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He tastes like…
I close my lips around his tongue.
He tastes like candy. Like sugar and fruit and childhood memories.
Hans groans and slides his tongue deeper into my mouth.
My mind is fuzzy with desire, but I still want more.
More contact. More skin. More Hans.
I slide my hands up his body, up his chest, over his bunching muscles, until I grip his shoulders.
Our teeth click together when we both open our mouths wider.
I must be dreaming.
I curl my fingers, letting my nails dig into his shirt, confirming this is real.
Hans rocks into me. His hard length digs into my belly, and I lift my leg, hooking my foot around the back of his thigh.
I don’t know what I’m trying to do. But whatever my body is thinking, his is thinking it too.
The hand on my hip slides around to my lower back. Then lower still.
He palms my ass, but he keeps sliding lower until his hand is between my legs, cupping my pussy from behind.
Right as I tilt my head back to suck in a breath, he lifts me. With one hand. And sets me on the back of the couch.
My legs automatically spread, and Hans steps forward to fill the space between us.
His hold on me is almost too much. The hand in my hair, and the one beneath me, between my legs.
“Who are the photos for?” Hans releases my hair and drags his hand down my neck.
I try to elongate my spine, try to stretch my body in a way that will force his hand to my chest.
“Cassandra,” he snaps this time.
“Me,” I admit on a tortured moan. “They were a birthday present for me.”
The fingers against my core flex. My thin shorts and panties are the only thing separating his touch from my entrance.
“Jesus,” I pant.
He shakes his head. “You use my name while I’m touching you.”
“S-sorry.” I can’t believe I just apologized for that.
The hand on my neck lowers until he’s squeezing my breast. “Who are the photos for?”
He pinches my nipple through the fabric as he flexes his other fingers again.
“You.” I claw at his shoulders and wiggle against the hand beneath me. “They’re for you.”
It’s not even a lie. Every time I’ve fantasized about a man since moving in, it’s been him. When the photographer told me to imagine someone I wanted to seduce, I pictured him.
“That’s a good girl.” Hans tugs on my nipple.
