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“P-pink,” I stammer.
He chuckles, his lips pressing on my shoulders. “Pink seems to be your color tonight.”
“I like…pink,” I confess, my head resting on his broad shoulder.
“I like you in pink,” he says, pulling the lacy bra cup under my breasts.
I freeze, feeling too exposed.
“I just want to feel you. Nothing more.” His breath caresses my skin, his touch reverent. “Is this pink too?” he asks, pinching my pebbled nipple.
Sweet Sugar! Do people talk like this?
“Tell me.” He pinches hard. “Or should I check for myself?”
“They are pink,” I rush. Thankfully, it’s dark. The only light is coming from the laptop screen, the forgotten movie still running.
“I’m already in love with them,” he says, giving my breast another squeeze. “God, you are fucking soft, beyond anything I imagined. Like cream and butter.”
He imagined me, us, like this?
His hands move behind me, and he swiftly unclasps my bra, faster than I’ve ever managed to. Grabbing the hem of my T-shirt, he drags it up in an attempt to remove it.
“Zander!”
“I want to touch you, feel your skin, and give you a taste of me. Nothing more, I promise,” he whispers reassuringly before removing my T-shirt and my already hanging bra. I try to cover my exposed chest with my arms, but his hands beat me to it, and he takes ahold of my breasts from behind again.
“No hiding from me, sweetheart.” His mouth moves lower on my back as he gives me a long lick from one shoulder to another, and I squirm under the touch of his hot lips.
His hands glide slowly from my sternum toward my stomach, and I shiver as his index finger makes circles over my belly button. His exploring hands travel further down, moving past the waistband of my shorts and skating over my panties. My brain’s in a crazy mixed state of fear and excitement.
I suck in a breath as his fingers gently pat my mound and send every nerve signal from my brain to the part of my body which, till today, was only acquainted with me.
“Is this also pink?” he asks, tugging my panties between his fingers. When I just hum, he whispers, biting my earlobe. “Is that a yes?”
“Hmm.” That’s all I can manage, and my inability to speak amuses him greatly.
After making several circles on the cotton covering my sex, he moves lower and sighs. “So wet, Marr.”
His fingers gently brush over the cotton, trying to collect the moisture. The friction ignites something unknown in me, and I moan. After bringing his hand close to his face, Zander inhales.
Ship! Did he just smell my…
“Your scent is breathtaking.” He groans.
Oh, my. He did.
His hand returns to the inside of my shorts, over my panties, and this time he rubs harshly. The action pushes the cotton into my wet folds, and all my nerve endings fire in response. I arch my back, and my hands go around his neck, my head resting on the hollow of his right shoulder. I pull him closer as he starts to make fast circles over my sex.
“Ah,” I cry.
“So responsive, Marr. I’m not even touching you.” His hoarse voice is foreign to me.
“Zander!”
“Yes couch girl, let it go. I can’t believe you can get off so easily. Fucking hell.”
When he pinches my cotton-covered clit, something unknown loosens within me. I scream so loud that he has to put his free hand on my mouth.
