Page 79 of Blush Crush

She goes tense against the wall as her rounded eyes stare into mine. “Somewhere else like…” She trails off, cheeks blushing bright enough to see even in the shadows.

“Yeah,” I say simply. “I really want to. Been wondering for a while if your pussy is as sweet as I’ve been imagining.”

She stares at me, processing it all. “You really want to?” she asks skeptically, like it’s unbelievable that I would want to give her pleasure.

I don’t know who’s convinced this woman she’s not desirable, but I’m fucking sick of it. I thrust the lower half of my body against her so she can feel just how hard my cock is. “Feel that? Feel how hard I am for you? Does that feel like charity to you? Like I’m only wanting to do something out of obligation? Like I’m not dying to eat your pussy? Believe me, I want you. I want to bury my face between your thighs and lick your pussy until you scream, until you’re coming on my tongue.”

“I’ve never—” she starts.

“I know.”

“So I don’t know if I’ll?—”

“You will.” She’ll come, I’ll make sure of it. I’ll drown in her if I have to. “But only if you want to. I’m not trying to force you, this is your decision. We can go back right now and I’ll spend the rest of the night keeping my hands to myself, being the perfect gentleman.”

She drags in an inhale, but for all the hesitancy flickering across her face, there’s curiosity there too. Want. Need. Shewants it, I know she does. I just need her to be brave enough to own it.

Before I can say one last thing to put her at ease, to reassure her, she reaches for me, crossing her hands around my neck, tangling her fingers in my hair, and pressing her lips to mine.

This is the first time she’s been the one to initiate something physical between us. To kiss me first, to touch me unprompted.

I didn’t realize how badly I needed to feel wanted. Needed her to show me that some part of her does feel this too.

It’s everything I need to stop overthinking and just let go.

I grab her hips roughly, sliding my hands around the curve of her ass, bending to grab her thighs and lift her off the floor, never breaking our connection.

I’ll never understand why Ariana thinks she’s too heavy for me. I can lift three times her weight on a bad day. I can more than handle her, and I’ve been dreaming about feeling her thick thighs wrapped around my waist for so long that when I finally do, the relief of it nearly undoes me.

With one hand supporting her, I use the other to reach behind her and open the door.

The room is dark except for the pale light coming from the small bedside lamp and the moon reflecting off the lake through the windows, the lake beyond a black mirror under the winter sky.

I gently lower her onto the bed, coming down with her. She scoots up until her head lands on the pillows as my knees slide across the comforter, one planted between her legs to keep them from closing up on me.

Her dress is bunched on her upper thighs, a few more inches and I’d be graced with the view of her panty-covered pussy.

I sit up to take in every beautiful piece of her beneath me. Her hair fanned out on the pillow, her swollen, pouty lips, creamy skin pink and heated, eyes so trusting as they look up at me.The fact that this gorgeous, amazing, way too fucking good for me woman is allowing me to touch her, to be the first man lucky enough to taste her—it’s a goddamn privilege I do not take lightly. It’s my fucking honor.

She gnaws on her bottom lip, eyes still trusting but also blinking nervously.

“You still with me?”

She nods, breathing ragged.

I can tell she’s nervous as hell, I can feel the trembling of her body. And I’m not sure what comes over me, but I bend down to place a kiss on the tip of her nose, cupping her face in my hands like the precious creature she is. I kiss her cheek, then the other. Her chin, her forehead, dotting kisses all over her face. “Stay with me,” I whisper. “Relax, baby. Let me make you feel good.” Shifting, I prop one hand on the pillow and use my free one to roam the side of her body, skimming over the fabric of her dress to trace her mesmerizing curves like a man wanting to commit the shape of her body to memory—if only to recreate it with clay like the goddamn work of art she is.

Slowly, the tension releases from her, her back starting to curve off the bed, head tipping, neck rolling back.

I travel down to her neck, leaving a wet kiss on the spot I know she loves, right where the curve of her shoulder starts.

“Oooh.” She moans.

“How are you feeling?” I ask, making sure to meet her eyes.

“Good.” She swallows, nodding. “I like everything you’re doing.”

Pride washes over me. I know she’s nervous about all this, but so am I. I’ve never cared this much about getting it right, but the thought of disappointing her or pushing her where she’s not ready to go has me questioning every decision.