And now I’m getting what I’ve been literally dreaming about for ages—Alexis in my lap, grinding on my dick while she kisses me like her life depends on it. Or better yet, like I’m her favorite dessert that she hasn’t had in ages. Desperate, breathy moans escape as the kiss deepens, progresses, until all my awareness is focused on this one single point of contact, on the hungry press of lips and the sweet slide of tongues.
Of course in my dreams, it goes a lot farther. But I’m happy to take what she’ll give me for now. I’m not going to push her, but if this is now an option, she’s not going to be able to hold out for long. Not with the way she’s clawing at my shirt, yanking it up until she has to pull away from my mouth with a whimper while she drags the shirt over my head.
I can’t help the shit-eating grin that comes to my face at the sound of her whimper once my shirt is off. And as much as I love the feel of her lips on mine, I want to taste more of her skin first. I haven’t gotten the chance before now, and if we’re getting topless, then I want to take the opportunity while it’s here.
Skimming my hands up her sides, I gather the shimmery fabric in my hands and pull it over her head, giving her hair that adorably mussed look I love. She was always so polished and primped and put together in her pictures and the first few times I saw her in public. I love seeing her raw and unfiltered self—no makeup, messy hair, braless in her tiny tank and tinier shorts—the way we are at home. It’s a privilege and an honor to get let in even as far as I have. And this? Her topless with her lacy wisp of a bra pushing her tits together like an offering just for me?
This is heaven.
With my hands splayed across her back, I bring her chest to my mouth, kissing a path from her collarbone to her sternum, dragging my tongue along the edge of her bra. She makes a soft sound of either surprise or encouragement, I’m not sure. But it isn’t a protest, and the way she threads her fingers through my hair and holds me in place puts to rest any lingering concerns I might have about her being okay with this.
After a moment, her grip changes, and she tugs my head away from her. Reluctantly, I part ways with her chest, sad I didn’t manage to edge my way very far under her bra.
But my disappointment is short-lived because as soon as she pushes me back to the couch, she reaches behind her and undoes her bra, tossing it aside. When I reach for her again, she clucks her tongue and gives me a quelling look that has me dropping my hands back to my sides, my eyebrows arched in question.
She gives me a sultry smile. “It’s my turn to explore.” And then her hands are on my shoulders, trailing down my chest, making me squirm as she feels the ridges of my abs. She scoots back on my lap, staring down at my crotch, her hands lingering just above my belt.
I arch my hips up, almost without thinking, craving her touch just a few inches lower, my fingers flexing against the nubby fabric of the couch. God, I want her so bad.
She licks her lips, still staring, her gaze hungry. “I’ve been dying to get a look at what you’re packing under there for weeks,” she whispers. “You freeballing it in those damn gray sweatpants.”
A strangled laugh bursts out of me. “You’re one to talk. You’ve been torturing me for just as long. And look, you’re completely topless and you won’t even let me touch you.”
Her chin lifts in a challenge, her eyes that unnatural shade of turquoise. She insisted on wearing her colored contacts tonight. I’ll admit they give her an ethereal beauty, but I prefer her without them. I want to see the way her eyes dilate when I slide inside her. But that probably won’t happen tonight anyway, even if she does eventually touch my dick.
“You want to touch me?” she asks, that same challenge in her voice.
I groan. “Like you even have to ask. Of course I do. That’s just about all I’ve wanted since the first time I kissed you.”
Her smile grows wider. “You can touch mine if I can touch yours?”
“Oh? Are we making deals?”
She lifts one shoulder in a shrug, her perfect, raspberry-tipped breast jiggling softly with the movement. And god, I want that sweet little berry in my mouth. “You started it,” she says, “Mr. I’ll-play-an-encore-if-you-give-me-an-encore-of-that-kiss.”
I lift my eyes to hers and shake my head. “This isn’t the encore. This is the main show.”
Chapter Twenty-Four
Alexis
Colt’s eyes are molten blue, and just like with fire, blue flames burn the hottest. His gaze singes me everywhere it touches, but it’s the good kind of heat, like going out in the sun on the first warm day after a long, cold winter. I want to arch my back and bask in the glow.
He takes my arching as an invitation, his hands sliding up my sides to cradle my breasts, his thumbs passing gently over my already hard nipples, making them draw up even tighter.
Not to be outdone, I move my hand between us, sliding it along the hard ridge in his jeans, the tight denim keeping it trapped against him.
I know I turn him on. He’s never bothered to hide his erection, sometimes even standing and stretching, arching his back so I get a good show as part of our little game of sexy chicken. I’m not sure who moved first at this point. Colt? He touched me first. But I took off his shirt. And kissed him first. Though I could argue he started it with that kiss on stage plus his demand for an encore after we got home.
Who can blame him, though? I wanted more too.
Does it matter who blinked first, though? At this point, we’re both going to win.
His thumbs circle my nipples as we stare into each other’s eyes, and I squeeze him through the fabric of his jeans, wondering if he’s going commando like he does in sweats. He leans forward and licks my right nipple, just a quick swipe of his tongue. Then he closes his lips around it, sucking it deep into his mouth. My fingers convulse reflexively around his shaft, and we both groan in a mix of pleasure and frustration. My free hand goes back to his head, my fingers tunneling through his hair and hanging on. Not to guide him or hold him steady, but to anchor myself so I don’t go flying off into oblivion.
He releases that nipple, leaving it shiny and aching, then moves to the other side to give it the same treatment. All I can do is hang onto him and let him have his way with me. It’s all I want to do. All desire I have to explore his body is temporarily forgotten. There’ll be time enough for that later. Right now I’m thoroughly enjoying his exploration of mine.
His lips trail a path from my breast to my collarbone, his teeth scraping lightly up my neck, a kiss behind my ear, and then his mouth is on mine again. I sink into his kiss, letting go of his dick and scooting forward so I can feel it where I really want it. But with both of us wearing denim, all I get is a frustrating amount of pressure, not the satisfying friction I really need.
I let out a frustrated growl, and Colt chuckles, pulling back from the kiss, his eyes flitting all around my face. “Is there something you need?”
I glare at him. “I need you to take off your damn pants.”
There goes his eyebrow again, arching high above his left eye. “Is that so?”
I nod.
“And what about your pants?”
I huff out a sigh, crossing my arms over my chest. “So if you take something off, I have to as well? Is that the deal?” Not that I actually object to that, because yes, I definitely want my pants off too. How else am I going to get what I need?