“Bossy, aren’t we?” I tease but do exactly as he asks, anticipation driving me wild.
“I just can’t wait to have you again.”
Pressing the palms of his hands against the inner part of my knees, he spreads my legs even wider. Nestling his torso between my legs, he leans down and begins kissing my left inner thigh just above my knee. He slowly works his mouth upward as his hands massage the back of my calves.
As his mouth reaches the edge of the blue lace, my core craves his touch. Instead, he moves his mouth to the top of my right thigh. He kisses his way downward toward my knee, andhis right hand glides up my other leg, stopping at my vee to cover the thin strip of wet lace.
He raises his head and our eyes lock. Softly at first, he moves his thumb up and down along the center of the lace.
I arch upward, begging for more pressure. He complies. I moan and writhe at his touch but need more. “Please, touch me, Stuart.”
His fingers slip under the edge of the fabric, deftly finding my swollen nub. He tenderly rubs circles around it. Then moves up and down with just the right pressure, causing a wonderful tension to build.
He whispers, “Tell me what you need.”
I gasp, “Just don’t stop.”
He follows directions well, expertly teasing and taunting me until I’m almost there. “Stuart, yes. That’s it. Yes. Harder.” I fall over the edge, gripping his shoulder as I shudder in a way I’ve never felt before.
He slides us farther up onto the bed, holding me against his bare chest until my breathing returns to normal.
Then he says, “It’s time for these to go,” as he reaches down, slipping my lace underwear off my legs.
In an instant, he ditches his boxer briefs. Reaching for a condom from the nightstand, he swiftly rolls it on, asking, “Are you ready for more.”
I nod, at a loss for words.
“You need to tell me you want this.”
I manage to whisper, “I do.”
He doesn’t waste a second before pulling my wrists over my head and sliding into me in a slow, continuous motion.
I wrap my legs around him, pulling him toward me. I want as much of his skin touching me as possible.
We fall into a rhythm that’s exactly what I need. It’s as if we were made for each other. We each anticipate the other’s moves.
As sensation builds toward another orgasm, I sigh. “You feel so good.”
“So do you. You’re amazing,” he growls, desire filling his deep voice.
Releasing my hands, he slips his palms under my ass and thrusts deeper inside me. I gasp at the pressure, digging my fingernails into his back.
“Yes, baby. Let go for me,” he demands, pumping faster as his mouth dips down to suck one of my nipples.
That does it, and I soar over the cliff again.
Seconds later, he takes one final thrust and finds his own release.
Rolling to the side, he snuggles me against him, tucking my head under his neck.
As he strokes my back, he whispers, “You never said whether you’ll come to London with me. Please say you will.”
“I will.”
EPILOGUE: STUART
London. Two weeks later.
