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Her nakedness is just as thrilling as it was this morning. I cannot get enough.
I glide a hand over her thigh, then hook her leg over my hip. Spread her wide so I can reach down and glide my first two fingers between the lips of her pussy.
She is soaking wet and soft.
“Sweetheart. Fuck.” I press both fingertips against her clit.
Her hand fists in my hair. “I must’ve dreamt about you.”
I laugh against her mouth before kissing her, hard. “What was I doing in your dream?”
“Exactly what you’re doing now.”
“Let me give you something else to dream about, then.” I withdraw my fingers. Stop to swirl her wetness on her right nipple, making her hiss. “I’m going to show you how good it feels when you come while I’m inside you.”
Her eyes fly open. Sharp with curiosity. “I’m listening.”
“It’s easiest with you on top. But that can also feel really full for you—”
“I can handle it.” She arches her back so her stomach glides up my swollen length. “I want to try, anyway.”
I want.
I can never say no to this girl, especially when she’s so upfront. Unafraid.
This is too easy.
Too fucking good.
Ignoring the warning bells going off in my head, I suck on her bottom lip. Then I roll onto my back and take her with me, helping her sit upright and straddle my hips. The sheets fall away. The thick amber light catches on her shoulders and breasts, turning her skin to bronze. Her hair is everywhere. In her eyes and down her back.
Speaking of her eyes. They’re black in the fading light, and happy.
It’s a punch to the gut. I slowly run my hands up her sides, trying to memorize exactly how she looks in this moment. When I cup her breast, she bites her lip and grins, grabbing that hand in both of hers and bringing it to her lips. Kissing my fingertips.
My heart knocks around my ribcage. My lungs aren’t working.
My dick is painfully hard.
“You all right?” she asks.
I move my free hand to her pussy and roll my thumb over her clit. Her eyes go a little hazy. “I’ll be okay. You’re going to take me in your hand and rise up on your knees a little. Then you line me up—”
But in true Greer style, she’s already a step ahead. She’s on her knees. She’s wrapping her fingers around me. Rolling her thumb over my leaking head. Need coils so tightly between my legs I have to bite my cheek to keep from coming in her hand.
Then she’s using that hand to draw me closer to her pussy. She touches my head to her clit.
Heaven.
Feeling her raw, slick heat against my bare skin is heaven. I want so badly to sink inside her right now, nothing between us, that I shake with the effort not to jerk my hips upward and impale her on my dick.
Claim her in some caveman way.
There’d be no going back after that. I always use protection. Condoms aren’t my favorite thing, but I’ve never hated them enough—liked someone enough—to not want to use them.
Not using one with Greer would mean something.
It would also risk getting her pregnant.
Why am I thinking about Greer pregnant? She’s twenty-three, for God’s sake. I’m the first guy she’s had sex with. Sure, I could take care of her if it happened. Take care of us. But the idea is still messed up on so many levels.
And yet the desire pours through me. I want to be the first guy she fucks, and the only one she fucks raw.
I close my eyes and take a deep breath through my nose in an attempt to gather myself. I’m continually blindsided by the possessiveness I feel for this girl. No matter how many times I remind myself she doesn’t fucking belong to me, I can’t kick the need for more. For all of her. I want everything.
She draws my head down her slit. Back up again. My head—the one on my shoulders—feels like it’s about to explode.
Shaping her waist with my hands, I grit my teeth. “You gotta get on some birth control, sweetheart.”
My eyes are still closed, but I feel Greer pause, absorbing what I just said. I basically admitted to wanting to have sex with her without a condom. Which would mean waiting for her to get on birth control. Which could take weeks, months even.
Which means I still want to be having sex with her then. Which means—
I don’t know.
But I do know I can’t risk knocking up George’s baby sister the second time she has sex.
“I will,” she says.
My heart is pounding. Luckily I threw some condoms in the top drawer of the bedside table this morning. I absolutely can’t touch her again, but just in case, I’d told myself.
And now here we are.
