“Now look here.” I drilled a forefinger into his chest. “You will take me very seriously, or I’ll?—”
He ducked his head and kissed me. “What?” he said when he pulled back. His eyes were hot and heavy on mine. “You’ll what, huh? Yeah. That’s what I thought.”
I hunted for a decent threat. “I shall withhold your lattes.”
“Go ahead,” he said, and squeezed my arse. “I’m not here for your lattes.”
I rubbed myself against him, stroking his arms restlessly. “Why do you want me to be loud, anyway?” I said. “Am I…? Am I doing it wrong?”
He drew back, staring at me in surprise. “No. Of course not. You’re perfect.”
His words were raw and honest, and I couldn’t doubt that he believed them.
Even though they were, objectively, utter nonsense.
“I like making you lose it,” he said. “You lose it so nicely for me.”
I blushed.
Ugh.
He ran the backs of his fingers over the curve of my cheek and hummed. “Every time. It’s like you’re starving for it.”
I blushed even harder. “I’m not.”
“I know,” he said soothingly, still stroking my cheek. I couldn’t quite meet his eyes. “You’re starving for me.” He traced my bottom lip and slipped two fingers into my mouth. “Just for me, Charlie.”
I took a sharp breath in through my nose but didn’t protest when he rested his fingers on my tongue. His eyes sharpened when I tightened my lips and swallowed nervously.
“I love your noises,” he said. “Especially the ones you make when I blow you. I almost never get to hear them.”
I lifted my chin, sliding his fingers out, and said, “Perhaps you should blow me more often. You’re welcome to do it whenever you feel the need. Have at it.”
“Thank you. Don’t mind if I do.” He kissed my nose.
“The real reason you don’t hear me isn’t because I’m not making any noise. It’s because you make such a racket.”
And god how I loved it. He was vigorous and hearty. He held nothing back. My arms were around his waist and I let my hands drift down to hold his muscular buttocks.
He arched his spine, pushing into my touch. “Can’t help it,” he said. “You turn me on that hard. And that’s kind of my point. I reckon if I’m holding you down and using something on you, I won’t be the one making all the noise. That way, I can watch your face at the same time.”
I was both horrified and aroused at the idea of it—of me unravelling and Kevin still being in control. Of him watching me.
He gave me a slow and filthy smile.
“We could always gag you,” I said weakly. “Then you might be able to hear me.” I laughed at his expression. “Hah. Hadn’t thought of that, had you?”
He wrangled me onto the bed and dropped on top.
I stretched out with a happy hum, wrapping my arms around him.
Kevin seemed morerealto me than anyone else in the whole world.
Was it because I touched him all the time, and he touched me? Because I knew his body now—how he felt on me, under me, sliding over me like he was now, working against me like he would in a minute? How he felt sleeping against me, holding me close, or snoring in my face?
No. It wasn’t his uncompromising physicality and presence. It washim. Kevin.
A large, strong man. A rude, demanding lover. A sweet, generous partner.
