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And then he told me he needed me. Needed more. All my insecurities that held me back and kept me chained were broken the minute he told me that he wanted more than a month. He said years. Years.
“Get over here.”
The shock on his face made my body smile. I could still surprise him. Still keep him on his toes. “What?”
Lust gripped me tighter as I sank my teeth into my bottom lip. The memory of his touch and knowing that I'd get to feel it really, really soon, emboldened me. I'd get to have him again. He'd get to have me—and this time, it was for real. “Get over here.”
I watched his every move, his body commanding my gaze in the heather gray sweater that made his pale green eyes glimmer. I'd only touched him briefly back in the hall but I had a feeling that beneath those jeans it was all Xander...no pesky underwear to tear off.
He was enthralled, stopping a few feet from me. Close, but not nearly close enough.
“Closer.”
Desire heated his gaze as he took the final step. I could feel the tone of him, the muscles that rippled beneath the clothes that I wanted to tear from his body. Each breath he drew ghosted through me. Every part of me ached for him. I threw my arms around his waist and held him tight, not wanting to let go.
“I want more too, Xander. You can keep the money. I want you. Nothing else but you.”
I gasped when he lifted me off the ground and spun me wildly in a circle. My heart spilled from my lips as I lost myself in happiness.
He lowered me back to the ground, but I glanced at his groin and saw there was another part of him that was flying high. He let me go, clearing his throat like the time for fun and games was ahead, but we had business to take care of first. “We better eat up, because I plan on making all kinds of love to you tonight.”
I had plans of my own and dinner was the furthest thing from my mind. I shrugged off my jacket, letting it drop unceremoniously to the floor. I shimmied out of my maxi dress and stood upright, glad I'd chosen tonight to wear my cotton candy pink bra that made my petite chest look downright sinful. The cheeky boy shorts got a 10 too from the way his jaw hit the floor.
“I always liked having my dessert first,” I purred with a smile.
He scooped me back up and I leapt into his arms, legs wrapping around his waist, arms wrapping around his neck...tongue wrapping around his tongue. I could taste the moans that rose in his throat. I could feel how badly he wanted me.
We sank onto the couch, me still straddling him, and I loosened my grip around his neck. I drew my fingertips across the strong lines of his neck, then drifted across his jaw as my lips devoured his. How was it possible that he tasted even sweeter than I remembered?
His hands slipped behind me, unhooking my bra. His tongue lashed across mine with each snap until his palm rested against my bare back. I groaned with desire as his fingertips raked across my skin and he pulled it off and flung it aside, my breasts bouncing free—but not for long. He gripped the mounds tight, his thumbs flicking my hardened nipples. When he pinched them hard, I let go of his lips, throwing my head back with ecstasy.
He had plans for his mouth, the warm embrace of his lips indulging in my breasts, sucking, tugging, biting one, then the other. I ground my hips into his, feeling his hardened arousal piercing through his jeans. His tongue circled my nipple, flicking to and fro until I was whipping my head back and forth. Begging for more, and feeling like I could take no more without spiraling into the abyss.
I gripped tuffs of his hair and pulled his lips back to mine. “Oh god,” I breathed in between kisses. “I have to have you, Xander. I need you inside me!”
I vaulted to the side and dove for the fly of his jeans, ripping the button free and unzipping him, grinning from ear to ear when I saw that it was nothing but denim and every rock hard, veiny inch of him. I felt the thrill of a challenge when I saw him in all of his glory. He was thicker than I'd realized, paired with a length that made me bite my lip.
I slid off his lap and lowered myself to my knees. I twisted my hair and let it spill over one of my shoulders. I met his gaze and felt the desire radiating from him in waves.
I leaned forward, my fingers grazing his solid length and skimming his swollen balls. His green eyes were wild, like some far off jungle. I wanted to explore him, find out what made him croon and rocketed him to the edge.
I swept my tongue over my lips and gripped his staff. I didn't wait to ask for permission, taking my tongue and sliding it across the stiff head of him. I savored the salt of his skin and the sweet mix of Xander that collided with my tongue. I remembered the feel of the sun against my skin and the hardness of the cement beneath me back at the winery; the strength of his grip as he spread my thighs apart. The softness of his tongue as he tasted the wet, throbbing place between my thighs. I tasted him now, great strokes of my tongue dipping from tip to base. He pulsed beneath my touch, his moans a deep and rumbling wave that washed over me. I spread my lips as wide as I could stand and his girth pushed them even wider, his bulge hot and thick as I worked my mouth up and down. His fingers knotted in my hair and the gentle tugs didn't guide me, didn't try to conduct my movements. He let me give him the pleasure I wanted to give—and I wanted to give him everything in me.
When I added my hand to the mix, rolling and massaging his balls in time with the rhythm of my mouth, his grip became tighter, his muscles rigid.
“Not in your mouth. Not yet.”
I sat back on my heels, not wiping away the smear of saliva and his juices. I wanted our sex to fade into me.
I watched my guy pull off his t-shirt, his muscles glistening like some big screen dreamboat that I never thought could be mine; those green eyes playfully seeking me out as he stepped out of his jeans to show me that he was even more delicious in nothing at all.
He swiped a condom from his back pocket, tearing the wrapper open with his teeth.
“Presumptuous much?” I smirked.
“Not presumptuous,” he said huskily, rolling it over his erection. “A hopeless optimist.”
I pressed my palms against the floor, getting ready to hop on my feet so I could hop onto a very hard part of him, but he pushed me back down to the floor. All the air was knocked from my lungs. Surprised, turned on by the force of his touch, and how delightfully helpless I felt as he towered above me, I could do nothing but remind myself to breathe as I looked up at him.
