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“Lose the shirt,” I say. I’ve been dreaming about running my hands across his bare chest for over a week now.
He unfastens the remaining buttons, shrugs it off and thank you Jesus, this man’s just as gorgeous as I imagined two nights ago when I strummed my fingers across my sex and rocked out an orgasm. I run an appreciative hand over his chest, his muscles sculpted and hard just like I imagined. The V between my legs grows wetter, warmth flooding my pelvis, my clit tingling.
He seizes my hand, walking backward, leading me.
“Are we’re putting all our cards on the table?” I ask, following him willingly.
“Sure.”
“I haven’t slept with anyone in a while.”
“What’s a while?”
“Two years,” I say. “Not because of anything horrible. Simply my choice.”
“Oh, darling,” he says, sitting on the bed, pulling me onto his lap on top of him. “You’re so sexy, Evie. What’s wrong with these Chicago guys?”
“Not their fault,” I say, “It’s just, well, before I started at Ma Maison, I was finishing up school. Dating was pretty random. But that doesn’t matter because I can take care of my own needs, if you know what I mean.”
“Tell me.”
“I can come on my own. Girl’s got different ways to get that done, thank you very much.”
“Wait up, hold on.” He and eyes me. “You’ve never come with a guy?”
“No. I mean -- I don’t think so. It’s probably my fault. I’m doing something wrong or --”
“A girl’s first orgasm with a partner isn’t the girl’s responsibility, Evie. Making a girl come is her partner’s responsibility. Oh, baby. I’d push all my chips into the middle of the table to be the first man to give you this.”
He brushes kisses down my abdomen, one hand grazing my inner thigh, traveling to the V between my legs, close to my clit, but not touching it. My breath ratchets up a notch as he continues stroking the inside of my thigh, licking and nibbling at the soft skin just inches from my pussy. My hips lift almost of their own accord because Dylan McAlister is a fucking tease.
“Touch me,” I say.
“I am touching you.” He looks up at me.
“You know what I mean.”
“Where should I touch you, Evie?”
“My clit.”
He sucks on his fingertips, then brushes a thumb over my bundle of nerves and I clench my thighs against him.
“You’ve got some place to get to?” he asks. “Someplace you’d rather be?”
“No.” My heart thump-thumps in my chest.
“Then slow down and enjoy the ride, Lucky Charm.” He flicks his thumb back and forth over my center, and I sigh. He reaches his other hand up and plays with my tits, grasping them, pinching my nipples, and they harden under his touch.
Desire moves through me and I bite my lip. I’m growing wetter and I want him inside me. “Dylan,” I say. “Fuck me.”
“Let’s do this first,” he says, pressing his hand against the wetness of my seam, sliding two fingers inside my pussy.
I moan.
“Good God, Evie, you’re tight.”
I clench my center around his fingers as he pushes deeper, before slowly drawing his fingers out and sliding them back in. “Good?” he asks.
