“Very.”
“Focus on how that feels—the air on that sensitive skin.” He climbed over her and nipped her neck before licking the spot with the flat of his tongue. “Where am I going to touch you first?” He sat back, took her ankle, and brought it up to his shoulder, caressing a hand along her silk-clad calf until he reached her garter and, with a single tug, undid the ribbon. As he rolled the stocking down, there was virtually no difference between the texture of the stocking and the feel of her skin. “You’re so soft.” He turned to press a kiss to the side of her leg before mirroring the action on her opposite side.
With her legs propped on his shoulders, he reached down. “You know what I’m going to do now?”
Her lashes fluttered, her “No” so soft as to almost not exist.
“I’m going to open you like a present.” He reached down and got to work unhooking her short corset until she was naked, her full breasts tapering into dusky nipples.
Fuck. He could barely breathe, let alone think straight. But he had to remain in control. “Stay still for me. Can you do that?”
She gave a little nod, lips parted, her features slack.
“I want to hear you promise.”
“I promise.”
He bent, his tongue circling her nipple, and she bowed, back arching.
He pulled back with a mock scolding. “I told you to stay still.”
She half laughed, half bared her teeth. “But you want to torture me.”
“Only in the best of ways. You said you wanted me calling the shots. You’re still good with that plan?”
“I must be a masochist.”
“Nah. Look at you. You’re greedy for pleasure.” He bent low again, pausing before taking her hard nipple back into his mouth and laving the peak. “But don’t worry, I’m going to let you move later. For now, though, I want you to hold still, keep every ounce of that busy brain focused on me.”
“Why?” Her eyes were glazed.
“Because you’re mine, and you’re never forgetting that.” And he sucked. Hard.
This time she held still. God—he loved that this woman would and could do damn well whatever she pleased, and right here and now, it pleased her to trust him. He wanted her to concentrate and quiet her mind because when he began to level up, it would be more pleasurable if she was fully present.
Normally he liked to check in on a new lover. Ask questions.Do you like this? Harder? Faster?But this wasn’t a new lover. This was Lizzy.HisLizzy. All the focus he’d honed, he’d use here, now. Instead of tracking pucks, he tracked her breaths, her goose bumps, her little moans, and her trembles. He wasn’t cautious or tentative with his strokes and explorations; he wanted her aching, tight, and hot.
He worshiped her neck, the sensitive sides of her breasts, theinner curves of her arms, the soft span of her belly—and then he had his fingers at her center.
Slowly, he traced an outline around her triangle of hair, letting the soft satin of it caress his fingers. She was so wet it sheened, but he still placed his fingers against her mouth.
“What?” Her brows crinkled.
“Suck,” he murmured. The sight of her taking his fingers into her mouth nearly sent him over the edge right there. There was something so erotic, so perfectly fucking filthy about the sight.
“That’s it, work them over,” he panted. “Make them drip.”
Her cheeks hollowed as she sucked harder. It was too good—shit. At this rate, they’d be over before they started.
He pulled his hand back and let a bead of saliva drip down his fingers to the hint of her inner lips, the pink petals just visible. She shuddered as he began to circle in featherlight strokes, slick and steady, working until he found a rhythm that made her teeth latch on her lower lip.
“I’m going to put a finger inside now. Help you adjust first.”
She fisted the blankets. He opened her with one hand, lifting her clit a fraction, pulling back the hood to heighten the sensation. Then he dipped his middle finger in, pushing gently and holding, not far, only to where he could feel the ridges of her G-spot. As she began to breathe again, he pressed in while using his thumb on her clitoris, crooking his finger in a come-hither gesture as she pressed a hand to her mouth, moaning into her skin. She was so wet it was time for one more finger, then another. Her stomach rose and fell in short heaves.
“You are doing such a good job holding still for me.” Her cheeks went as pink as peach blossoms. “But you want to move, don’t you?”
“Please. Please.” She was begging now. “Please.”
