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His tongue slips into my mouth, the slide practiced and sensual. My hips lift, desperately trying to relieve the building pressure. The only sound I can hear is my heavy breathing, the desperate pull of oxygen loud and desperate.
Oliver’s hand slides across my stomach, deftly unbuttoning and unzipping my jeans. Anticipation arcs through me as the pulse between my legs becomes more insistent.
I’m about to have sex with my husband, I realize.
There are too many emotions associated with that statement that I’m too overwhelmed to name, so I just close my eyes andfeel.
Denim is tugged away efficiently, cool air caressing my bare skin as my jeans get tossed to the floor. I sit up and pull off my t-shirt, sitting on my bed in just a bra and underwear.
At least I chose a lacy, matching set this morning. I didn’t want Oliver to think I made an effort, but I wanted to feel good today. When I got dressed this morning, I didn’t think he’d see me like this.
The only light in here is what’s spilling in from the hallway. I only catch a quick glimpse of Oliver’s shadowed expression before his head ducks, teeth grazing my nipple through the lace of my bra.
I gasp, my back arching and my chest lifting like an offering as the inferno inside me sparks.
“Fuck, Hannah.”
He sounds tortured. Overwhelmed. Wild.
“Fuckme,” I tell him.
Oliver chuckles, the sound dark and decadent. It slides across my skin like a hint of smoke or a drop of whiskey.
I lift my pelvis, seeking out more contact. Begging without the words. My fingers dig into his shoulders, feeling the muscles bunch beneath my touch. His tongue is tracing circles on my chest, and my entire body thrums with each lick.
“Please.”
His hand slides up my bare leg, setting my nerves off in a frenzy. The texture of his skin running over mine and the rub against his suit is too much—and not enough.
“Please, Oliver.”
He rolls away, and for one horrible second, I think it was all a tease. That he was wondering how much I wanted him, and just got his answer. But then I hear the rustle of fabric and the crinkle of a wrapper, and I realize what’s happening. I reach behind and unsnap the band of my bra, letting the heavy weight of my breasts fall free.
Then Oliver’s hand is there, managing to make the discomfort better and worse as he rubs my nipple into a hard point. His other hand takes a slow journey down my chest and stomach until it’s between my legs, tugging off my underwear and leaving me totally naked.
I feel himthere, sparks of electricity racing through me as the head of his cock grazes my clit before he pushes inside of me. It’s a relief to feel the length of him filling me. And a stretch to accommodate his size. He presses deeper and deeper, until I’m certain I can’t take any more. When he withdraws, there’s an immediate ache as I clench around nothing. And then he’s spreading me again, inciting a delicious ache.
“Faster.” I breathe the word, my hands moving lower, fingernails scraping his back. I needmore.
I’m stripped down to the basest of instincts. Nothing but need. Right now, none of what got us here matters. It just matters that we’re here. That the thick drag of Oliver’s dick is pushing me higher and higher, a perfect pressure that will end in euphoria. I can feel it building in my center, the heat and pleasure so close I could cry. I angle my hips, desperately trying to take him deeper. To climb the peak faster.
“You’re so tight. So wet.” He murmurs the words right next to my ear, low and gruff, and my breathing becomes so fast that it’s embarrassing. “Feel so fucking good.”
I clench my inner muscles, smiling when he groans.
A heady rush of power courses through me, mixing with the lust and the desperation.
I love that I’m affecting him. That he’sadmittingI affect him.
“You take me so well. Even better than I imagined.” His tone is low and uneven, a rasp that warms my skin like the lick of a flame and washes over me in waves of arousal.
He’s thought about this.
It feels like this moment has been building ever since I heard his voice in that bar. I remember how it felt when he looked over at me, the rush that accompanied his attention. How it amplified to an almost unbearable intensity, reverberating throughout my entire body.
He’s possessing me in a way I’ve never experienced. I usually guide guys during sex, telling them what I like and what I want. Some get off on it, some get offended by it, but none of them have escaped it.
Except Oliver. Since he kissed me, I’ve barely managed more than moans.
