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The front of his body molds against my spine, and his arousal is scorching hot through our clothes. A throb starts between my legs. When his breath warms my nape, I shudder and press back. His hands stroke down my arms, then slip around my waist.
“I want to taste you,” he says in my ear, and oh God, that makes me ache with need.
I’ve wanted him ever since I first saw him, that day at his apartment. I can try to fight it, try to convince myself it isn’t true. It’s no use.
He prods me forward, until I place my hands on the backrest of the leather couch and bend over. “What are you doing?” I whisper, breathless.
He lifts my skirt and runs his hands over my ass, stroking along the thin strip of my lacy thong. “Damn, you’re beautiful.” His voice is hoarse, and a tremor goes through me. “Spread your legs for me.”
I swallow hard, my mouth gone dry. “Zane…”
He nudges them apart with his knee and pushes me down more, so that I’m completely bent over the sofa. Not sure I like where this is going, I start to straighten—when he grabs my thong and pulls it up, so that it rubs over my throbbing seam.
I moan, the sensation going through my veins like lightning.
And before I recover my senses, he pulls my panties down, spreads me open with is fingers, and puts his mouth on me. Fire lashes through me as he licks me in sure, long strokes.
Something hard presses into me—his tongue piercing, my foggy mind informs me—and it sends lightning up my spine. His fingers move over me, touching my clit, pressing, and he never stops. His full lips press against me as his tongue drives deeper, spearing into me.
I cry out, lost to sensation. My legs tremble, my knees buckle, but he manages to catch me and support me. His stubble scratches my inner thighs, and his rough tongue burns me, the velvety softness of his lips a contrast that drives me crazy.
I’m going to come. It’s starting, I feel it deep inside me, the pressure mounting, cresting. As if sensing it, he rubs his fingers harder on my clit, and his tongue thrusts deeper. I clench hard and cry out again, sobbing his name as I come against his mouth. The waves of pleasure roll over me, drowning me. They go on and on as his mouth keeps eating me, tasting me.
He finally pulls back. Panting, I slide down to the floor, and he catches me, lowering me gently until I’m back in his arms, in his lap, held securely.
“You taste amazing,” he says in my ear, and his erection is harder than ever, pressed against my back. “Like strawberries and cream.”
“Oh my God,” I whisper. My body twitches with aftershocks. My eyelids feel heavy. I’ve never come like this before.
He nuzzles my neck. “I want you, Dakota.”
You have me, I want to say, but I just moan instead.
“Need to fuck you,” he says, and his hands move up to my breasts, cupping them. “Right now, right here.”
My body burns at the thought of him entering me. “Oh God, yes.”
He groans and pulls back.
Want to see him, want to watch every detail of his body revealed, but he won’t let me turn, keeping a hand on my shoulder. I hear him toss off his T-shirt, then his zipper opening, and finally the sound of foil being ripped.
Both his hands are now back on my body, stroking up my ribs, massaging my breasts through my blouse, turning my nipples into hard pebbles. My head falls back as the sensations overwhelm me. I’ve never been touched like this before, without seeing the person doing this to me, and although I can picture Zane’s face perfectly in my mind, it’s not the same.
It’s as if my senses have sharpened, throwing every touch into sharp relief. His fingers drag under me, opening me up, and bolts of pleasure shoot through me.
Oh God. “Need you,” I whisper, unable to take this any longer, shaken that I really do need him, like no one ever before. “Please, Zane.”
“Are you ready for me?” he growls in my ear. His broad chest is pressed to my back so that I can feel his muscles shift against me. His fingers push inside me, stroking me, and I’m going to fall apart again soon. Too soon.
“Zane…” I start to twist around, but his other hand grips my hip in a steel vise. His fingers slip out of me.
“Stop,” he grunts. I can hear his ragged breathing at my back.
I freeze. “I want to see you.”
“No.” His breathing is irregular, fast. “Fuck… I need to do this my way. It’s this way or not at all. Do you understand?”
What’s going on? It’s hard to think when his hand moves between my legs again, teasing me. I want to tell him to stop, but my brain is shutting down, giving itself over to pleasure.
