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CHAPTER FIVE
Breaking our kiss,he slides behind me and straddles my body with his long legs. Slowly, both hands come around me and start to veer toward my chest. I almost want to scream again, but more so, I don’t want it to stop. I want to feel his hands on every inch of me, hair and imperfections be damned. I can feel his gaze above my head as his fingers toy with the neck of my shirt. Under his sights like this—where I can’t see him—I feel comfortable and ready for whatever he may do.
When one hand finally breaks the puny barrier of my shirt, a shaky breath leaves me, and he groans behind me. He scoots closer, pressing my back to his front. “Do you believe me yet?” he whispers in my ear as his other hand enters my shirt. “Can you feel what you’re doing to me?”
As if his words weren’t enough, he thrusts his hips lightly, letting his hard cock push into my lower back. “Mmmm.”
Another groan bubbles in his throat. “I like hearing you, sweet girl.”
Laying my head back, I give him better access to my chest, doing exactly what he said and turning my mind off. His hands slide under my bra and cup the only decent asset I have. I can feel every ridge in his palms as he kneads my flesh with calculation. He takes his time, only moving to my nipples when I shift my position, trying to get closer even though there isn’t any space left between us.
His fingers dance around my areola, swiping the delicate skin lightly over and over, sending my nipples into hard peaks, aching for him to touch them too. “Tell me what to do,” he growls from behind me.
I almost cringe at the thought of saying what I want out loud, but my horniness and want outweighs it. “Touch my nipples.”
“Address me correctly, and I will.”
Sucking in a breath, I remember what he said before we started. “Please touch my nipples, Mr. Taylor.” Doing as I asked, he grips each one between his pointers and thumbs, rolling the soft buds between them. I let out another moan. “Mmmm.”
“You like that?” he asks, peppering light kisses along the back of my shoulder.
I nod and move my hands to his knees. Running my hands up, I dig my thumbs into the inside of his thighs clamped around me. I feel the need to touch him like he’s touching me, but our position limits me. I try to turn so I can grip his cock through his pants, but he stops me.
“Not yet. This is about you, sweet girl.” I melt at his words and let my body relax and slouch into him.
Removing his hands, he slides them down my sides until he grips the bottom of my shirt. He rolls the fabric up unhurried, revealing my stretch mark–covered stomach bit by bit. For a moment, I hate myself because there is no excuse for my weight gain or unhealthy habits. I made myself like this. But with his tanned hands against my pale skin, I finally see some beauty.
His fingers trace the narrow, indented streaks as he continues to raise my shirt. Once it’s balled up around my boobs, he moves his hands back down. “Beautiful,” he whispers in my ear, running his pointer from the top of one line starting in the center of my stomach down to the bottom of it right above my pants.
I watch as he traces each one lightly, almost like he’s appreciating the crooked groove each one takes. Up and down, his fingers run over my stomach, over every roll and every ridge. Goose bumps chase his fingers, breaking out the moment his skin glides across mine, and it takes my breath away.
“I want to kiss every imperfection on your skin and show you how beautiful they really are.”
Before I can reply, he moves. Bending his knees, he pushes himself backward, then circles around me. With him in front of me, with his eyes full of lust and want, my heartbeat kicks into overdrive. Gently, he grips my shoulders before laying me back. This is something straight out of a fantasy minus the numerous dildos surrounding me like some kinky snow angel.
I watch him over me, completely enthralled by the sight. The veins in his arms throb as he moves to retrieve something from his pocket. When his hand comes back into sight, he’s holding the blindfold he purchased the first night I saw him.
He slips it over my eyes gently, making sure the band is secured around my head, then moves again. First, he plants a light kiss on the side of my face, and then he moves to my neck. His tongue whips out and swirls along my skin before moving to my ear. When he clamps his teeth around my lobe, I wince, but the pain is quickly depleted when he rises and blows. His warm breath trickles into my pores, sending more heat to my core if that’s even possible.
His nose skims the outline of my jaw as he breathes in. “So sweet.”
My body starts to shake with anticipation, but something tells me he’s only getting started.
I squeeze my thighs around him, wanting him closer and frustrated that our clothes are still separating us. “I want you, Mr. Taylor,” I pant.
“In time, sweet girl. Just enjoy the ride,” he whispers, planting his lips back to my throat.
He kisses and sucks, making his way down my body. When he’s back at my chest, he lifts my bra, releasing my boobs. He grips them in his big hands before lowering his head and clamping his mouth around my nipple. His teeth dig into my skin as his tongue lashes against my bud.
Popping one from his mouth, he moves to the other and repeats the motion. Between the squeezing with his hands and the sucking, along with not being able to see, I feel like I’m going to explode. Normally, with any man I’ve been with, there has been no buildup. It’s only ever a few small touches before diving right in. I didn’t mind, really, because it all felt good nonetheless, but Reed is showing me exactly how he’s different—how he’s a real man.
Letting my nipple fall from his mouth, he moves even lower. Trailing his tongue down a single stretch mark, he grips my love handles. “I love having something to hold while I taste you.” He sighs like he’s doing his best to keep himself together.
“I’m glad one of us enjoys my body,” I mumble, mad that even in the moment my mind can’t seem to shut up about how much I dislike myself.
His mouth leaves me for a split second. “Every inch of you,” he starts, his voice pouring into my ears as he works his way back up my body with his mouth, “is perfect.”
I squeeze my eyes shut tighter even though the blindfold is already doing a good job at shielding my vision while keeping my mouth shut. I don’t want to ruin this—I don’t want it to stop—but my mind can’t seem to get the fucking memo my body is sending.
