His left hand yanked one way as his right yanked the other… but nothing happened, save for him grunting and turning red from the force.
“Fuck. We need scissors,” he said.
“Do we?”
Braden looked at me, at my top that had affronted him, and then back. “Fuck it,” he said, and then he lowered down like he was about to bite me like a vampire.
Instead, he tore through the fabric of my sweater with his teeth, just enough to get purchase with his hands.
And this time when he leaned back on his knees and tore at my clothes, they gave way.
My sweater split down the middle with a satisfyingriiiip, all the way to my belly button.
I leaned up to see the damage with my jaw unhinged, and a laugh rippled out of me when I laid back in the comforter. “Fuck yeah, Boss.”
Braden was smiling, too, like he couldn’t believe he’d done it, but then his eyes roamed, that gaze heating, smile sliding right off again. He groaned when he took my breast in his hand again, this time devouring it with his touch and his gaze both.
“These fucking tits,” he said roughly, squeezing before he lowered his mouth. One swirl of his tongue, one nip of his teeth, and I was arching into him, reaching for his pants with my good hand, silently pleading. “These tattoos,” he said next, eyes and hands roving over the ink on my skin. “They’re so fucking pretty, Em.Youare so goddamn gorgeous.”
“And you are so fucking bad at quickies,” I panted, tugging at his pants. “Get inside me.”
“Greedy thing.”
“My list, my rules.”
He smiled against my mouth with another hard kiss, and I felt him working his pants down as he did. Then, he was on his knees again, ripping my sweats down and tugging them off one leg and then the other.
“Em,” he husked when I was bare, shaking his head as he took in the sight of me. I tried not to get self-conscious of the fact that I was bare in other ways, too — injured, vulnerable, no makeup, no glam hair.
But he didn’t seem to clock any of that.
His gaze was focused between my thighs, his hands spreading me wider like he was taking in the fucking Mona Lisa.
“I have to taste you.”
He didn’t wait for my permission or acknowledge that he was woefully failing the first checkmark on my list. He just dove down, arms sliding under my thighs as he pulled my pussy to his mouth.
I moaned when he swept his tongue over me, my good hand sliding into his hair and holding on for dear life. He wasn’t gentle or easy, not now that he knew my arm was supported and fine. He devoured me — tongue swirling, teeth nipping, mouth working in a tantalizing sucking rhythm as the most pornographic slurping sounds left him.
“Braden,” I breathed, not sure what I was asking of him. Keep going? Don’t stop? Fuck me?
When I was so close to coming I felt the fire licking along my spine, Braden seemed to remember the mission. He climbed his way up, kissing me hard as he hiked my thigh up around his hip and reached down to position himself at my entrance.
“Condom,” he managed, barely restrained.
“Fuck it.”
“Em,” he cursed. And yes, my name was absolutely a curse as he dropped his forehead to mine.
“I have an IUD and I know we were both tested for the season. Besides, I’m not having sex with anyone else. Are you?”
He swallowed at that, shaking his head. “Not in years,” he confessed. “Which works out well for this first item on the list because I’m not going to last long.”
“Me either,” I breathed, and then I kissed him harder, holding onto him tightly and urging him inside me with a press of my sock-covered heel against his ass.
He answered with a groan, his tip sliding inside me, and with one full, hard flex, he answered on his promise.
He bottomed out.
