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“And I know this is unconventional,” he murmurs. “I could have done things the normal way, but that’s never been the way I do it. I’m sorry I scared you, but I’m not sorry I did this. Not when I’ve been dying to touch you for days.”
Dammit. He’s doing something to me, something bad. He’s making me wish he would do more than just touch me. What is wrong with me that it’s so easy for him to manipulate me this way? Do I even care? How can I? When I erupt in goose bumps every time his mouth skims my earlobe? I close my eyes and shiver involuntarily—and again when the hand he used to cover my mouth now slides over my throat. His touch is as light as a feather, and a soft sigh eases its way from between my parted lips.
I must be out of my mind, the way he so clearly is. Does it matter right now? Because every part of me—other than my brain—is screaming for more. There I was, thinking nobody would ever touch me again the way he did.
Now I have him here, and he is touching me gently, making me want to scream and beg for more, and he’s hardly done anything at all.
“This is all I wanted. You. The excuse to touch you. Please, don’t punish me for that.” He presses his lips to my neck, and my back arches.
It shouldn’t be like this. There’s no reason it should be like this.
But I can’t help it. Even though I know it’s wrong—that I should kick him in the balls and call the police—I want him. I crave him. How is that possible when I’ve only been with him once? Is it because he was the only one?
Or was he the only one because somehow, I knew he was out there waiting for me?
For heaven’s sake, it’s bad enough my body is betraying me. I don’t need to think stupid things like that on top of everything else.
But look what he was willing to do to be with you.Right. He was willing to break into my apartment rather than pick up the phone. What a hero.
Am I pushing him away, though? No. I’m arching my back again when he closes a hand over my breast, rubbing his palm over my nipple and making it harden in an instant. If he would only do that forever and never, ever stop. What’s the use of fighting? Why should I deny myself this?
It’s like he’s reading my mind. “You know what you want. Take it.” His breath is hot on my face, and I turn it toward him, my lips seeking his. A shudder runs through me when he brushes them against mine before probing with his tongue.
No, it’s not enough to be touched like this. I want his skin against mine. If this is going to happen, I want all of it. Not a quickie in a closet and not a make-out session. “Touch me,” I beg before he kisses me again and again until I don’t know who or where I am.
I only know he’s unbuttoning my shirt, and now I wish I was wearing something sexier than a pajama set with frolicking kittens printed on the fabric. It doesn’t seem to bother him. No, when he thrusts his hips, he drives his hard length against my hip.
“What’s wrong?” He freezes when I flinch, lifting his head, his eyes searching my face in the light coming from the other side of the open door.
“I never… you know.” We might have had sex, but I was more or less fully clothed. “Nobody’s ever seen me like this before.”
“You’re beautiful. Every inch of you.” His lips touch my forehead, my nose, my cheek. “Everything about you. Let me see you. Let me taste you.” And as he whispers his words like a hypnotic spell, he slowly eases my shirt open until it falls to both sides.
I hold my breath as he stares down at me, his throat working when he swallows, his jaw tightening. His fingertips dance over my skin, massaging my breast while he plants gentle but burning kisses against my throat.
It’s so good it almost hurts. But that’s nothing compared to the feel of his tongue as it sweeps over my nipple. It’s like a shock blasting its way through me but in the best way possible. My god, how did I live without this? How did I live without him?
He’s so gentle, almost reverent, moving back and forth, teasing me until all I can do is groan my frustration. Now I am hurting, wet, and aching so hard it’s painful. I don’t realize I’m lifting my hips until he chuckles, releasing my nipple with a light popping sound. “Aching, aren’t you?”
“Yes!” I admit. I don’t care if it sounds pathetic. “Yes, touch me, please!”
“I am touching you. You’ll have to be more specific.”
“Talon, please!”
“Relax.” He kisses his way down my stomach while almost playfully tugging at my shorts. “We have all night.” I like the sound of that. I don’t care about anything but feeling more of this, letting him wake me up to everything I’ve missed.
So even though I’m nervous, I lift my hips again, this time so he can work the shorts and panties down my legs. I don’t think I’ve ever been this scared, not even when I heard him out in the living room. My heart’s racing so fast that I think I’ll be sick, and I want nothing more than to cover myself with my hands.
“You’re so beautiful.” Again and again, he whispers it like a prayer, and slowly I begin to relax, letting my legs fall open when he nudges them. He slides down the bed a little until he’s between my thighs, and I’m caught between fear and pleasure again as he runs his lips over the insides. The scruff on his cheeks chafes my skin, but even that’s good, and it isn’t long before my fingers are tangled in his hair, and the room is filled with the sound of my breathless gasps and my moans.
I can’t believe this is happening. I can’t believe it’s happening to me. That this man wants me this badly, that it’s because of me he’s breathing so hard, grunting like an animal as he gets closer to where I need him most. I’m still scared, but more than that, I’m dying for more.
My body erupts in goose bumps when he blows over my wet, swollen lips. “Oh god, yes…” I close my eyes, every scrap of my focus tuned in to that single part of my body, concentrating on the delicious sensations that start at my pussy and radiate through me.
“Such a pretty pussy,” he whispers. Instead of cringing in embarrassment, I open my thighs wider. If he doesn’t let me come soon, I’ll die. I wish I had the courage to say it.
But I think he senses it. “I’m going to make you come with my tongue,” he explains in a growl. “And then, I’m going to fuck you. But first, I wanna make sure you’re good and ready.” I’m ready now, dammit, but thankfully, he touches his tongue to the seam of my lips, and everything else falls away. All thought, all fear, all of it.
