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She arches a brow, almost taunting me.
“Well?” she asks.
The shy girl I once knew is more capable of speech in this moment than I am. Petite souris, who knew you were so brave?
She takes a step toward me with a slight tremble, and suddenly I’m on her like I’ve just been let out of a cage. Tearing at my tuxedo jacket, my shirt, my bowtie—the seams are no match for my impatience, and Lainey helps. Her lips graze my chin as her fingers work on my pants, fumbling with the button. I feel her teeth and almost lose it. My groan sounds like a thousand years of yearning.
I kiss along the top of her shoulder, the shadowed space beneath her neck, the dip of her collarbone. Her breast fills my mouth and my hand covers the silk between her legs. She presses up onto her tiptoes as I tease her and I feel her nails at my neck, the sharp bite of them digging into my skin. She’s as crazed as I am. There’s no chance of a slow descent for us, a gentle discovery of each other’s body. I come to know her with a frenzy, like the opportunity might be stripped from me at any second.
Her skin burns my lips as I bend down further, my mouth passing over her taut stomach, kissing her navel. She quivers in a deliciously inviting way as my lips hit the top of her panties.
She rocks back on her heels, perhaps nervous, but then her hands are in my hair and she presses her body against me, granting me permission to take the silk in my teeth and tug them down. My fingers help loosen the material at her hips so that with one swift yank, they fall to her feet.
I’m adoring her on my knees, a beggar at her feet.
When I peer up, her big green eyes are rimmed with tears.
She doesn’t try to hide her emotion. We left pretense at the door. In this room, it’s all heart. I kiss her sensitive skin, just on the inside of her thigh.
Part your legs for me, Lainey.
Let me kiss you, here.
She isn’t shy about letting me know what she likes. She might not verbalize it, but her hands fist my hair when I run my tongue between her legs. She squirms and sighs and shakes. She rises onto her tiptoes and my hands grip her thighs and I hold her steady as my mouth stays on her, tasting and taking until I hear her start to whimper.
God, the sound.
I stare up at her as I continue, watching her eyes pinch shut and her mouth fall open. She jerks in my hands, but I don’t back off. I watch her come like I’m watching the sunrise over the ocean. A sight to behold. A sight I’ll chase forever.
When she opens her eyes again, there’s a fire burning in her gaze.
For the first time since we arrived at my house, I smile. It’s devious and wicked, and she responds by bending down and tearing at my dress shirt. It’s gaping since only half the buttons got undone earlier. She starts pushing it off my shoulders, impatiently undressing me. She wants me as naked as she is, the two of us on an even playing field. Or maybe she’s as curious as I am.
I’ve wondered about her body. In the shower, in my bed, at work—I’ve thought about these hidden parts of her, but my imagining didn’t do her justice. I wasn’t generous enough.
“Help,” she pleads.
I find her impatience cute, but she doesn’t.
I stand and work to undo the last few buttons, and then I fling my shirt onto the bench at the end of my bed. I push down my pants and manage to take one sock off before I pounce on her again, just a kiss, give me another kiss, please god.
She bites my lip in punishment.
“Finish,” she says, pushing my shoulders back.
Her skin is pink and marred. Her heavy breasts bear the evidence of my mouth.
I get distracted again and she groans and pushes me back, continuing until I hit the bench and then crawl back up and onto the bed.
It’s the opposite of that Italian pier, her up and on top of me, her body weighing me down. She yanks off my other sock and my boxer briefs.
Now she’s the one distracted. She’s the one with the gaping mouth.
Not so easy, is it, Lainey?
She can’t help but touch. Her small hand wraps around my length, and I tip my head back and close my eyes, savoring all that goodness.
It’s the hand I held in the car on the way home, the hand I worshipped, and now she’s returning the favor. She doesn’t understand how close I am to the edge. Her soft lips skating over my jaw is nearly too much. She works her hand up and down, and I give in to the pleasure of it for a few more strokes then I grip her hand and still her.
