“Is this—” My voice cracks, and I have to swallow hard. “Jesus Christ. Did you plan this?”
Color floods Vincent’s cheeks, spreading down his neck to disappear beneath the red lace. He looks away. “Not really. I just… I like wearing it.”
I trace the edge of the lace with one finger, feeling his sharp intake of breath at the contact. “I like it too,” I admit, surprising myself with how much I mean it. “Fuck, Vincent. You have no idea what you do to me.”
To prove my point, I grind my hips down against his, letting him feel exactly how hard I am already. The friction draws a groan from both of us.
“Take it off,” Vincent says, tugging at my shirt. “I want to feel you.”
I sit back on my heels, straddling his thighs as I pull myhenley over my head in one fluid motion. Vincent’s eyes track the movement, his pupils expanding until only a thin ring of amber remains. His hands rise to my bare chest, exploring.
“Your turn,” I murmur, helping him sit up enough to shrug out of his open shirt.
With the fabric gone, I can see the full effect of the bralette against his tanned skin. The straps cut across his shoulders, emphasizing their breadth. The lace cups his pecs in a way that should look ridiculous on a man but somehow looks hot as hell on Vincent.
“You’re fucking gorgeous,” I tell him, my voice rough with honesty.
His lips curve into a half-smile, still hesitant but gaining confidence from my reaction. “Yeah?”
“Yeah.” I lean down to capture his mouth again, this kiss slower, deeper, my tongue sliding against his until he moans.
My hands work between us, finding the button of his jeans. When I slide the zipper down, my knuckles brush against the hard length of him, and his hips buck up. Impatient now, I hook my fingers in the waistband of his jeans.
“Lift up,” I command, and he does, allowing me to tug the denim down his legs.
I nearly swallow my tongue when I see what’s beneath.
Matching the red bralette, a pair of lace panties hugs his hips, the material stretched taut over his erection. A wet spot darkens the front where he’s already leaking. The sight is so erotic I have to close my eyes for a moment or risk embarrassing myself.
“Fuck,” I mutter, opening my eyes to drink him in again.
Vincent bites his lower lip, his eyes meeting mine with a mixture of defiance and vulnerability.
It doesn’t matter if he wore this for me specifically or just because he likes it. All that matters is that he’s here, spread out on my bed like every fantasy I never knew I had.
I help him kick his jeans the rest of the way off, leaving him in nothing but the matching set of lingerie. The contrast of the delicate fabric against his masculine form—the hard planes of his stomach, the defined muscles of his thighs—is the most arousing thing I’ve ever seen.
“Alex,” he says, his voice small and uncertain as I stare. “Say something.”
“I can’t,” I admit, dragging my gaze up to meet his. “I can’t think. All I know is I’ve never wanted anyone the way I want you.”
Relief floods his expression, and he reaches for me, pulling me down for another kiss. My hands roam his body, exploring every inch of skin I can reach. I cup him through the lace panties, feeling the hard length of him against my palm, and he moans into my mouth.
I move down his body, trailing kisses along his jaw, his throat, the sharp line of his collarbone. When I reach the edge of the bralette, I trace it with my tongue, tasting salt and skin before mouthing at his nipple through the lace.
Vincent’s body goes taut beneath me, a strangled sound escaping his throat. I do it again, this time using my teeth to graze the sensitive bud, and his back arches off the bed.
“Sensitive,” I murmur against his skin, pleased with my discovery.
“Don’t act so smug,” he pants, but there’s no bite to his words, not when his fingers are clutching at my shoulders, urging me to continue.
I give his other nipple the same treatment, watching hisface in the mirror across the room as I tease him through the lace. His head is thrown back, throat exposed, lips parted as he gasps for air. The sight is addictive—knowing I’m the one reducing him to this state.
I kiss my way down his stomach, and his muscles jump and tremble beneath my lips. His scent grows stronger as I move lower, a mix of clean sweat and arousal that makes my head spin. When I reach the waistband of the panties, I glance up to find him watching me, his eyes heavy-lidded and hungry.
I press my mouth against the hard line of him through the lace, breathing hot air against the damp fabric. His cock twitches beneath my lips, and I can’t resist dragging my tongue along his length, tasting the salt that’s soaked through.
“Alex,” Vincent moans, the sound of my name in that broken voice sending heat racing through my veins.
