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It’s not flattering to the form, but it was sort of a symbolic thing more than anything. I was going to be wearing it as I told him I was moving to Tomahawk…back when I thought I’d be brazen enough to pull that off.
His lips curve in a slow grin, and he lifts me off the counter.
After dropping me to my feet rather abruptly, much to my surprise, he spins me, and his hand shoves at my back, forcing me to bend over the counter.
His body presses against mine from behind, his hand reaching between us to start undoing his jeans. His knuckles brush my ass, and I track his progress by sound and touch, as my heart beats loudly in my ears.
It doesn’t take much for him to turn me on. Maybe because I’ve spent a month fantasizing about scenarios similar to this and now it’s coming true.
His lips brush my ear, and his voice is gruff when he says, “I’ve spent a lot of time feeling like shit for not realizing all the times you wanted me to touch you,” he says quietly as he pulls my hair to the side, his fingers skating across the back of my neck.
My breaths grow shallow and shaky, because this is even better than my fantasies, and we haven’t even done anything yet. I forgot what sort of reactions he can elicit with minimal touch and just the exciting build-up of anticipation.
Well, I didn’t forget it; I just assumed I was romanticizing our bottled-up chemistry to the extreme.
Nope.
It’s just extreme.
“Then you go and tell me you’ll stay for as long as I want you,” he murmurs, the sound of his jeans clapping the floor resonating behind me. Another chill wracks my body. “I hope you make good on that promise.”
He pulls a condom up that I see from the corner of my eye, and he tears open the wrapper using his teeth.
“I-I will,” I stammer, unable to really think much, let alone form words and stuff.
Once he’s finished that task, I feel his knuckles brush my ass through the flag material again, and I tremble once more.
His arm circles my waist, and his lips get so close to my ear I can feel the heated tickle of his breath when he speaks again.
“I don’t think you know what you’ve signed on for yet, but I’m going to make it fucking worth it,” he says as his lips brush my ear.
The flag dress gets shoved up on my hips, and he gently kicks my legs wider apart in a quick, almost startling way that ratchets up all that anticipation that much more.
His fingers drag down my pelvis until they tease me where my body really doesn’t deserve to be teased, skating just close enough to pry a whimper out of me.
He groans as his forehead presses against the crown of my head, his grip tightening and loosening over and over, as he slowly pulls his hand down.
“You really fucking want me,” he notes.
I blush, because it’s embarrassing how ready I am just from the kissing and mostly innocent petting.
I feel the tip of him bump against me. It’s the only warning I get before he thrusts in and buries himself deep inside me. He glides in so easily, stretching me, feeling like everything I wanted to feel just from one single stroke.
It’d be really embarrassing if I had a premature orgasm after all that build-up.
I’m not sure what sound I make, because my body is too busy enjoying the feel of his and drinking in the guttural sound he makes. He shudders behind me, his grip tightening again on my hip as he keeps his head pressed to mine.
“You’re mine now,” he says like it’s both a sweet warning and a delicate promise.
He cups my chin, turning my head as his lips find mine, and he starts a slow, agonizing rhythm.
My hand slides over his that’s on my hip, and my fingers lace over the tops of his, digging in as well, needing something to grab onto. My other arm stretches behind me to loop around his neck so I can deepen the kiss.
His hand drops from my chin, snaking around my waist until his fingers find the one spot that sends my body spiraling toward that edge with lightning-quick speed.
His hips clap against my ass when he gets more aggressive, and he breaks the kiss, forcing me farther down on the counter.
In the next instant, I’m crying out, because it’s all too much and it’s been too long, and it feels so much better than I remembered. I forgot how connected we are like this.
It’s why he pulled back.
It’s why I pulled back.
It’s almost overwhelming now, whereas it was a smaller flame when I left.
It’s explosive when the orgasm crashes through my body with very little mercy, wringing out each and every sensation it can dig up. My knees go out, but he keeps me up.
