Page 52 of The F*ck-It List

Without further discussion, August lifts me from the counter, my legs wrapping instinctively around his waist, arms around his shoulders, our lips locked once more. When he starts climbing the stairs, I cry out, clinging to him tighter.

I can feel his smile over my mouth as he murmurs, “I’ve got you.”

Three little words that seem to hold so much meaning above and beyond not letting me fall, and I believe him in every sense, wrappingmy arms tighter around his neck and kissing him deeply as we ascend. The old floors creak under August’s footsteps as we get to the top of the stairs, and he turns into my bedroom. The way he lowers me to my bed is gentle, careful but controlled. He follows me down, crowding me to the mattress and covering me with his warm body.

Our mouths work over each other, tongues stroking and hands roaming. I just keep thinking how big he is, broad in the shoulders, thick in the waist, his thighs are solid, and his hands are so strong as they stroke and squeeze everywhere they can reach. I’m resentful of the clothes between us, my hands delving up under the hem of his t-shirt, feeling hot skin and the course hair that trails down from his belly button to the waist of his sweats.

Taking my lead, August pushes beneath the legs of my shorts until his fingertips are digging into the softness of my cheek, hard. He squeezes and kneads, moving further into my shorts until he’s fingering my crease. I whimper into his kiss, rocking my hips, hoping to build the friction where I’m craving it. Our kisses slow and August pulls away to look down on me, lust drunk and kiss swollen as his eyes dart over the features of my face, taking everything in.

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispers, awe in his voice.

I can’t help the smile that stretches my lips, to be seen by this man, for him to think me beautiful, it’s addicting, a high like nothing I’ve experienced before and one I want to have a hit of over and over. He mirrors my grin, his own smile transforming his face, making him seem younger somehow. He’s gorgeous, straight, white teeth and full yet masculine lips. Golden brown eyes that hold mine with intensity and respect. He’s handsome clean shaven but I find myself missing thescruff, liking the carefree look on him. I cup his cheek, swiping my thumb over the stubble already growing back.

“Not so bad yourself, you know.”

When he kisses me again it’s softer but no less passionate, his hips pressing into mine and my legs spreading to accommodate him. Even with the clothing between us, the size of him is daunting as he grinds his hardness against my centre. But the pleasure overtakes any concerns when the lace of my panties rubs over my clit in the exact way I need and I shudder beneath him.

August slides his hand up under my tank, over the sensitive skin of my waist and my ribs, until his palm covers my breast, those calloused, strong fingers massaging the flesh. With one pass of his thumb over my peaked nipple, I’m panting against him, my ankles locking at his back and my hips rolling against him.

I’m desperate for skin on skin, to feel the heat and weight of him, my mind is just static, white noise and no cohesive thoughts but those of getting this man naked and inside me. Tugging at his shirt, I attempt to pull it off of him without breaking our kiss, which obviously doesn’t work. He laughs as I grumble my frustration, taking pity on me and sitting back on his heels. He seems to take a fortifying breath, steeling himself before peeling his plain white tee over his head. My grin is dopey and lust drunk as I take him in. He’s broad and big, a slightly rounded stomach, and big pecs with a little softness to them, pink nipples small and hard. He has thick, dark chest hair that tapers down toward his belly button leaving a sparce trail to disappear beneath his sweats. His arms are so thick, beefy biceps flexing, and I remember how easily he carried me up the stairs. I bet he could throw me around caveman style. God, I’m wet.

When I drag my eyes back to his face, he looks less sure, maybe a little uncomfortable, and my brows dip. “You okay?”

He nods, swallowing hard and roving his gaze over my still clothed body. I shrug out of my oversized cardigan and pull my tank over my head, my nipples immediately tingling in the cold air. August licks his lips, staring at where my flesh pebbles and peaks. When I start pushing my pyjama shorts down, his fingers curl into the waistband, and pull them down my legs, keeping my knee-high fuzzy socks on. His mouth hitches up on one side when he takes in the pink panties I’m wearing.

“No spiders today?” he asks, amusement glinting in his pretty brown eyes.

I cock a brow. “It might have been a while, but I’m pretty sure it’s cobweb free down there.”

He laughs, low and rumbly, a sound that has me clenching my thighs, and when he leans forward to kiss me, his fingers stroke over the fabric of my underwear, slipping low between my legs and keeping the pressure too light to give me what I need, but teasing at me with tickling passes of his fingertips. I use my heels to push the waist of his sweats down, getting them over the swell of his peachy butt and working them down his legs.

Our lips stay connected as I snake a hand between us and wrap my hand around his…what the…? I push him up and he goes willingly so I can look down at him.Holy crap on a cracker.

“Jesus, August,” I croak, staring in part terror and part awe at the absolute monster hanging half hard between his legs. He doesn’t seem confused by my sudden need to put the brakes on, which makes me think he’s used to the reaction. “Do you need a permit to carry that thing around?”

He laughs,head going back, hands on his hips and he looks magnificent, regal, and proud. “You’re stroking my ego,” he says, fully amused as he looks back at me.

“You don’t need your ego stroked; you have a narrowboat in your pants!” When he laughs again, my lips twitch. “I’m serious, August.” I laugh nervously. “Us book girls can talk a good game with monster dicks and knots and whatnot, but in all honesty, four to six inches is perfectly lovely. Six to eight, great. Anything more than that is really quite unnecessary and getting into uncomfortable territory. That—” I gesture towards his cock.

“Is more than that,” he finishes for me.

“Considerablymore,” I agree.

He’s still looking at me like my genuine concern is amusing to him. His hand goes to his length and strokes slowly, leisurely, with a firm grip and a slight twist at the tip. “It’s okay,” he says softly, not like he’s touching himself for me to watch, which I do,avidly. “We don’t have to rush into anything, you know, if you’re scared—”

“Hey,” I bark, holding up an accusing finger. “I told you, I’m only scared of two things—”

“Right.” He smirks. “Spiders and public bathrooms.”

“Because of the—”

“Toilet snakes.”

“Exactly.” I nod seriously. “I will not be defeated by a…” I wave my hand at where he’s putting on a show for me.

“Say it,” he says with a smirk.

“A giant dick,” I say staring him dead in the eye.