“What are you doing?” I gasped as a jolt of sensation shot through my core.
“I’m playing with your underwear. See?”
He shifted his hands and started tugging on the back and then the front, seesawing it between my thighs. The scrap of black lace slipped between my labia and rolled over my clit. I gasped and gripped the railing, my head falling back as I groaned in delight. Stars were shooting through my blood, exploding upward from where he scraped my underwear back and forth.
And then he stopped, and I nearly screamed in frustration. It took me a moment to catch my breath, but eventually I did. I opened my eyes to look at him.
“Will you leave my sandals on my feet?” I whispered.
“Nope.” He immediately unhooked the buckles, and I stepped out of them. Good. I didn’t want to accidentally impale him with my next move.
“Will you leave my foot on the ground?”
“Never.” And then he grabbed my ankle and angled my leg up and over. He kneaded the arch while he worked, and my toes curled in delight. Then he set my foot right there on his shoulder. His large, too-high shoulder that left me deliciously exposed to the night air. Then he inhaled deeply. “I love that scent.”
Really? I didn’t know what to think. Especially since his hand slid back up my leg and straight to my thong.
“I forgot,” he said. “I’m not done messing with this.”
I felt his fingers, long and strong as they maneuvered beneath the thong. And then I heard a pop.
I jolted.
“Did you just rip my thong?”
He didn’t answer except to arch a brow. And then I felt a jerk on the fabric slightly above the other leg. Yup. He’d just torn apart my underwear. And if the seesaw of the fabric had been delicious before, it was devastating now as he pulled it as high as it would go, then slowly drew it out.
And this time my knees did go out. My foot slid off his shoulder and down his back, drawing him right where I wanted him.
I felt his breath, hot over my wetness. His hands supported me, one cupping my rear, the other slipping between folds, burrowing deep enough to make me groan and opening me to his tongue.
Or so I thought. Instead, he just held still.
“Ellie,” he whispered as he scraped his teeth along my thigh. “Ask me to do something.”
I’d never asked for what I wanted before. I just wasn’t made that way, except in my dreams. But I’d spent years fantasizing about Jake and now here he was, on a night built of fantasies. It was time to live what I wanted instead of just dream it. So while my face heated in embarrassment, the rest of me discovered how to be bold.
“Will you…” I took a breath. “Will you stop licking my clit?”
“I never started.” And then he did. A tiny burrow, a harder push. Stroke after stroke, while I squeezed my heel into his back. I shamelessly thrust myself onto his tongue. Deeper. Stronger.
My belly quivered. My breath caught. And I gripped the railing while my inhibitions shattered.
He licked. He pushed. And then he sucked. Hard.
Wow!
Pleasure shot through my body as I went wild. My leg tightened, pressing my heel into his back and lifting me off the ground. He kept at it, at me, and I screamed as I lost my balance. He caught me. Hell, he was already holding me, but suddenly he had all my weight as I toppled to the ground.
He made it smooth, even rolling beneath me so that I landed on top. The whole situation was ridiculous. I was lying on top of him, my ass bared to the stars. But I felt so good, he was so solid, and yes, I’d just let a man devour me on an outdoor balcony. Better yet, that man was Jake. I started laughing, and he echoed the sound. I felt deep rumbles against my chest, sweet kisses on my neck. My head dangled and my legs were splayed across his very flat belly. I tried to think of something clever to say. This was the time for bright banter, for sweet tenderness, or something. But my brain was too fuzzy, my heart too happy.
I’d been half in love with him long before yesterday’s barbecue. Fantasies about him had filled those long nights when my entire life had been dedicated to work and school. He’d been the secret crush who watched silly movies with me when I couldn’t sleep, and the dream who held me in his arms at night when I’d done poorly on a test or screwed up at work. He was the man I ran to in my thoughts when I wanted a hug or a great orgasm. And now he’d given me both.
If I’d been half in love with him before, I was tumbling fast now. It wasn’t real. I knew that. But it felt so perfect, I couldn’t help but let myself fall into it. I wanted more of the hot passion I’d just tasted. And even more than that, I wanted a morning after. And a thousand after that.
It wasn’t real, I repeated, but my heart wasn’t listening. So I pressed a kiss to his forehead and whispered the first thought that came into my head.
“Will you please, never, ever do that again?”
