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The corners of my mouth tip up as my fingers trail down either side of her. Fingertips dip beneath the band of her panties and tease the flesh hidden beneath the cotton.
“Not teasing,” I say with a shake of my head. I drop a kiss on the center of her panties, over her mound. Hovering over the cotton, lips parted, I take slow, methodical breaths. Let her feel the heat of my breath, how close I am. “No, not teasing.” I tug her panties down an inch. “Foreplay, firecracker.”
She groans as I inch her panties down a little more. “More like torture.”
I chuckle. “But damn is it delicious.”
She opens her mouth to say something but snaps it shut when I lick the partially exposed area of her bare mound—something that surprised me on our first night.
Until Alessandra, I hadn’t been with a woman with no hair between her thighs. After the initial shock had faded, I’d licked from the bottom of her seam to the top of her mound. Soft and smooth and euphoric.
Her fingers in my hair loosen and tighten before she yanks me up again. “Braydon,” she pleas.
“God, I love my name on your tongue.”
I shouldn’t have said that.
“Know what else is great on tongues? Me on yours.”
Her blue irises darken, the midnight blue of the rim blanketing the cobalt. Need dilates her pupils as her chest rises and falls.
Eyes on hers, I curl my fingers under the band of her panties and slowly inch them down. Her lips part when I expose her fully. Rocking back on my haunches, I tug the cotton down her legs and toss them to the floor.
In the dim light of the room, my eyes roam every inch of her exposed flesh. Take in the sight of her as she waits for me to make the next move. The slight rise and fall of her breasts as her breaths grow heavier. How her fingers clench and flex in the comforter. And the soft whimper in her voice as I rise from the bed.
I bend down and pick up my jeans. She shoots up onto her elbows, eyes wide. When I remove my wallet from the back pocket and drop the denim, she falls back on the mattress. I take out the condom and drop the wallet. Shoving my briefs down, I step out of them and tear open the foil packet.
Her eyes heat as I roll the condom down my length. “I have condoms in the nightstand.”
I mentally freeze for a breath. The idea of Alessandra having a stock of condoms in her nightstand momentarily throws me off track. Though we dove into that drawer a few times six months ago, we were not the same people then. What we were doing was obvious. One night of sex and nothing more.
But tonight is different. Tonight makesusdifferent. Not in the sense that we will be more than this. More than sex. The fact that we hooked up and neither of us was bothered by the lack of information exchange is answer enough. Neither of us expects more. Still, the drawer of condoms bothers the irrational side of me. The side that thinks of her beyond sex.
Maybe the box is new. Maybe she bought them on a whim. Maybe she was hopeful when I walked into the shop.
Whatever the reason, I need to forget it. Live in the here and now. In the moment, with her.
“Good,” I say as my knee hits the mattress. I crawl my way up her body, kissing up her breastbone, the column of her throat. “We’ll need more.”
My lips crash down on hers as I bracket her head with my forearms. Nails scratch down my back and dig into the muscles of my ass as I glide my cock over the seam of her wet pussy. I snake an arm around her waist and, on the next rock of my hips, press my tip inside. She rocks her hips in a silent plea for me to give her more.
But damn, how I love it when she begs.
I rear back and out of her. She whimpers, her nails sinking deeper into my flesh. As her lips part to beg me for more, I rock forward and fill her fully.
So. Fucking. Tight.
One hand in her hair and the other at her hip, I bruise her body with my touch. Crush her lips with mine. And then I move. Each stroke of my cock is deliberate and meticulous. Weighted and thick. I break the kiss and hover above her. Watch her eyes roll back and jaw fall slack as I drive forward a little faster. Memorize this moment—this tiny blip of time where she belongs to only me—and store it in a safe place.
Nails claw up my back and I hiss. “Trying to mark me, firecracker?”
She wraps her legs around my waist and locks her ankles. Grabs hold of my hair and fists the strands. Tips my head to the side, sinking her teeth into my shoulder. It’s borderline painful and only serves to push me harder. Faster.
Releasing my shoulder, she runs her tongue over the indentations. Licks her way up my neck, clamping down on my earlobe. “If I want to mark you, I will.”
I growl and tighten my hold on her.
“Now…” She licks the shell of my ear. “Fuck me like you mean it.”
