She deepens the kiss, and blood sluices in my head as Fourth of July fireworks burst to life behind my closed eyes. I didn’t even realize I shut them.
But I want to see her expression, see every minuscule twitch as she falls apart in my arms.
I rip my lips away from hers, struggling to regain control, to modulate my breathing.
“Fuck, pretty girl. We have to stop. We have to…”
She begins to plant open-mouthed kisses against my neck.
“Do you want to stop?” Her words are husky, laced with desire and unbridled heat.
“What type of question is that?” My lashes flutter as sensations overwhelm me. “But I’m trying to be a gentleman here and?—”
Izzy leans away from me, whips off her shirt, and tosses it aside. Her bra follows next.
Me no brain. No brain me. Words no.
My mouth waters as I stare at her perfect tits and those tight nipples desperate for my mouth.
“Be a good boy and kiss me right…” She trails a finger up her bare stomach, between the valley of her breasts, until she reaches her right nipple. Slowly, her eyes never leaving mine, she circles it until the nub hardens. “Here.”
My cock jerks to life, and I immediately lean forward to capture her dusky nipple in my mouth. I run my tongue back and forth over the tip, flicking it repeatedly, before sucking it roughly.
She moans and scrapes her fingernails up and down my back, catching them in the fabric of my shirt and pulling it up in the process. I release her tit to remove my shirt and then immediately pick up where I left off.
I swear I could play with her nipples for hours, but Izzy has other ideas.
With an impish smirk, she pushes at my shoulders, forcing me to sit upright once more.
“Lie on your back,” she instructs, her husky voice cascading through me like magma, lighting my body on fire.
I do as she says, my heart racing, my palms damp with sweat, my cock chafing against my damn jeans.
“Holy fuck, pretty girl,” I rasp. “You’re so fucking sexy.”
Izzy straddles my waist once more, and I don’t think I’ve ever seen anything more beautiful than a shirtless Izzy on top of me.
“I’m going to make you beg for me, Emery,” she warns. “And you’re going to be a good boy and accept only what I give you.”
A whimper catches in my throat, and I instinctively reach for her waist, my fingers flexing on her bare skin.
“Hands to yourself,” she barks.
“But…”
“Hands to yourself,” she repeats, and I immediately lower my hands back to my sides.
Fuck, I want to touch her, feel her, run the pads of my fingers across her satiny skin.
But more than anything, I want her to praise me again. Call me a good boy. Reward me.
Holy fuck.
Izzy grins deviously and then lowers her lips to my jawline, planting chaste, gentle kisses down the column of my throat. Every once in a while, her teeth scrape against my skin, and I bite my lip to keep from crying out.
Her mouth moves lower, and a shock of sensation rushes through me when she captures one of my nipples in her mouth.
“Holy fuck!” I pant out, writhing. “That feels so good, baby. So fucking good. Please let me touch you. Please. I want to make you feel good.”
