Page 117 of Come to Me

He bites me again, ever so slightly harder. He's testing, careful. Too careful.

I wrap my legs around him, pulling his body towards mine. His cock is straining against his jeans, and I arch my pelvis, rubbing my crotch against his--my underwear against his jeans.

Jesus Christ.

Luke pulls his lips off my neck, his hands from my bra. He runs his fingers over my t-shirt, pressing it against my skin. It's so soft I can barely feel it.

He explores every inch of that damn t-shirt, pressing it against the skin on my neck, shoulders, stomach. Tracing the outline of my bra, his fingers so, so close to my nipples, so, so close to my fucking skin.

I groan, my legs shaking, my hands digging harder and harder into his hair.

He's evil.

He retraces all of his steps with two fingers. The fabric of my shirt scrapes against my skin, the gentlest bit of friction. Up and down and left and right and back and forth.

Finally, he cups my breasts over my shirt. He rubs gently, three fingers making circles over my nipples.

There's an ache between my legs. I'm empty and, my God, I need him to fill me. I squeeze my legs together, as if to somehow contain the want pouring out of me.

He brings his hands to the bottom of my shirt. His fingertips slip onto my stomach. Jesus. Every touch sends tingles to my sex.

I force my eyes open and look into his. His attention is foggy, like he's already slipped deep into lust. He kisses me, his soft, full lips sucking on mine.

When our kiss breaks, he pulls my shirt over my head. His eyes pass over my body, slowly taking in every inch.

"Get on your stomach."

The order sends a shiver of anticipation through me.

He shifts his body off mine, watching as I roll onto my stomach. My body is on fire, waiting to be touched, caressed, filled.

He straddles me again, his knees pressed against my thighs, his crotch against my ass. He brings his mouth to my ear and scrapes his teeth against my lobe.

"I was going to give you a massage," he finally tells me.

His fingers slide down my neck, around my shoulders. He traces my spine. It's slow and gentle and light. He stops at my lower back, his fingertips pressed against the top of my panties.

He runs his fingertips over the edge of my panties.

I swallow hard, digging my hands into the sheets. "And what will you do instead?"

He slides his hands back up my back, stopping to unhook my bra and press the back off my back.

"Well," he says, bringing his body onto mine. "I'm going to have to touch you everywhere." He kisses my shoulders, his teeth gently scrapping against my skin. "Until you're so desperate to come that you're shaking."

"Luke..."

He runs his hands over my sides, along my chest, stomach, hips. "Do you object?"

I shake my head.

"Good," he says.

He drags his fingertips back up my side, moving closer and closer to my breasts. My body hums, tingling everywhere. I bite my tongue to keep from screaming.

He slides his hands under me, onto my chest.

Jesus. My sex clenches, my body filling with want. I try to roll over, but he squeezes his knees around me to hold me in place.