that I have a hundred new outfits to choose from.”
He had a look like he was processing what she had said, and then shoved his sweat pants to the floor. He leaned over to untie his sneakers and pull them off, followed by his socks, and then the pants. Now, clad in nothing but those spectacular boxers, he placed his hands on his hips and widened his stance. Tilting his chin up, he squared his shoulders.
“What do you think of them now?”
She whistled low. Reverting back to her previous inner dialogue, she reached her arms out and asked him to apologize for being so much of a tease. This man was designed by God for reverence. Eye candy, brilliance and a kind heart? Any sane girl would want him.
“Take me, Andrew.”
She scooted to the edge of the bed, and spread her arms and legs wide. His grin stretched from ear to ear. His full set of straight white teeth—and that soul-shaking smile around his eyes—captured her in its sensual trap. She just sighed as he slunk onto the bed and proceeded to strip her with said teeth.
Sexiest move of the century, she decided. He got her down to her bra and panties in record time. Hands or no hands.
“You are going to have to help me here, Abby. Roll over, or lift your hips.” His warm breath caressed her stomach, and she could swear she saw stars.
“How about I just toss these off and we get down to business?” she joked. Her voice was tight, strung a little shrill. She could admit it, she was hot and bothered—bothered because no man should be able to get her this turned on, this quickly. It was unhealthy. And troublesome. And perfect.
“Please,” he answered. Oh, and he was a gentleman. Excellent!
She sat up. Reaching behind her back, she unclasped her sports bra and stripped the cotton straps down one shoulder, then the other. This time, Andrew whistled.
“You like?”
She shimmied her shoulder and thrust out her chest. She preened under the widening of his pupils and the way his fingers flexed on the sheets. Her breasts were small, but she was perky and so ready for him.
“Very much,” he answered. “Sorry, my hands and eyes can’t take it any longer.”
He placed his palms over her breasts and massaged them. Abby swooned. Whimpering, she collapsed back onto her elbows and let her head flop. She closed her eyes. She wanted to savor the feel of his large, warm hands on her flesh.
Soon, his mouth replaced his hands and he was on top of her, pinning her to the sheets. She didn’t complain. She loved being under his hot chest, tight abs and strong legs. She writhed underneath him, silently begging him for more with every nonverbal wish her body could conjure.
His hand stroked down her stomach and under the elastic waistband of her panties. His fingers moved over her mound, pressing on her clit, and finally slipping along her slit. She was so wet; so ready. Andrew made her soaking wet with need every time without fail. She spread her legs wider under his exploration, and lifted her hips as he eased his digits within her core. She ground her pelvis into his hand. She had needed this so much more than she was ready to admit to anyone, including herself. She couldn’t imagine before Andrew anymore. Her body must have been in stasis, waiting for him to make her sensuality come alive and fly up to the stratosphere.
He groaned, “God, Abby. You’re so wet; so willing. I can’t be without you anymore.” In seconds, after echoing her thoughts out loud, he had them both naked; their underwear tangled in a ball on the floor somewhere.
He braced his weight on extended arms locked beside her head, then slid forward and entered her. His thick, hard cock promised every sort of wicked deed as it went.
“Harder,” she begged.
She thought about being on top of him, but as he picked up the pace and rammed her into the bed—the springs protesting his strength—she didn’t dare argue for position. He took her to places, and touched her in places in her mind she had
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