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She broke into my thoughts. “Why are you holding back?” It appeared she was reading my mind, that she was attuned to my internal dilemma.
“I’m trying to be a gentleman.” A guilty chuckle escaped me. “For tonight, at least. You’ve been drinking. And—”
She quirked up an eyebrow.
“We’ve been drinking,” I amended.
“And?”
“I don’t want the first time we’re together to be when we’re drunk.”
She looked at me, blinking, trying to maintain focus. “I’m not drunk. Are you?”
“I’ve had more drinks than I’d like to have in me for this”—I gestured in between us—“to happen tonight.”
“All righty,” she giggled out. “Whatever you say.” She tossed her hair back and gave me a suggestive look. “But just so you know, you’re missing out.”
It was my turn to raise my eyebrow. “I bet I am.”
She stepped closer. “I am too.”
Her words quashed my internal struggle. I was done fighting this need inside me. I looked into her stunning eyes and whispered seductively: “I’m not going to let you sleep tonight until I have completely satisfied you.”
She sucked in a breath, obviously dumbfounded by my words and my confidence. I pulled her against me, kissing her deeply.
“Come with me,” she said, pulling me to the bed.
I kissed her mouth, once, twice, before pulling back and looking at her face, into those magnificent hazel eyes.
Her eyes flashed her utter willingness.
I plunged into her again, sucking her tongue into my mouth, assaulting both of our senses.
She broke away, peeking up at me. “That was no gentleman’s kiss.”
“I’m not feeling very gentlemanly right now.”
Her laugh was deep and husky. “Good.”
I grazed my hands down her waist, caressing her body as I traveled back up, gently squeezing the sides of her breasts.
Siena emitted a carnal growl and took me in for another deep kiss. She tasted like mint and smelled like honey—a mixture of sugar and spice.
I lowered my hands and brushed my fingers over her hips, inching up the hem of her purple dress. I ran my hand up her exposed thigh, teasing her with the tips of my fingers along the edges of her underwear, feeling the soft fabric and her even softer skin.
I dipped my fingers underneath the lace that held her warmth. My finger traced the slit of her lips, and I sucked in my breath. I could barely get out the words: “Fuck, you’re wet.”
She pushed into my hand until my fingers disappeared inside her. Whimpering, she hungrily grabbed the back of my head and pulled me to her for another kiss. When she had captured my mouth, she moved her hands to my belt and yanked my shirt out of my pants, working furiously to unbutton it. Her hands felt like velvet as she ran them over the ridges of my abs, across my pecs, and up around my shoulders. The feel of her caused my dick to strain even harder against the fabric of my pants.
She pushed my shirt off, stroking and massaging my arms all the way down. She grabbed my hand, helping me plunge it deeper into her hot, wet center. Our hands worked together as she rocked against my fingers, teaching me exactly how she liked to be touched.
I loved how she knew her body and wasn’t afraid to show me how she wanted to be pleasured. It was such a fucking turn on, both of our hands working her simultaneously. Tonight, despite my own need, I intended to focus solely on her pleasure, to learn her body and to watch how she reacted to my touch, what she liked, what she needed.
I pulled one side of her dress off her shoulder, her breast popping free. I leaned down and took her pert nipple into my mouth and sucked. She groaned as she fisted her other hand in my hair. Then she let go, pulled the other side of her dress down, squeezing her breast to my lips, enticing me so I could savor more of her.
Her tits were in my face, and I moved back and forth over them, sucking, biting, squeezing them in my hands and rubbing them against my face as she rocked against me.
I knew she was mine. I palmed her in my hand, letting her grind against my fingers, rubbing herself over me, bringing herself pleasure as I tasted the honeyed flesh of her succulent breasts.
