“I am so impressed.Slightly terrified of what that might mean… but…” I trail off and grin at him like an idiot while he laughs some more.
Then I tilt his chin up and kiss the hell out of him, and neither one of us says anything for a long, long while.
It’s easy to lose myself with his body against mine, the surprisingly soft waves of his hair in my hands.When I move my hips, hitting the hard length of him, we both moan.
My eyes flutter open and Aiden’s staring at me with such hot, undisguised need that I’m surprised my clothes don’t just automatically go up in flames.
They don’t, though, so I have to make do with pulling everything off as fast as I can.There’s nothing graceful or elegant or even remotely sexy about the sudden tangle of our arms and legs and pants and shirts, and by the time we’re both down to our underwear, we’re breathless and laughing all over again.
It should be this easy, this fun, all the time, and I don’t think I’ve ever felt this relaxed and happy with anyone else.
Only Aiden.
I shed my bra, shimmying out of my very plain underwear, done with the build-up and ready for more, practically launching myself at him.
“You’re so beautiful,” he murmurs, and the words stop me in my tracks.“Turn around?”he asks, doing a little turn motion with his pointer finger.
I do as he asks, self-conscious—until I turn back and see the evidence of his attraction hard in his hand.
Then I pretty much don’t care at all anymore about the many flaws and scars my body wears because I want him, and he clearly wants me, too.
“I like what you’re working with,” I blurt.
His eyes widen and he tilts his head.“You like what I’m working with?”He gives his cock a stroke, and I nod like an idiot.
“Yup.Two thumbs up.”
A massive grin splits his face, and he puts a hand on my hip to pull me towards him.He’s warm and his muscly arms feel just right around me, and yet, he’s gentle, slow, as he trails his fingers along the curves of my body.
My shoulder, my collarbone, the curve of my breast.
He dips his head to suck my nipple into his mouth, and I gasp at the sensation.His free hand finds my other breast and I moan, loudly, desire and need building between my legs.
Switching sides, he slowly, so slowly, runs his hand over my hip, pausing to look up at me.
Biting my lip, I nod and he slides his hand lower, between my legs, right where I want him.
“Fuck,” he says on a groan, nibbling on the lobe of my ear.“You’re so wet for me.”
A needy, wordless noise escapes me.
It feels so good, he feels so good—and it’s all I can do to dig my fingers into his shoulders and hold on for dear life.
“That’s it, sweetheart, take what you need,” he murmurs, the encouragement, the praise sending me higher and higher along with the expert motions of his thick fingers.
“Slower,” I say, hardly recognizing my own breathy voice.
He laughs, a rough grating noise that’s completely at odds with the now-gentle way he’s touching me.
“Tell me what you need,” he says, and when I make an impatient noise, he thrusts two fingers inside me.
I arch backwards as his thumb keeps up that slow, incredible circle on my clit, and I’m so close that I lose track of everything but the steady rhythm of his hands.
“I’ve got you, Sylvie.”
“I need more,” I say, slightly frantic with need.
“Good, good girl,” he says, voice full of amusement and appreciation.“I’m taking you upstairs.”
