She whimpers when I grind against her, the contact too good, too much, and my brain shorts out.
“Tell me to stop,” I breathe against her jaw. “Tell me you don’t want this.”
Her nails rake my shoulders, voice breaking. “I want you.”
I curse under my breath as I press my forehead to hers. “You have no idea what you’re asking for.”
She smiles and whispers. “Show me then, Idareyou.”
Her breath trembles against my lips as I cup her jaw, my thumb grazing the corner of her lips.
“You scare me,” I admit, voice so raw it hurts.
Her fingers slide up my throat, resting just below my jaw, her pulse racing against mine.
“Why?”
“Because I want you,” I breathe, “more than I’ve wanted anything since the fire.”
And I don’t get to want things anymore.
Her expression softens as she sees right through the steel plates I’ve welded over my chest, and without hesitation, she presses her lips to the scar climbing my cheek.
“You deserve things you want,” she whispers.
Fuck. I’m ruined.
My hands go to her hips as I lift her, placing her back onto the bull, her legs swinging idly on the bull’s side.
Not to increase the distance between us... but to admire. To breathe. To memorize.
She’s sitting there, her legs parted just enough for me to stand between them, her dress riding high, giving me a peek of her white lace thong.
“Reed… touch me.”
My self–control shatters completely.
I run my hands up the front of her thighs as my fingers trace reverent paths on her skin.
She trembles, not from cold, but because of me. Every tiny sound she makes burns into my bloodstream.
“You’re shaking,” I say quietly.
“I’m excited,” she counters as she leans her forehead into mine. “And you’re looking at me like I’m yours.”
Trailing my lips along her cheek, down her throat, I taste her pulse pounding under my tongue.
“You think I don’t already feel like you are?”
A ragged breath escapes her as she arches her back, pressing her chest against me, desperate for friction.
I nip at her hardened nipple beneath her dress, grasp her hips, and pull her closer until her body molds perfectly to mine.
A soft, breathy moan slips out of her as she reaches down and palms my cock through my jeans. Fuck, I’m shaking now, too.
My hands move downward until they meet the soft lace again. I run my finger over her swollen clit, before slipping my fingers under the lace, gently pulling them aside.
I slide my finger up her tight heat, feeling how wet sheis, which makes me groan. “You’re so wet for me,” I choke out, my forehead pressed to her collarbone.
