Page 24 of Accidentally Mine

Roselynn

O ne moment he was leading me around his incredible place, room after room looking more like a showroom than a bachelor pad, but the only thing I could really focus on was him.

Dressed in slacks and white shirt, they showed off his athletic, masculine parts.

Perfect ass. Broad chest. I couldn’t focus, my eyes continually being drawn to the bulge behind the zipper of those pants.

I was going to explode from my needful curiosity.

So when he turned and told me he was going to make love to me tonight, I didn’t hesitate for a moment. And I didn’t need to choose a place. A gutter would’ve worked fine. All I wanted was his skin against mine.

He pulled me to him, and my breasts were pressed against his chest as his mouth slammed over mine.

Crushing my lips. Walking me backward, a thrill shot through me when my back pressed against the wall of his rooftop balcony.

Would it be right here, against the wall?

His hands were warm and rough as they smoothed over my back, the kiss turning hot and feverish, his mouth wickedly delicious.

I suddenly felt like I’d been starved, without even knowing what I’d been missing. I sucked on his tongue hungrily, unable to get enough.

Here I was, the woman who called herself Rebel but never did rebel, rebelling against every single thought in my head that was telling me to behave.

“I can’t decide,” I teased, gasping as he dipped his head, his tongue streaking a hot trail down my neck. “What about starting here and working our way through,” I gasped again, “every room.”

It didn’t matter where. All that mattered was Brent. I wanted him so desperately that I wondered if I’d ever get enough.

“You can have more than one choice. We’ll start with the bed,” he said with a glint in his eyes, hooking an arm under my knees and scooping me up. He carried me effortlessly to his bedroom, all the while never breaking eye contact.

He set me down in front of his bed, cupped my face in both hands, and crushed his mouth to mine, kissing me harder and hungrier than I’d ever been kissed before, sucking urgently on my tongue.

His kiss was silken and smooth, and felt like fate, like the reconnecting of two halves of a whole.

One hand still on my back, one threaded through my hair, he pulled the tie from my hair and let it spill in a loose mess over my shoulders.

“God, Roselynn. You have the most beautiful hair,” he said, running a hand down it, fluffing it so that it fell even more wildly into my eyes. “You should wear it down more. No baseball cap. Just like this.”

“I…” I fumbled for words, the intensity of his gaze too much.

“Can’t?” he finished, trailing one finger lazily down my arm. “You said that before. I get the feeling you can do a lot more than you think, my little Rebel.”

He turned his attention to my shoulders, delivering kisses to my collarbone as he slowly lowered the straps of the dress.

His mouth, hot and open, made an electric path to the swell of my breasts, kissing every inch of skin as it was revealed to him.

I tilted my face toward the ceiling and my eyes rolled back in my head as fireworks ignited in my vision.

He placed his hands at the sides of my breasts, just cupping, not squeezing.

I let out another gasp as his tongue slid lower, dancing along my cleavage, his hot breath between my breasts.

My nipples were buzzing and as if sensing that, he turned his attention to them, licking his way around my nipple through the chiffon of the dress.

He took it between his teeth and tugged on it slightly, flicking it with his tongue. Wetness bloomed between my legs.

His hands swept down my bare arms. With one finger, he tugged the fabric of my dress down, freeing the nipple. He encircled my breast with his hand, molding it, his eyes twinkling greedily as his tongue snaked out to lick at the hard bud.

My entire body clenched. The building pressure low in my belly was almost too much, radiating from my breasts down to deep within my core.

His teeth clamped around the fabric covering my other breast, and he dragged that down too, attacking the nipple with his mouth. Sucking. Biting. Flicking over it with the rod of his tongue. Blowing on it softly with his warm breath. Lavishing so much attention, it felt like worship.

He kissed his way up my neck and to my ear, tugging on the lobe gently while his free hand glided down my side, sliding into the slit and up under the dress, delivering featherlight touches to my outer thigh.

His breath was warm as he nibbled the shell of my ear, and whispered, “Instead of thinking about what can’t happen, let’s concentrate on what can . This is all you. I won’t ever do anything you don’t want. Okay, Roselynn? So tell me. What do you want me to do?”

His fingers dipped between my legs, stroking lightly over the sensitive skin of my inner thighs, and I mewled, trying to push his satin touch closer to where I needed it. “Touch me there.”

