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He straightens in the doorway, gaze flicking between my naked breasts and my face, his mouth going slack, before he drags his hand over his beard.
I wait for him to say something. He doesn’t.
Holding his stare, I slip my thumbs into my panties and slide them down my thighs. This isn’t the first time he’s seen me naked, but it’s the first time I’ve felt bared. Vulnerable.
“Take off your shirt,” I whisper into the quiet room. This could either go really, really well or really, really bad.
He stills, frowns. And for an awful second, I think he’s going to refuse, but then, so slowly I think my heart’s about to pound out of my chest, he shrugs his shirt off, the lines of his biceps, the corded muscles of his forearms revealed as he lets it drop in a pile to the floor.
Emboldened by his cooperation, I cross the room and sink to my knees in front of him.
He freezes, unease ripping over his body when I glance up at him. “Shoes.”
He lifts his foot and lets me slide first one, then the other shoe off, followed by his socks.
I get to my feet, standing so close my nipples tickle against the smooth skin of his chest.
His jaw ticks as he scans my face, some of his unease releasing from his shoulders now that I’m no longer eye level with his crotch.
I take a breath, smooth my hands up his chest and lift onto my toes. “Get out of your head.” I lean in and suck his lower lip. Drop back down off my toes and kiss just below his ear, his collarbone, the dip at the base of his throat. Slide my hands down his stomach and push his pants and boxers down his thighs until they slide down his legs.
His whole body bristles, his cock hot and hard against my belly. I don’t take my eyes off his face even though the temptation to see him—all of him—is almost all-consuming. “Kiss me.”
His gaze flicks down to my mouth and stays there. I can practically see the cogs turning. He’s weighing up what he considers to be right and wrong. His tongue slips across his bottom lip and then his hands are cupping my jaw, tilting my face up to his. “This is really what you want?”
“Yes.” It’s a whisper. It’s a demand. Aplea.
His kiss drags a moan from my lips, his tongue pushes against mine. Every lick, every suck shooting through every single nerve ending in my body. I press against him, his hardness trapped between us until he releases my face, grips my hips, and lifts me.
Definitelywhat I want.
I wrap my legs around his waist, grip with my knees and push myself further up his massive body, sinking my fingers into his hair and kissing him with everything I have. It isn’t pretty. It’s desperate and rough and filled with the need—the frustration of every time he pushed me away.
Itisn’tpretty—but it’s perfect.
His hands on my ass, his fingers digging in, each step he takes towards the bed sliding the length of him against my sex. It bumps over my clit. I whimper against his open mouth, breathe in his air, jerk against solid body.
And then he turns. Sits. My knees hit the bed either side of his thighs and he grips my jaw, licks into my mouth in one of the dirtiest kisses we’ve shared. A kiss that has my belly clenching and the base of my skull buzzing. A kiss that’s all him.The real him.
I break it on a pant and meet his gaze straight on. “I’m clean.”
He clears his throat and the haze clears from his face a little as he registers what I’m saying. “Me too.”
I hold his stare and reach between us to wrap my fingers around him. Press my forehead against his and lower myself down, my heartbeat thumping so hard my hands shake, a tiny part of me still waiting for him to stop this. To push me away again.
He doesn’t.
The touch of the slick round end of his cock has me panting out my breath, the stretch of the first inch of him pushing into me, my eyes almost rolling.
“Fuck, you feel good.” His moan is almost pained, his grip bruising in the best possible way.
I press down a little more. He’s thick, so thick. Maybetoothick. I lick my dry lips and keep my stare on his face.
His lips are parted, his eyes heavy-lidded, chest lifting and falling, his hand still cupping my jaw.
I shift down again, and he grunts, deep and rough, and so fucking sexy I can’t help but push down again, taking him deep—taking all of him—so deep my clit presses tight against his lower abs, and I’m so full I have to remind myself to breathe.
“Fuck, Kenzi.” His free arm wraps my waist, pulling me closer, adjusting the angle so he can push in even further, forehead still pressed to my forehead, mouth still hovering over my mouth, open, panting. As lost in the moment as I am.
