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He gives it a minute of thought before acquiescing with a curt nod. Not very convincing, but I’m too worked up to care at this point. “Good. Are you hydrated? Because I have a lot of time to make up for and I can’t have you fainting on me.”
His smile is back in full force. Without further delay, he tears me away from the wall and kicks open the door to his bedroom. He drops me on the bed, and I fall back with a sigh of relief. I thought this day would never come.
Grabbing the waist of my skinny jeans, he rips them down to my ankles without even bothering to unbutton them.
“Ouuuch.” My nice guy likes it rough? Didn’t see that coming. I check for burn marks down my thighs with a stupid smile on my face.
“Man up, Jones.” His voice is deeper than usual. Hearing it makes goose bumps break out over my skin. My Gazelles are next. He tosses one by one over his shoulders.
“Okay, but––you know I’m not really a man, right?” I say giggling like a loon.
“Thank fuck for that,” he says, yanking my jeans off for good. “Otherwise I’d have to go gay for you.”
My giggles come to an abrupt stop. Pain and pleasure expand in my chest. Eyes watering, I pick my head up off the pillow and stare at the gorgeous specimen kneeling between my thighs. Hair all mussed, lips swollen, and sexier than any one man has a right to be.
“Fancy––”
At the wobble in my voice, he looks up. “Yeah?”
As he watches me his soft lips descend onto the sensitive skin on the inside of my knee. Kiss after delicate kiss the tension grows. My lady parts throb, desperate for some attention as the kisses travel north.
“That’s the nicest thing anyone’s ever said to me.”
He takes my face in one piece at a time. My lips, my eyes, my clenched jaw. A wolfish grin spreads across his face. “It’s true. Now shut up so I can bone you properly.” He cups me possessively and my eyes do a full roll to the back of my head while my head drops back onto the mattress.
Tender moment over, he gets back to work, taking his time feasting on the insides of my thighs while my prone form tenses in eagerness for what’s to come. When he reaches my panties, strong fingertips curl over the edge of my boy shorts and pause. Curiosity forces my head up. Almost an impossible task but I manage. I find him looking up at me with a heated gaze that could very well send me up in flames all by itself.
“This––” he says. Extending his long blunt index finger, he taps me twice on my poor neglected clit and I nearly shoot off the bed. “Belongs to me now.”
“Oh Gawd,” I half screech, half pant.
He drags my underwear off slowly. Anticipation is a heartless bitch. I’m squirming from it. A moment later his mouth is finally on me, hot, direct. No messing around, he knows what he’s doing.
For a second this bothers me. Only for a second though because he swipes his tongue over my sweet spot and follows that up by sucking on it. My body practically levitates off the bed. I’m on the brink of an O and we’ve barely started.
Either I have a crappy memory, or sex has never ever been this good ever for anyone ever…ever. And we haven’t gotten to the main attraction.
He lifts his head while his arms pin my spread thighs to the bed. “This beautiful pussy is all mine to lick, suck, and fuck––”
My eyes slam open. ‘Scuse me? My nice guy is a dirty talker?
“Whenever I feel like it. And I’m gonna feel like it a lot.”
Holy shit, my nice guy is a dirty talker!
I can’t wait another minute. Not a second longer. I have been drowning in lust for this man for months. They say that the word hysteria derives from some sketchy history of it being specific to women, from the Latin root meaning “of the womb”. Yes, yes, a thousand times yes. My womb is crazy for him.
“Ethan, I need you.” Begging is not beneath me. I would happily crawl over a bed of hot coals if he were to ask. At the sound of his name something sparks. Some of the blatant lust on his face fades, changing to something softer, something affectionate. He gets up, never once breaking eye contact.
“Get naked.”
The bossy type is not my jam. However, by the way my body is responding, getting even more aroused, I approve. Then again, I’m pretty certain it’s the man doing the bossing.
In one fell swoop, I rip my t-shirt and bra off. He’s seen the goods already, or rather lack of goods. No need to be shy. And in return I watch him slowly unbuttons his white dress shirt. I’ve never seen anything sexier––never. I can’t even imagine anything sexier than Ethan standing with his legs slightly spread apart, gray slacks tenting from the massive hard-on he’s showing off, look of utter hunger on his face––and I have a very vivid imagination.
