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He made himself at home on the couch, his knees spread wide, one arm thrown on the back of the cushion, his other hand lifting his champagne to his mouth. After a gulp of it, he raised it in my direction. “Go on.”
As usual, his gentle but demanding command left me breathless. But when I brushed my hair behind my shoulders, his eyes sparked to life and heated as they drifted down the length of me while I swayed my hips to “Slow Hands.” The sensual lyrics and melody made it easy to dance, and I skated my hands over my sides and hips then back up to my breasts.
He watched me with his top teeth dug into his bottom lip, the growing bulge of his erection clearly outlined under his gray sweatpants, and I bit back a smile at how sexy he made me feel. I tugged my oversized sweatshirt over my head and swept my hair up above my head, letting it fall back down to my shoulders. Never taking his gaze off me, he absently bobbed his head to the song and took another sip of his drink.
I worked my leggings down to my ankles, but there was no attractive way to peel them off, so I sat on the edge of the table and held my bare feet up in the air, giving Liam the opportunity to remove them for me. With one deft tug, he had them in his hand and thrown to the floor. I stood, spinning away from him to undo my bra and let it slip from my fingers as I sent a flirtatious smile his way over my shoulder. He adjusted himself with his free hand while he licked his lips, his desperation palpable.
I faced away from him again and slipped my underwear down my legs, making sure to bend over since I knew he loved that position, and held it for a few moments. Long enough for him to rasp, “Get your ass over here.”
Naked and warm, I sashayed toward him, but before I could settle on his lap, he pushed me to lie down on the couch so he was over me. He took one last sip of his champagne then flipped the glass upside down. Staring at the hollow of my collarbone, he slowly dripped a line of the bubbly liquid between my breasts, down my stomach, to my belly button. He set the glass on the table behind him and ducked his head, licking up the trail he’d made, and I was unable to keep from squirming, spilling some of the champagne on the couch.
I gasped out an “Oh no,” but he caught it between his lips while he drifted his hand over my wet skin, smearing the champagne over my breasts and nipples, up my throat, and down between my legs. Then his hot mouth was there, licking and sucking at all those same places.
“Liam,” I moaned, sifting my fingers through his hair, wanting him on top of me, to feel his weight over me as I finally learned what it felt like to be filled up by him. But he barely moved a few inches, merely enough to pluck an ice cube from the bucket. I let out a squeal of surprise when he touched it to my nipple, circling the already hard tip to an even tighter peak. My breath caught in my throat. “Oh, oh god. Oh my god.”
He replaced the ice cube with his mouth, and the change in temperature unfurled waves of pleasure and pain through my core. My back arched off the sofa, my hips lifted aimlessly, and I felt him smile against the soft flesh of my breast. Then the ice cube was at my other nipple, and he started the torture all over again.
He alternated using the ice cube and his mouth until it melted, and when I thought he would give up, he reached for another to continue.
It was madness.
It was bliss.
It waseverything.
“Liam,” I groaned, my internal temperature so high I didn’t understand how my skin dotted with goose bumps.
“Yes, angel?”
“I need you to touch me.”
“I am touching you,” he said with so much humor, I whined in frustration.
“Please.”
“Okay, sweet girl, okay,” he murmured against my throat, briefly gliding the ice cube between my legs so that I sucked in a ragged breath. Then he popped the ice into his mouth and dragged his wet, cold fingers along the seam of my pussy.
It was the best and worst thing I’d ever felt. “Ohfuck.”
He hummed, sucking on that godforsaken ice cube as he drove his fingers into me, immediately drawing shudders from me when he stroked the spot against my front wall. I was already on the edge, barely clinging to my sanity, and all I required was one touch of my clit to go flying.
He was wicked.
He was wonderful.
He waseverything.
I closed my eyes as an orgasm racked my body, but he wouldn’t even give me a respite from that because then his cold tongue was on me, licking around my nipples, sucking at my neck, nipping at my earlobe until the chill faded from his mouth, and I slowly came back down to earth.
“Don’t move,” he told me—as if I could—and straightened up, tugging his shirt over his head and pushing his sweats down, along with his boxer briefs. His erection stood out, one thick vein running along the length of it on the side, and I was tempted to trace it with my tongue, but he swiftly covered it with a condom. Then he was on top of me, settling between my legs, staring down at me with eyes so full of love, I almost couldn’t bear it.
To be the object of his attention, it was both powerful and disheartening. To be the center of his world, and yet not feel like I deserved it.
“Lift your legs, angel.”
I brought my knees toward my sides, giving him more room to move, and he held himself up on one forearm as he positioned the head of his cock at my entrance, soaking it with my arousal, sliding over my clit before dropping down to both forearms and finally plunging inside me.
We both let out heavy breaths, and I wrapped my hands around the backs of my knees, wanting more of the exquisite fullness. After each slow pull-out, he thrust back in hard, and I arched my neck, refusing to give in to the primal scream threatening to escape my throat.
