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Kissing Claire is like seeing in color for the first time. I’ve done this countless times with countless women, but it’s never been like this. It feels new and exciting, exhilarating, like I’m not sure where each turn is going to take us. Each sweep of my tongue is cautious but purposeful, the dust of my fingers over her side, her silky skin, familiarizing themselves with her body, memorizing it.
My hands slide over her ass as I gently tip her onto her back, laying her down on the couch. Her legs fall open for me, inviting me between them, and the second I settle there, her heels press into my ass, forcing me closer. I close my eyes and pull away at the warmth that spreads from her center to mine, reminding me to take this slow before I accidentally pressure her into taking this somewhere she’s not really ready to go.
“What?” she muses, fingers raking through the waves on top of my head.
“I just…” I lick my lips, peering into her gaze as it swims with desire and curiosity, an enticing mixture. “I’m happy to be here with you. That’s all.”
Her smile lights up her face. “Stop being cute, Mr. Beck. It does things to me.”
“What kinda things?” My body quivers under her touch as her hands snake under my t-shirt, fingertips ghosting over the muscles in my abdomen, my back, like she’s memorizing me just like I’m memorizing her.
She blushes at my question, and at my unrelenting gaze, turns her head away.
“Don’t do that,” I whisper. “Don’t be embarrassed. Look at me.”
She’s stubborn though, and I think she always will be, at least in some ways. That’s why I have to slide my palm along the edge of her jaw, turn her face back to mine. The questions that dance in the shadows of her face, causing her brows to furrow, the hesitation that brings about the crease in her forehead, has my mind racing.
Is it just physical for her? Or is it more? I need to know.
I sweep my lips across hers and then move down her neck, teasing and kissing until I find the pulse point in there. “Does it do things to you here?” I ask, though I already know the answer—I can feel it pulsing wildly against my lips.
“Yes,” she says on a wispy sigh.
I make my way down her body, pushing her shirt up her ribcage. My eyes settle on her creamy stomach, the soft curve of her hips, the jewel in her belly button. I kiss a path around her belly, finishing in the center. “What about here?”
“Yes.”
Finding her hip bone, I bite down gently before covering it with my tongue, sucking on it. She moans and writhes beneath me. Lifting her leg, my lips trail down the center of her silky thigh, then back up the inside, enjoying her garbled cry when I shift her sorry excuse for pajama shorts and close my mouth over the juncture of her thigh.
“And here?” I press a delicate kiss to the spot between her legs where I know she’s positively aching for me right now. The material is warm and damp against my lips and I can smell her arousal. She’s wet, and the thought alone makes my cock jump in my shorts.
The muscles in Claire’s stomach jump and she whimpers, fingernails biting into my shoulders as she watches me between her legs. “Yes,” she squeaks in a tiny voice.
I sit up on my knees and grab hold of her hips, tugging her down the couch to me. Leaning over her, I pull the neck of her oversize tee off her shoulder. Brushing my lips over top of her heart, I swear I can hear it, feel the way it hammers away in there. “What about here, Claire? Does it do things for you here?”
Her mouth opens and closes like she’s not sure how to answer, or maybe she’s just surprised by the question. Her sage eyes bounce between mine, cheeks rosy as she fumbles for words. “I…I…”
“I need to know, Claire. I need to know if I do the same thing to you that you do to me.”
“The…the same thing?”
I nod, placing her palm over my heart. If it’s beating as wildly as it feels like it is, throwing itself at my sternum like it’s trying to jump right out of my chest, I know Claire’s going to feel it.
And the look on her face tells me she does. Her fingers curl over my shoulder and her palm presses flat to my chest. Her lips part with a soft, “Oh,” and she sucks in a shuddering breath.
“Yeah,” I say on a quiet chuckle. “That’s all you, sweet strawberry.” I smile down at her while I smooth my hand over her hair, curling the tips around my finger. “Tell me you feel it, too.”
“I…I do, Avery.”
And that’s all I need to know. I haul her up to me with a grunt and our slow, steady make-out session turns wild and frantic, tongues shoving, fighting for power, hands everywhere. Claire grabs the hem of my shirt and rips it over my head, throwing it somewhere behind me. Her fingers run all over my chest, my abdomen, curving and dipping along every ridge, making me crave her touch.
“You’re so ridiculously good-looking it’s not even funny. I fucking hate how perfect your body is,” she growls, shoving me backwards and climbing on top of me.
I laugh, deep in my throat, my hands sliding over her ass, squeezing her to me while she assaults my neck, my chest, licking, nipping. “Really seems like you hate it.”
“No. I love it. It’s infuriating.” Her mouth opens on my shoulder, tongue lashing out, teeth pressing into my skin, causing my fingers to dig into her plump cheeks before I deliver a swift slap to the ass.
“You bite, I bite back,” I growl into her neck.
