A groan slips out, low and sharp, my cock pressing against my zipperlike it’s seconds from tearing free. I lean in, let my lips brush the shell of her ear.
“You make itrealhard to be a decent man, Lark,” I murmur, her voice tight, half-laugh, all hunger.
She lets out a breath that’s almost a laugh, but her hips roll against me again, like she’s challenging me to stop pretending there’s anything decent left in me when it comes to her.
I dip my head to her neck, mouth dragging along the underside of her jaw, my teeth skimming over skin that tastes like heat and sweat and everything I used to fall asleep dreaming about.
My fingers drift lower, dragging over warm skin and soft lace, teasing us both until they slip underneath—and holy hell. She’s soaked.
A curse catches low in my throat as my hand tightens on her hip, holding her steady. I press two fingers inside, slow and shallow, just enough to feel her clench around me.
“Shit, Lark…”
She exhales a shaky breath, her hands fisting the front of my shirt like it’s the only thing keeping her upright.
“Boone,” she whispers, and my name on her lips nearly finishes me.
Her thighs tense around my hand as I press in deeper, stroking her slowly, my mouth dragging down her neck, tasting her skin like I need it to survive. She shudders when I kiss the dip of her collarbone, and damn if I don’t want to keep her trembling like this for hours.
“You’re so wet, baby,” I murmur, lips brushing her throat. “You want me that bad?”
She nods—barely—but it’s the soft, desperate sound that leaves her that wrecks me. A whimper, quiet and needy, as she rocks against my hand, chasing more.
My fingers move with her, slick and sure, drawing slow, torturous circles that make her hips twitch and her breath catch.
“Look at you,” I breathe. “So needy. So fucking perfect.” My thumb finds her clit, rubbing in slow, deliberate strokes that make her moan. “Bet I could make you come just like this. Right here. Right now.”
And I want to. God, I want to feel her fall apart for me with nothing but my hand and her name in my mouth.
She gasps, head tipping back with athunkagainst the cabinet, her body arching into mine like she doesn’t care where we are, just that I keep touching her.
I press my mouth to the spot just beneath her jaw, dragging my teeth along her pulse before kissing her there—slow and firm, like I want to leave a mark. Because I do.
“Tell me what you want, baby,” I murmur against her skin, my fingers still teasing between her thighs. “You want to come on my fingers? Or do you want my cock instead?”
All I get is another whimper. Soft, wrecked. She grinds against my hand, chasing more, her body already halfway gone.
But that’s not enough.
Not for me.
“C’mon, sweetheart,” I whisper. “Use that pretty mouth. I want to hear you beg for it.”
Because the second she does? I’m giving her everything.
“Tell me what you want, baby.” I brush my lips against her ear. “Tell me how bad you need it.”
She sucks in a sharp breath, pressing harder against my hand like her body’s already answered for her. Her fingers tighten at the back of my neck, tangling in my hair and yanking just hard enough to make my breath catch.
“Your fingers,” she gasps, barely audible.
I grin against her mouth, cocky and already so far gone for her. “You want my fingers to do what, sweetheart?”
For a second, she hesitates. Just long enough to make me think she might shy away from it. But then she tugs on my hair again, harder this time, and her voice comes out low and wrecked.
“Fuck me with them, Boone.”
Jesus. That does it.
