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This could be everything.
Do I want it to be everything?
Do I—
His fingers curl into my side.
He pulls my body into his. Brings one hand to the back of my head.
I rise to my tiptoes to kiss him.
He still tastes so fucking good.
My lips part. His tongue slips into my mouth. It dances with mine, leading just enough.
I follow his steps.
We tumble to my bedroom.
He scoops me into his arms, carries me to the bed, lays me flat on the clean sheets.
He pulls his t-shirt over his head and drops it on the ground.
I reach around my back to undo the zipper of my dress.
There.
I lift my hips. Push the dress all the way to the floor.
Wes drops to the ground between my legs. “I’ve been waiting too fucking long for this.” He presses his lips to my inner thigh.
My sex clenches. My breath catches. My body screams Wes, Wes, Wes.
“Fuck, Quinn.” He mumbles a groan into my skin. Like he can’t get enough. Like this is everything he wants. Like he’s obsessed with making me come.
Maybe he is.
God, I…
I pinch myself.
Nothing.
I’m not dreaming.
I’m really here.
Wes is about to eat me out.
We might be more.
We might be—
Fuck.
It’s as terrifying as it’s exhilarating.
I try to push it aside. To focus on this moment. His fingertips on my skin. His breath on my thigh. His lips on my—
Fuck.
He tugs my panties to my knees then rolls them to my ankles.
I kick them off my feet. Reach around my back to unhook my bra. Fling it aside.
I’m wearing nothing but my wedges.
He’s between my legs. Staring up at me like I’m everything he wants.
I’ve died and gone to heaven.
I really have.
Wes pries my knees apart.
He pulls me to the edge of the bed. “Lie on your back, angel.”
“I want to look at you.”
He motions to the mirror opposite my bed.
Oh. It’s the perfect view. Him, in only his jeans, between my legs.
I lie back.
Let my arms fall to my sides.
Let my legs splay.
Wes presses his lips to my knees. “Might be intense.” He drags his lips up my thigh. “If it’s too much or if you don’t like something—”
“Okay.”
“Fuck, Quinn.” His fingers curl into my knees. He holds me in place. Pins me to the bed.
It’s different than usual.
Needier.
More possessive.
I never thought I’d like that.
But I do.
I really fucking do.
“You smell good.” He drags his lips higher. Higher. Higher.
I reach for something.
Find his shoulder.
His head.
My fingers curl into his hair.
He nips at the skin of my inner thigh. “You have no fucking idea how much I’ve been thinking about this.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
“You touch yourself to it?” I ask.
“All the time.”
“You fuck yourself to me?”
“Every fucking day.”
My body buzzes. He’s too sexy. It’s wrong, but it’s so right too.
“Do you?” He plants a kiss on my thigh.
“Do I?”
“Fuck yourself to me?” Need drips into his voice.
It’s hard to believe he wants me that badly.
But he does.
I look down at him. Run my fingers through his hair. “Yeah.”
“What do you think about?”
“Everything.”
“This?” he asks.
“Sometimes. But it’s… it’s more fuzzy. I don’t know what to imagine.”
His fingers brush my sex. It’s so soft I can barely feel it. Then it’s harder.
He teases me with one finger.
Then two.
“You fuck yourself like this?” He pushes his fingers deeper.
My eyelids press together.
God, that’s a lot.
It’s good.
But it’s still a hell of a lot.
“No.” My lips part with a groan. “Wes. Please.”
“Please, what?”
“Please make me come.”
“Fuck, you’re always so polite.”
“You like it?”
He takes my hand. Stands enough to bring my fingers to his cock.
He’s hard.
Those God damn jeans are in the way again.
But it’s still so fucking beautiful.
“May I make you come? After this? Please?” I ask.
“Fuck, Quinn.”
“Or we could… I want to fuck you.”
“Soon.”
My body whines. Not soon. Today. Now. I want everything, and I want it now. He makes me greedy, bossy, petulant even.
“Yeah.” He lowers himself to his knees. Looks up at me as he brings his lips to my inner thigh. “But not until I’m done with you.”
Holy shit.
His fingers dig into my tender skin.
Again, he pins my legs to the bed.
He plants a kiss on my inner thigh.
The top of my pelvis.
The spot just below my belly button.
My other inner thigh.
Slowly, he brings his mouth to me.
His tongue flits against my clit.
It’s so much.
He’s warm, wet, soft.
And he—
He does it again.
This soft, long stroke.
He holds me against the bed as he teases with those long, soft strokes.
His movements get harder.
Shorter.
He tries fast. Slow.
Back and forth.
Circles.
Zigzags.
He licks me up and down.
Tastes every fucking inch.
My eyelids press together.
My legs go slack.
My fingers dig into his hair.
I pull him closer.
He teases me with soft flicks of his tongue.
He moves up.
Down.
Right.
There—
“Don’t stop.” I hold his head in place.
My hips buck of their own accord.
I need more.
I need everything.
He’s so warm and wet and perfect.
And I need him working me like this.
I need him driving me to the edge.
