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Need and pleasure tensed in my lower belly until I finally lost control.

I cried out desperately as pleasure rolled through me, all the way down to my toes. My breaths were uneven as I tried to recover, but his hand was still on my ass, and I still wanted more.

“You’re fucking gorgeous,” he growled.

I arched against him again, and he slid his hand up the curve of my waist.

“Let me touch you,” he said.

“You can do whatever the hell you want to me, if it feels that good.”

His fingers hooked under my sweater, pulling it up over my head.

My stomach tensed as he undid my nude, lace bra—and I gasped as his rough hands slid over my breasts a moment later.

He squeezed and kneaded, dragging his thumbs over my nipples.

My hips moved as he touched me.

“You’re so damn soft.” He increased the pressure to my nipples, and I moaned. “Bet you’ll taste good, too.”

My entire body clenched at the thought.

His tongue was dragging over one of my nipples a moment later.

I cried out, hips jerking desperately. The pressure on my clit through our clothes still felt good, but it wasn’t enough. I wanted his jeans gone.

He sucked lightly, and I swear, my brain short-circuited.

“Even better than I thought.” His voice was low, almost feral.

My head tipped back.

Desperate noises I hadn’t realized I was capable of making filled the air as he played with my nipples with his hands, tongue, and teeth.

And despite his jeans—which I’d come to despise—the pressure of him and the way he made love to my breasts was too much.

My cries flooded the room as I bucked and rocked, unraveling against him again.

“Holy shit,” I moaned, his tongue still dragging over one of my nipples and his thumb slowly teasing the other.

“Next time, you climax on my tongue.”

“Yes.” The word was desperate.

Hot.

So insanely needy.

I had to have more.

His mouth and hands left my breasts, moving slowly down my abdomen as he lowered me to the rug on the floor.

If not for the orgasms that had relaxed me, I might’ve been self-conscious about being naked in front of him.

I might’ve been worried he wouldn’t like the way I looked.

But he’d made it really damn clear that he loved my body.