I reach for his tie, loosening the knot slowly. My fingers brush the warm skin of his throat, and his breath hitches. Something about this man on the verge of losing control because of me is the most potent aphrodisiac.
“You could help.”
“I could,” he agrees.
He doesn’t move.
The tie slides free, and I toss it over the chair before moving to the buttons of his shirt. One by one, I work them open, my knuckles grazing his chest as the fabric parts.
He stays still through all of it, shoulders relaxed, arms loose at his sides, as though this—standing here while I undress him—is something he’s been waiting to see happen.
When I reach the last button, I push the shirt open and slide my hands across his chest. “Still not helping?”
His voice drops lower. “You told me to let you do it.”
I push the shirt off his shoulders, and this time, he lifts his arms slightly so I can pull it free from his waistband. My fingers manipulate the button on his pants, and his stomach indents with a big breath. I slowly lower the zipper over his bulge, and the groan that escapes him pulls a smile from my lips.
“Something funny?”
“Nothing.” I slide my hands around the inside of his waistband to his ass and push the pants down.
I’m so hot and horny for this man, I have no idea how I’ve waited this long.
He steps out of his pants and takes off his socks as I sit on the edge of the bed and admire him in only his black boxer briefs. Once he’s done, he steps closer, hovering over me. I run my hand over his dick trying to free itself from his boxers. His fingers unhook my bra, and I slip my arms free of it.
Staring down at me, his eyes turn molten, and he bites into his bottom lip. “Take off your panties.”
I hurriedly shed them.
His hands dive into my hair, his eyes roaming along every bare inch of my skin. “Get farther up on the bed, Pen.”
I do as he says while he takes off his boxers, his thick length bouncing out and up from the fabric.
He climbs onto the bed, and I almost smile, but it dissolves when he kisses me again and his weight settles fully over me. I can feel how tightly wound he is, how close he is to the edge of his control, and it only makes my desire stronger.
“I’m yours,” I whisper.
His reaction is immediate.
A low sound leaves him, and his forehead drops briefly to mine, as if he’s gathering whatever frayed pieces of control he can scrape up.
“Oh Pen, I’m yours too. Always have been.” He says it with so much heart that tears fill my eyes.
His mouth moves down me again, his hands learning me in long, unhurried passes that feel anything but innocent. Every touch is more intimate than the last, every kiss drawing me tighter and tighter until I’m arching into him without thinking, wanting more, needing more.
“I’m on the pill, and I haven’t…”
“I haven’t been with anyone in a long time, Pen. I’ve been tested.”
The tip of him teases my opening, and I arch, needing him to fill me completely.
“Okay.”
He lifts his head just enough to look at me. “You want me bare?”
I nod. “Yes.”
His expression changes—something hotter, darker, fiercely satisfied transforming it. He slides into me, every inch earning another guttural groan from him. “Shit, you’re wet.”
