Her stomach jerks as I roll her nipple, and a moan slips free.
“Mm,” I rumble, mouth brushing her jaw. “Those ones.”
I push her top higher, and she lifts her arms so I can tug it over her head. Her hair spills loose around her shoulders, and I don’t rush it—I let my eyes drag over her, taking in every inch before I lean down and close my mouth around her nipple through the lace of her bra.
The sound she makes punches straight through me, and when her hand dives into my hair, my cock jerks hard against my stomach.
“God, Pen—keep it down,” I whisper, half-laughing. “Elle’s got ears like a bat.”
She nods, but there’s mischief in her eyes. “You can try and make me.”
I move lower, popping the button on her jeans and dragging the zipper down. The second my fingers slide over damp lace, she sucks in a sharp breath, and another strangled sound slips free.
I hum, kissing up her throat. “This wet already, and I haven’t even tasted you.”
“Stop talking and fix that then,” she pants, tugging at my T-shirt until I strip it off.
We get tangled in the rest of stripping each other down, our hands everywhere, her laugh breaking when my zipper catches, and I swear under my breath.
By the time I finally shove everything off, we’re both breathing harder than we should be. Then, for one second, I'm frozen.
“Look at you.” I drag my hand from her hip to her ribs, watching goose bumps rise beneath my palm. “My fucking dream come true.”
Her eyes drop to take me in, gaze sliding over my chest, my stomach, lower.
“You’re one to talk.”
The way she looks at me makes something hot and possessive move through my blood, and it does something dangerous to me.
Her hand wraps around my cock, and she slowly pumps it as my head tips back.
“Protection?” she whispers.
“Yeah.” I reach for the nightstand, fingers brushing pens and batteries out of the way before finding the foil packet. “You want me to put it on now?”
Her gaze softens. “I have an IUD too, but yeah. Wrap up when you’re ready to fuck me.”
A low chuckle rumbles out of me. “That’s my girl.”
I shift back, hooking my arms behind her knees and dragging her to the edge of the bed, where I pause there for a beat.
“One more thing,” I say, more seriously. “If anything feels off or too much, gimme a color. Green means keep going, yellow means slow, red means we stop. No questions.”
She studies my face, then nods. “Okay.”
I hold her gaze a second longer. “Color, sweetheart?”
“Green,” she breathes, then smirks. “Firefighter.”
Heat rolls through me, and I spread her knees wide.
“Good,” I mumble, lowering between them. “Because I’m fucking starving.”
The first slow lick makes her whole body arch, and she slaps a palm over her mouth, eyes scrunched tight. I smile against her, circling the tip of my tongue over her clit until her thighs start to tremble around my shoulders.
Every muffled sound hits me hard, and I slide two fingers inside her, curling them just right. She curses against her hand.
“Oh,fuck—greeeeen,” she gasps out, barely audible.
