she stood over him, bent at the waist; she took two shaky but definitive steps around him to drop into a seated position on her bed.
She shimmied out of the beautiful emerald green dress she wore and tossed it across the room onto the laundry pile, then sat with her arms behind her to support her weight and her chin raised.
“Now you join me on the bed.”
Her breasts were encased in some kind of crinkled lacy bra that reminded Gus of the wrapper around a cupcake—taking off that wrapper was his favorite part.
“I can do that.” He wiped his sleeve over his mouth before standing and shucking his shirt, jeans, and socks, so that he only wore his tented boxer briefs, then closed the space between them. His mouth connected with hers and she wrapped her arms around him, pulling his weight down onto her as she lay back on the bed. His elbows dug into the mattress on either side of her as he caught his weight, but his body pressed up along hers, skin to skin. He settled between her legs, the length of his cock notching against her slit, and her moans when she circled her hips to rub against him.
“Condoms?” he asked.
“Bedside table.”
He leaned away from her to tug the drawer open, accidentally pulling it out of the nightstand completely. He grabbed a condom from a pink organizational tray and dropped the drawer to the floor with a clatter.
“Sorry,” he said, returning his mouth to hers.
Her rough exhalations caressed his lips. “Put it on. I want you.”
Her words magnified whatever the feeling was in his chest, and then she reached between them to stroke him, first through the fabric of his boxers and then sliding her hand under the elastic waistband to grip his erection. She ran her loosely circled fingers up and down his shaft, her thumb caressing the sensitive spot under the head of his cock as she did so. Her hips rocked up against him, and the desire in her eyes sent an arc of pleasure through him so strong that he bit his lip against the desire to pump into her hand and ride it to completion.
“I want you,” she said again, her voice an insistent whisper.
“Don’t say that again for a little while,” he said hoarsely. “I can only withstand so much.”
He stood, shucked his boxers, and carefully rolled on the condom. He crouched between her legs to kiss her thighs and slide off her underwear before crawling into the center of the bed beside her as she clambered back.
“Wait.” He unlatched the hook on the front of her bra with one hand, revealing the perfect, dark brown–tipped mounds of her breasts. He teased her with his thumb and forefinger, and she groaned.
“Gus? I’m trying not to be demanding, but I really need you to fuck me or I seriously might explode.”
He laughed, rolling on top of her and settling between her legs again. “I like it when you’re demanding.”
“Lucky you.” When she kissed him, a soft, sweet contrast to her words, Gus groaned and thrust into her. He sucked in a breath at the almost overwhelming pleasure. The clamp of her inner walls around his cock, the way her eyes slammed shut and she cried out.
“Fuck,” he breathed. “You feel good. You smell good, you taste good, you . . .” Gus couldn’t talk anymore. He lost his words to the sensation running down his spine, squeezing his balls, squeezing his heart. He wouldn’t tell her what he was feeling—he would show her.
He thrust into her hard, not minding the burn in his scalp as she tugged at his hair and the crescents of pleasure-pain that she left in his shoulders as she gripped him. She threw one leg over his hip, spreading herself wider, taking him in deeper, and holding him closer.
Gus buried his face in her neck, the sweat from his brow and her temple pooling where their skin touched, their moans mingling in the air between the four posts of her bed.
“Yes. Yes. Please.”
That one word urged him to slide her other leg up around his waist and lean forward so that his thrusts hit her at a new angle. Reggie didn’t like asking for things—if she said please, he would make sure not to disappoint.