Page 66 of Hideaway Heart

“You know, for someone who was so against messing around with me, your ideas areverymessy.”

“I know.” He fisted his hand in my hair and pulled my head to one side, fastening his mouth to my neck. His tongue tickled my throat as it traveled up to my ear, where he traced the shell. His beard rubbed against my jaw as he whispered, “I’ll clean it all up.”

I slid one hand between his legs, stroking the bulge in his jeans, excitement building in me as he thickened beneath my palm. His hands moved up to cover my breasts through my tank top. I hadn’t bothered with a bra, so my nipples poked through the thin cotton, and his thumbs teased them until they were hard and almost painfully sensitive. Desire radiated outward from those two little tips, setting fire to every nerve ending in my body. It amazed me how he could use such a small body part of his to create such a powerful feeling in me. My clit ached for his touch. My pulse quickened with anticipation. His mouth covered mine in a searing-hot kiss that made me pant and writhe and want to lie down right here, right now.

Throwing my arms around his neck, I tried to pull him down, but he only laughed. “You want me to fuck you on the kitchen floor? Is that it?”

“Yes.” And I was not above begging for it, but he didn’t make me.

Reaching beneath the bottom of his sweatshirt, he unbuttoned and unzipped my denim shorts, then yanked them down to my ankles. As soon as I kicked them aside, he grabbed me and set me on the counter. Pushed my knees apart. Growled with animalistic hunger. Buried his head between my thighs.

Then he used his tongue and lips and fingers to drive me all the way to the edge of the orgasm cliff like five fucking times without actually sending me over. Propped on my elbows, I watched him delight in tormenting me, sometimes with his eyes closed in sensual abandon, sometimes looking up at me with smoldering intensity, sometimes focused on his hand as he fucked me with his fingers, slowly and expertly, with toe-curling patience and skill.

“Xander,” I begged. “Please.”

“Please what?” His breath on me was warm and tantalizing.

“Please let me come.”

He backed off, pressing soft, wet kisses to my stomach, my hip bones, my clit. “You want to come?”

“Yes.”

“What are you going to do for me?”

“Anything.”

“Anything?” He bit my thigh. “Seems like a risky gamble on your part. You don’t know me all that well. My mind could be a scary place.”

“Xander.”

“I mean, what if I want to tie you up?” He gave my clit the barest swipe with his tongue.

“Fine.”

“Blindfold you?” Another agonizing, light-as-a-feather caress.

“Okay.” My stomach muscles twitched.

“Fuck your mouth with my cock?”

I licked my lips. “Do it.”

“You’d like that?” He pushed his fingers a little deeper and looked up at me with those dark, ravenous eyes. “Sucking my cock?”

“Yes.” I tried to move my hips, get some friction.

“You want me to come in that pretty little mouth? Feel me dripping on your lips? Taste my cum on your tongue?”

“Yes. Goddamn it. Yes.” Frustrated almost to the point of tears, I went to put my own hand between my legs, and he snatched both my wrists, pressing them firmly to the counter outside of my legs. My head fell back onto the butcher block with a thud, and I moaned with weary aggravation.

“Oh no,” he reprimanded me with a harsh tone. “This is my orgasm to give, not yours to take.”

“Then give it,” I begged. “Please.”

He exhaled, like I was asking too much of him. “Fine. But I might have to punish you later for rushing me.”

“Deal,” I said, positive the climax would be worth the cost. “Just don’t stop this time.”