He lifted his fingers between my thighs and slid them over the silken fabric of my panties, sending a jolt of pure pleasure through me. His hand moved in gentle, lazy circles, lightly cupping my mound. I shifted my stance, spreading my legs for him, inviting him in.

But he clearly had taking his time in mind.

His finger moved in torturously slow ways, teasing and taunting through the fabric of my panties. When he finally narrowed in on my slit, moving along the line of me, his fingers were barely a whisper. I thought I might die. I canted my hips toward him, eager for more.

He fastened his mouth on mine, hard, thrusting his tongue in and out as his fingers finally slid under the band of my panties.

On instinct, I spread my legs and offered more of myself to him.

He teased the lips of my sex, skimming over the smooth skin there, before sliding his finger between my lips, gently making contact with my clit.

My body shuddered, and I moaned as his fingers dipped into the slick wetness of my arousal, and he resumed that soft, steady swirling of his fingers on my clit. He pressed his knee between my legs, moving them farther apart. Then, he slowly eased a finger into me.

“Oh,” I let out, crumpling against him as he moved his finger in and out of me. “Brent.”

“Good?” he asked as he continued to assault me with his fingers.

He added a second one, always keeping the pressure of the pad of his thumb on my clit, turning my entire insides molten with desire.

My hips rocked against his hand, my whole body clenching as he buried yet a third finger inside me and thrust. “Yeah, you’re good, Rebel.

Amazing. So warm, so fucking soft. Tight. ”

“Mmm.” I couldn’t speak. My entire vocabulary had left me. My hands wandered to what I wanted more than anything. To the front of his pants, his cock. I groped for the closure, desperate to feel him in my hand.

But he angled himself away. Grabbed the back of my head and bit down on my earlobe. “I need to taste you first,” he murmured, easing me down onto the downy white comforter of his pillowy soft bed. “Everywhere.”

I wasn’t sure if that was a threat or a promise.

I quivered as he slipped between my legs, his rough hands traveling up my thighs. He hooked his thumbs on the string of my underwear, tugging them down my thighs. Lifting one of my legs, then the other, he freed them from my body, his gaze that of a man possessed.

As he tossed them onto the floor, my whole body clenched into a tight knot, partly from desire and anticipation, but also from the unknown.

I sat up on my elbows, very aware that my dress was bunched at my middle and I was completely exposed to him. No man had ever done this before. Anthony had never wanted to, and I’d never pushed the subject. “Brent, you don’t have to do that.”

“Shhh,” he whispered, splaying a hand on my chest and pushing me back down on the bed. “If you don’t like it, I promise I’ll stop.”

My thighs trembled as he parted them more. He knelt down in front of me and lifted my legs onto his shoulders, dragging me forward, to the very edge of the bed. Maintaining eye contact the whole time, he lowered his head, nibbling up my inner thigh.

I cried out at the first feel of his lips on my most intimate of places, then keened when he stroked his tongue up the wetness of my slit.

“No man has ever tasted this heaven?” he murmured, his lips lightly nipping at my sensitive skin, teasing me toward sweet madness.

I shook my head, my face on fire, my hands grasping and clinging to the soft quilt.

His tongue…god, his tongue.

He was slowly driving me to madness as his tongue dipped into me, lapping at my very center. The breath backed up in my lungs as my concentration centered only on his tongue. Licking. Probing. Exploring a complicated path across my entire sex. I jerked from the contact before pressing in for more.

His hot breath. His perfect mouth. His stubble and oh, god, god, god…his tongue. It was starting to become my favorite thing in the whole wide world.

I grabbed fistfuls of the comforter as he licked his way up and down my folds, delving his tongue between them.

A groan fell from my lips, my fingers moving to plunge into his hair and grip as he slid one hand up the inside of my thigh, parting my swollen lips with his fingers to allow his mouth deeper access.

His thumb rubbed my clit in languorous, excruciatingly delicious circles as he thrust his tongue deep into me. My back arched, toes curling. Then his mouth centered on my clit, gently sucking it into his mouth. I bucked forward on the bed. That was too much. Way too much.

There had to be a point where pleasure just became too much and a person died from it. Right? Because just when I thought it couldn’t get better, Brent went and raised the bar.