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He arched an eyebrow. “Eager?”
“Should I not be?” I asked, utterly wanton.
“I’ve been waiting for this. I plan to indulge in every inch of you.”
I flushed all over at those words. “Oh, well then, be my guest.”
He hooked a finger under the material of my dress and slid it over my nipple. My head fell backward at the rush of sensation. I made a noise of delight and then his finger disappeared.
My eyes cracked open. “What?”
But he tipped his hands under the straps of my dress. They fell off my shoulders, and I slipped my arms out of them. He popped the clasp on my strapless bra, letting my breasts spill forward from their enclosure.
His face was one of awe.
“Remember when you were trying on dresses for me?” he asked as he began to kiss his way down the front of my cleavage. His hands moving to cup my breasts.
“Ye-yes.”
“That was torture.”
“It was?”
“Pure torture,” he said as he flicked his tongue against a nipple. “I owe you some torture for that.”
“Oh,” I said softly and then inhaled sharply as he dragged the entire nipple into his mouth.
He sucked it in and then bit teasingly on it, all while his fingers worked the other nipple to a peak. I practically lost consciousness as he flicked and bit and licked at my breasts. I’d had guys ogle them. I’d had them appreciate how full and perky they were. I had never had anyone worship them.
My legs gripped his hips so hard, begging for friction. I was soaking wet already. Was it possible to orgasm from him teasing my nipples?
“Please,” I gasped.
His kisses stalled as he looked up at me with that grin on his face that said he knew exactly what he was doing. Then, he went back to caressing my breasts. He was not oblivious to my pants and demands. He was determined to torture me like this. Even though it sent a thrill through me to know he’d been this affected by my dresses.
Suddenly, his kisses moved south. I went rigid as his mouth went from my skin back down to the material of the dress. His hands bunched up the skirt of the dress so he could drag his hands up my inner thighs, stopping just short of where I was so desperate for him.
“Should I torture you some more?” he teased.
“West,” I groaned.
A finger tracked down the middle of my lace underwear. I jumped at the contact.
He just grinned, shooting me that hidden dimple. “As I expected. You’re so wet.”
I blushed at the words, but his head had already disappeared beneath my skirts. And then his mouth was on my underwear, right over my opening. He didn’t move the material out of the way; he just breathed hot air against it.
“Oh fuck.”
He did it again and again. I writhed underneath him, desperate for release. How was I this close? How? It shouldn’t have been possible. And yet my core was pulsing as everything built up and up and up.
When he hooked my thong and dragged it down my legs, I could barely contain myself.
“How close are you?” he asked as he slicked a finger through my folds, coating it with my wetness.
“Close.”
He circled my clit.
“So close.”
His mouth replaced his finger, sucking on my clit. My head hit the tiles of the kitchen wall with a soft crack.
“Oh my God,” I gasped.
He followed the gentle licking with two fingers thrusting deep inside of me. And I saw stars. He didn’t even have to move. He’d worked me up so much that the first few strums against my clit caused me to come undone.
I cried out in incoherent sputters. Time had disappeared as the orgasm racked my body. It was a minute later when everything finally stopped shuddering and the earthquake in my body settled.
West was watching me with delight on his face. “I barely touched you.”
I laughed softly. “That’s what you call barely touching me?”
He withdrew his fingers and helped me off the countertop and onto wobbly legs. My knees buckled underneath me. He caught me easily and swept me up into his arms. I tried to protest, but he was already heading down the hallway toward his room.
