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“You write normal, vanilla scenes?” he asks, arching an eyebrow.
“From time to time,” I retort to his mocking face. Somebody remind me why I want to have sex with him in the first place.
As if he can hear the thought, he immediately does the reminding by unbuttoning his shirt and sliding it over his shoulders. Right. That’s why. Because his body is insane.
And his eyes have the power to undo me as he watches my every move, silently observing as I peel off my leggings, then pull my sleeveless blouse over my head. Of course his eyes go directly to my breasts, still encased in a lacy bra.
“You can touch me.” I don’t know where that came from or who turned me so sassy, but I kind of like it. Maybe this is who I’ve been all along.
He erases the distance between us, stepping up to me, letting his fingers trail over my shoulders and down my arms before making the trip north, fingertips grazing my collarbone, then drifting down over the swells of my breasts.
I already feel myself weakening for him, melting. It takes absolutely nothing to make me crave him with all of me.
“Was it your hero doing the edging, or was he the one being edged?” While he speaks, he brushes the backs of his fingers over my nipples until they stand out against the lace. I’m already losing my breath, eyes drifting closed, every fiber of my being focused on his touch.
“He was the one doing it,” I breathe, gasping when he pinches both nipples.
“Is that what you want me to do to you tonight?” His voice is hypnotic, drawing me closer, deeper under his spell. “Do you want me to play with you and have you hanging on the edge over and over before you can come?”
Hearing him say it, there isn’t a doubt in my mind. “Yes. That’s what I want.”
“Just for research, though.” There’s faint laughter in his voice as he backs me against the bed, then gives me a gentle push so I fall backward.
He is so fast for somebody as big as he is. I hardly know what’s happening before he’s slid my thong over my hips, down my legs, finally dropping it onto the floor before he sinks to his knees between my thighs.
“In your book.” He props one foot over one shoulder, then repeats with the other. “Does he go down on her?”
Seeing how he looks knelt before me, even if my character hadn’t, I would lie and say he did. “He does.”
The scruff from his cheeks is like sandpaper against my skin, but I spread my legs wider anyway, inviting him to come closer. To keep going until he reaches the center of my heat.
When his face is barely an inch away, he purses his lips and blows a stream of warm air over my mound. “That’s nice,” I whisper, letting my head fall back, absorbing the feeling. After a while, it makes me squirm, but in a good way.
“And what about this?” Using his fingers, he spreads my lips and does it again, this time focusing directly on my clit.
Oh, that’s different. My breath catches and my back arches and I really, really want him to keep doing that. “Don’t stop,” I plead, moving my hips a little while my muscles already start pulsing.
“I won’t,” he promises before doing it again, making me pant as the tension builds, tightening my core, sending wetness running down my crack and soaking into the sheet.
“Yes, yes,” I frantically whisper, clawing at the sheets while my head rolls from side to side. “That is so good! It’s amazing!”
Which, of course, is when he stops.
And now I get it. Why this is so damn frustrating. “I was close!”
“This was what you wanted, wasn’t it?” He runs his fingers along my lips, gliding over the wetness coating them. It’s driving me absolutely bonkers. “This is what it’s all about. Starting and stopping. And then by the time you do come?”
He doesn’t have to continue. I understand, even if I don’t love lying here, gripped by frustration.
He starts again, and I’m consumed in concentrating on what he’s doing to my body. This time he uses his tongue, gently lapping at my folds, circling my clit until I’m a panting, pleading mess. “Don’t stop, please, don’t stop!” I beg, my whole body going tense and tight, my breath coming in short gasps.
When he does exactly the opposite of what I’m begging, I come pretty damn close to cursing him out. “Let me come!”
“Be patient,” he croons, placing soft kisses against my aching mound. He waits just long enough that I’m starting to breathe normally again before continuing the onslaught.
This time, he adds the presence of one, then two fingers, massaging me inside while massaging my clit with his tongue. “Fuck, yes!” I don’t even sound like myself anymore, gasping for breath, my body heaving. “Yes, Adrian! Yes!”
And this time he doesn’t stop. Thank God, he doesn’t stop. A tingling sensation begins, almost like I have to pee, but instinct tells me to go with it as it grows and spreads. The sound of his satisfied grunts makes everything better, more intense, more consuming. Heat blooms and expands through my body, something so extreme I bark out a broken sob. “Oh, holy fuck!” I shout.
