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Something dark flashes in his eyes, his lips twitching into a grin as his fingers skim the waistband of my jeans. He leans in, lips brushing my ear, his breath hot against my skin. “Wasn’t planning on it.”
I can’t think, let alone speak. My hands tangle in his hair, pulling him closer, desperate for more. My fingers find the hem of his shirt, lifting it slowly until he wrenches it off, our lips parting for one agonizing second before the fabric is tossed aside. My body arches into his, silently begging for his touch. He answers instantly, his mouth crashing back into mine. The kiss deepens, his tongue sliding skillfully against mine, leaving me breathless.
My hands slide to his bare chest exploring the hard lines of his stomach.
His breath catches, and he flashes me a grin. “Careful, honey,” he teases. “I’m trying to take this slow, but if you keep that up, I’m not going to be able to hold back.”
“Who said I want you to go slow?” I challenge.
His grin widens, a rumbly laugh escaping him. “You really don’t know what you’re asking for.” His hands tighten on my hips, his thumbs tracing slow, maddening circles against my skin, the cool air hitting me as his hands travel lower, pushing my pants, exposing more of me.
Before I can respond, he lifts me effortlessly, placing me on the kitchen island before kneeling in front of me, and my breath catches at the sight. The only thing separating us is my cotton panties—and the ache between my legs for him.
“You’re stunning,” he whispers, his eyes locking onto the fabric, dark with admiration and raw want. His grip on my thighs tightens like he can’t get enough of me. “Every. Single. Inch.”
His lips brush against my stomach, kissing the soft skin as he trails lower, teasing me with what’s to come. I know he can see every roll on my belly, every stretch mark, but the way he kisses me, groaning against my skin, has me forgetting all about it, breath hitching in anticipation.
His lips travel lower, and I feel the heat of his breath before he presses the softest kiss right over my panties, making my whole body jolt. My hands find his shoulders, anchoring me to him as I fight to catch my breath.
“You don’t have to—” I start, but he cuts me off with a kiss to my inner thigh.
“Believe me when I say,” he murmurs, his voice dark and commanding, his hands pushing my legs wider, “I fucking want to.”
Chapter twenty-one
Nicholas
I’ve fucked a lot.
Throughout the years, I’ve had my fair share of women. I love the chase, love the feel of a tight, pink pussy stretching around my cock, legs wrapped around my waist. And tits. Fuck, I love tits. Small, big, perky, heavy, I didn’t care, as long as they were in my hands or my mouth.
But since signing that contract, I haven’t even looked at another woman, let alone touched one. And right now? Right now, it’s like I’ve never touched a woman in my life. My cock is straining against my pants, harder than it’s ever been.
I’ve never wanted anyone like I want her. Never in a million years thought this would happen. And yet, here she is. Laid out for me, her legs parted just enough to make my mouth water.
I press my face to the soft skin of her inner thigh, breathing her in. She smells warm, intoxicating, like everything I’ve ever craved but never had.
My hand slides up her thigh, my thumb grazing the edge of her panties. The heat radiating from her is unbearable, and my cock throbs with the need to sink into her, to make her mine. Slowly, I hook my finger under the cotton and pull it aside.
She’s beautiful. Wet, pink, and perfect in every way.
My tongue drags over my bottom lip as I take her in. I need her. Need to taste her, ruin her, claim her in ways that will make her forget anything that isn’t me.
A low groan rumbles in my throat as my fingers trace her seam, slick heat coating my skin. She shivers beneath my touch, her body soft, pliant, and so damn eager. I dip lower, circling her clit with slow strokes, my cock throbbing in time with every soft sound spilling from her lips.
“You want me to eat this pretty pussy, honey?” My voice is rough, gravelly, the words dragging from deep in my chest. My fingers tease her, stroking just enough to make her gasp but not enough to give her what she needs.
Her body jerks, her hips tilting up as if begging for more. Her breathing quickens, and her cheeks flush a deep, beautiful red. She nods, frantic, but that’s not good enough for me.
“Words, Amara,” I coax. I need to hear her say it, to beg for it. “Tell me what you want.”
Her lips part, her eyes fluttering shut as a shaky whimper escapes her. “I… want—” Her voice cuts off with a sharp inhale when I press my thumb harder against her clit, drawing slow, torturous circles that have her shaking with anticipation.
“Want what?” I push, my thumb never relenting. “I can’t give it to you if you don’t tell me.”
Another sweet moan spills from her lips, and it takes everything in me not to dive in and devour her. But I wait. I want her uninhibited, stripped of any hesitation, free to feel and say everything she’s holding back.
“Your mouth,” she finally breathes, her voice shaky, her cheeks burning. “I want your mouth.”