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“We don’t have to do anything.”
“I want to.” She looks down at the floor. My eyes follow her stare, and I watch as she steps out of her heels. It’s on the tip of my tongue to tell her to leave them, but this is her show. I’m just the extra. The man who is desperate for time with her, to feel her skin against mine, to feel her heat wrapped around me. “I’m just going to need some help.”
I look up to find those big blue eyes of hers watching me intently. My legs move on their own as they carry me to her. With my eyes roaming over her body, I take her in, memorizing that little black dress. There is nothing special about it—I’ve seen the same version on hundreds of women in my lifetime—but on her, on my dream girl, it’s the sexiest fucking thing I’ve ever seen.
When we’re toe to toe, I reach for the hem of my shirt, pulling it over my head and dropping it to the floor. Her breath hitches. The sound is blaring through the silence of the room. I repeat the process with my jeans, tugging them over my thighs and kicking them to the side. That leaves me standing before her in nothing but my boxer briefs that do nothing to hide my desire for her.
“My turn?” she asks. There’s a wobble in her voice, but the firm set of her shoulders tells me that although she’s nervous, she’s in this. We’re in this. Here. Together.
“I want to see you.”
She nods and turns, giving me her back, moving her long dark locks to hang over one shoulder. “Unzip me?”
“My pleasure,” I say. My voice is confident, but the tremble in my hands as I grasp her zipper and slowly pull until it reaches the small of her back tells another story.
I stand still as I watch her pull the dress from one shoulder then the other. She shimmies her hips and lets it fall to the floor, pooling at her feet. Black lace is all that’s left covering her, and my cock twitches. With my index finger, I trace from one shoulder to the other, feeling her soft skin.
With a shudder, she slowly turns to face me. Blue eyes full of desire find mine. I cradle her face with my hands, staring at her intently, hoping she can see into the depths of my soul how much I want her. I don’t mask the need that I have for her or the surprise that it’s there. I’ve never in my life felt like this.
“Can I kiss you?”
“You better,” she replies, and if she was going to say anything else, it’s too late because my lips are on hers.
Her hands wrap around my waist, and I drop my hands, doing the same, needing her closer. My tongue strokes against hers, the taste of her exploding on my tongue. “So sweet,” I murmur. I’ve never kissed someone as sweet as her, and her skin, it’s so damn soft. I softly trace her back until I reach her bra strap. “May I?” I ask against her lips.
“Hurry,” she says breathlessly.
And that’s all the go-ahead I need.
I make quick work of the clasp and step back, pulling the small scrap of lace from her body. Her tits, more than a handful, are staring at me, her hard nipples, begging for my mouth. Not able to wait, I bend my head, sucking one into my mouth, making her moan from somewhere deep in her throat. As her nails dig into my shoulders, I take my time going from one breast to the other, lavishing them with equal attention, before dropping to my knees.
I kiss her belly and down until I reach the waistband of her thong. Gripping the material on one side, I tug, the sound of ripping fabric fills the room, and an audible gasp comes from the beauty standing before me. “Fuck,” I murmur as I lean in and trace my tongue between her folds.
“Oh,” she gasps, her hands finding their way to my hair.
When her legs start to tremble, I know it’s time to move this to the bed. It’s a struggle to pull myself to my feet. “Bed,” I say huskily.
She moves to take a step and stumbles. I don’t hesitate to bend and lift her into my arms. She yelps out her surprise but wraps her arms around my neck. In a few long strides, I’m laying her gently on the bed, stripping out of my boxer briefs, and reaching for my jeans. I fumble with them until I find my wallet and pull out my one and only condom. One. “Fuck,” I mutter. Once will never be enough with her.
“My purse,” she murmurs, her voice thick. “I have some in my purse.”
