earlier reservations shattered under the sheer want for him.
None of my past experiences prepared me for this.
He curled his fingers into the hem of my tank and he broke the kiss, whipping the shirt over my head. “Take your pants off for me, Hannah.”
It took a couple tries to get my fingers under the waistband of my pants, my hands were trembling so bad. “Hey,” he whispered, covering my hands with his. “Do you want to slow down?”
All at once, my hands stopped shaking. No, I didn’t want to slow down. I wanted him naked. I wanted his skin against mine. I wanted him in my bed, above me, behind me, under me, it didn’t matter. The way my body responded to his touch scared me, but I wasn’t going to let the fear keep this from happening.
I rose up and pressed my mouth to his. “I don’t want to slow down.” Together, we pushed the heavy fabric down and off. I slid my panties over my hips and down my legs, then reached for his fly. “Fair’s fair.”
Seconds later, we were both naked, clothing puddled on the floor around our feet. He lifted a single finger and ran it along my jaw, down my neck, wandering along my collarbone and down my chest, circling a nipple before continuing its journey south, dipping into my belly button, drifting down, down, down to trace a taunting circle my clit. I squeezed my eyes shut, embarrassed at how wet I was from so little foreplay. But my body didn’t care. It wanted more.
“I like this,” he murmured. He started to stroke, slip, slide, my hips following the movement, and he nipped into my jaw. “Fuckin’ hot.”
He caught my hand as I reached between our bodies, needing more pressure. “What’s the rush?” His finger bumped over my clit again and pressed down on the aching bundle of nerves. A wash of pleasure heated my skin. It wasn’t enough. I whined, jerking my hips.
He dropped his hand, and I cursed, glaring at him when he smirked. “On the bed, Hannah.”
I flipped the covers back and boosted myself up, shooting a glance over my shoulder as I crawled to the center of the bed. His gaze was fixed on my lower back, eyes gleaming darkly in the low light.
The last tattoo.
I rose up on my knees, holding out a hand to him. He took it, his free hand brushing over the ink. Gently, slowly, he turned my back to him, then bent me over so I was on my hands and knees. My heart skittered against my rib cage, his touch almost feather-light as he mapped the lines.
He started at the top, tracing down over the knuckles of the fingers cupping the bleeding heart. He found every drop of blood, every wrinkle in those palms, bringing tears to my eyes and making my sex clench. He kissed a line up, up, up, until he covered my back with his chest, the hard planes of it causing my brain to misfire. It was all too easy to imagine him like this, deep inside me, fucking me slow, pressing me into the bed.
His teeth closed around my nape, and I arched into him, the head of his cock parting my folds. “Christ. Hannah. Not yet.” He hauled me upright, palming a breast, and rolled the nipple between his fingers until it hardened. His mouth was busy licking and sucking at every part of me he could reach, the shell of my ear, the curve of my neck, the sloping line of my shoulder. He switched hands, and switched sides, tugging at my nipple to the point of pain, little pricks of it making me roll my hips, seeking relief.
But he didn’t venture any further south.
I reached behind me and gripped him, ran my nails along the underside of his cock, smiling when he groaned. If my arousal was going to go unsated and left to drip down my legs, I was going to give as good as I got. With my hands behind my back, I couldn’t touch as much of him as I wanted. I rubbed my thumb over his frenulum and cupped his balls in my other hand, testing their weight.
He released me so quickly I almost fell forward. “You win,” he growled. He fumbled with the box of condoms, tearing open the box and
None of my past experiences prepared me for this.
He curled his fingers into the hem of my tank and he broke the kiss, whipping the shirt over my head. “Take your pants off for me, Hannah.”
It took a couple tries to get my fingers under the waistband of my pants, my hands were trembling so bad. “Hey,” he whispered, covering my hands with his. “Do you want to slow down?”
All at once, my hands stopped shaking. No, I didn’t want to slow down. I wanted him naked. I wanted his skin against mine. I wanted him in my bed, above me, behind me, under me, it didn’t matter. The way my body responded to his touch scared me, but I wasn’t going to let the fear keep this from happening.
I rose up and pressed my mouth to his. “I don’t want to slow down.” Together, we pushed the heavy fabric down and off. I slid my panties over my hips and down my legs, then reached for his fly. “Fair’s fair.”
Seconds later, we were both naked, clothing puddled on the floor around our feet. He lifted a single finger and ran it along my jaw, down my neck, wandering along my collarbone and down my chest, circling a nipple before continuing its journey south, dipping into my belly button, drifting down, down, down to trace a taunting circle my clit. I squeezed my eyes shut, embarrassed at how wet I was from so little foreplay. But my body didn’t care. It wanted more.
“I like this,” he murmured. He started to stroke, slip, slide, my hips following the movement, and he nipped into my jaw. “Fuckin’ hot.”
He caught my hand as I reached between our bodies, needing more pressure. “What’s the rush?” His finger bumped over my clit again and pressed down on the aching bundle of nerves. A wash of pleasure heated my skin. It wasn’t enough. I whined, jerking my hips.
He dropped his hand, and I cursed, glaring at him when he smirked. “On the bed, Hannah.”
I flipped the covers back and boosted myself up, shooting a glance over my shoulder as I crawled to the center of the bed. His gaze was fixed on my lower back, eyes gleaming darkly in the low light.
The last tattoo.
I rose up on my knees, holding out a hand to him. He took it, his free hand brushing over the ink. Gently, slowly, he turned my back to him, then bent me over so I was on my hands and knees. My heart skittered against my rib cage, his touch almost feather-light as he mapped the lines.
He started at the top, tracing down over the knuckles of the fingers cupping the bleeding heart. He found every drop of blood, every wrinkle in those palms, bringing tears to my eyes and making my sex clench. He kissed a line up, up, up, until he covered my back with his chest, the hard planes of it causing my brain to misfire. It was all too easy to imagine him like this, deep inside me, fucking me slow, pressing me into the bed.
His teeth closed around my nape, and I arched into him, the head of his cock parting my folds. “Christ. Hannah. Not yet.” He hauled me upright, palming a breast, and rolled the nipple between his fingers until it hardened. His mouth was busy licking and sucking at every part of me he could reach, the shell of my ear, the curve of my neck, the sloping line of my shoulder. He switched hands, and switched sides, tugging at my nipple to the point of pain, little pricks of it making me roll my hips, seeking relief.
But he didn’t venture any further south.
I reached behind me and gripped him, ran my nails along the underside of his cock, smiling when he groaned. If my arousal was going to go unsated and left to drip down my legs, I was going to give as good as I got. With my hands behind my back, I couldn’t touch as much of him as I wanted. I rubbed my thumb over his frenulum and cupped his balls in my other hand, testing their weight.
He released me so quickly I almost fell forward. “You win,” he growled. He fumbled with the box of condoms, tearing open the box and
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