Page 34

Willow

M y body ignites—every muscle, every nerve ending, every inch of skin aflame—as our lips burn, tongues dance, and teeth graze.

This fierce desire is new to me. Maybe it’s the liquid courage, maybe it’s the weeks of cat and mouse between us—the kisses with no end game, the desire that was one long slow burn—and maybe it’s the knowledge that all of that is coming to a head in the most deliriously delicious way.

We shed our clothes between kisses. A whirlwind of fabric—my dress, his pants—hands roaming as we do.

I trail my hands down his broad shoulders to the ridges of his abs and slip them beneath the waistband of his boxers. He’s hot and hard and pulses against my hand instantly.

His groan is all I need to hear. The only confirmation I need to know we’re both all in on this. That we’re both desperate for more than a kiss, for more than a touch.

My fingers twist in his hair as he stoops down so his tongue can circle and lips close over my nipple. He sucks, and the combination of the heat of his mouth and the pressure of his touch has me writhing beneath his touch. Begging for more. Needing more.

“Rock,” I moan. It’s a soft plea that only intensifies as he hooks his fingers in the fabric of my panties and pulls them to the side.

I’m already wet, already slick for his touch.

And when the pads of his fingers slide between my slit and find me ready for him, his guttural groan melds with my sharp inhale.

“Do you know how long I’ve waited for this moment?” he murmurs, kissing up to my neck. I can’t answer—my focus is on his hair between my fingers, the warmth of his breath, and the way he guides my leg up on the bed so that he can tuck his fingers inside me.

My breath catches, and my body melts into him. Into his touch and the sensations they evoke. The way he pulls his fingers out and trails them to my clit, rubbing gentle circles there. I press my hips into him, begging for more friction and the sparks that ignite with each touch.

His lips find mine again. “You didn’t answer, Wills,” he growls. “Do you know?”

My mind races, consumed by how perfectly his finger hits my most sensitive spot.

“That first night in the kitchen. You in that tank top with your nipples against the fabric. Do you know how badly I wanted to lift you onto the counter and fuck you into oblivion? It was so much easier thinking about that, obsessing over that than the reason you were actually here.”

He tugs my hair, tilting my head back so I meet his eyes. My mouth falls open, neck exposed.

“Then that black fucking bathing suit. Modest but fuck if it wasn’t the biggest cock tease in the world.

” He scrapes his teeth up the line of my neck, and my body bucks from the contrasting sensations.

“You were my escape from day one. Thinking about you. Hating myself for thinking about you. Wanting you and hating myself for wanting you.”

I gasp as he pushes his fingers back inside me, as they prepare me for him.

“You were my obsession. My escape. A constant reminder of the changes that were here and at the same time tempting me with that damn fucking braid and smart fucking mouth.”

His mouth finds mine again. His tongue mimics his fingers.

“Talk to me. Tell me you wanted this just as bad. Tell me you thought about me as much as I did you.” His words zing through me like electricity. Their truth even more so.

Held by my hair, there’s nowhere to hide—only the ragged rasp of my breath and the slick, rhythmic sound of his fingers in me.

I’ve never been this turned on in my life, and it’s not just from his fingers and lips, but from his words. His confessions. Knowing how much he’s desired me this whole time.

He tugs on my bottom lip with his teeth. “Now tell me what you want, Wills.”

I draw a steadying breath, stare back at him, and speak for the first time. “You, Rocket. I want you—inside me, on me, fucking me, drowning in me.”

His approving chuckle rumbles as he kisses me. “Nanny has a mouth on her.”

There’s something about the way he says it. The toying, playful way when his cock is hard against me and his fingers are filling me that make them seem so much ... more.

Before I can think too hard over any of it, he strips off his boxers with his free hand—his erection springs free, perfect and hard—but his dark eyes hold me more.

He watches me take it in, and I dart my tongue out to lick my bottom lip. He’s a sight for sore eyes. Ridged muscles colored with intricate ink. Broad shoulders narrowing down to trim hips, strong thighs, and a sizable cock in between.

My mouth waters looking at him. At anticipating what he’ll feel like.

“These weeks have been endless foreplay, Wills. I should be pushing you down and fucking you into oblivion but Christ, woman, I want this to last. Need this to last.”

I curl my hand around his cock and begin to stroke him. Slow, long slides of my hand over its soft, velvety skin. His shoulders tense, his head falls back, and his lips call out my name.

“I dreamed about this. About you.” His voice is like sandpaper, and his words have heat creeping into my cheeks. But he cups my face, thumb stroking my jaw. “Don’t blush. Not with me.”

He withdraws his fingers and traces the curve of my ass before turning me around slowly and unclasping my bra. My breath hitches at his lips grazing my shoulder. “Yes?” he asks.

“Yes. ”

He pats my ass and steps back. “Now crawl onto that bed and think how you want to be fucked.” I turn to see him reaching for a condom out of his nightstand.

“Soft? Slow? Testing my restraint?” I sit on the edge of the bed as he steps into the moonlight.

He rips open the foil packet and then begins to roll the condom on as I watch, legs spreading willingly as I scoot back.

“Or hard, fast, so deep you feel me in your stomach?” My mouth is dry, thighs ache.

He crawls on the bed between my thighs and taps his cock against me.

“Christ, Wills, that pussy of yours is the prettiest color of pink.” He runs one hand up my thigh.

“Stunning. Sexy. Do you taste as good as you look?”

Before I can answer, he’s between my legs again, hands on my thighs, mouth on me. His guttural groan vibrates inside me as his tongue and fingers delve into me, mastering every slick slide of it.

His stubble scrapes my inner thighs. His warmth envelops me, and his hands brace my legs open. His tongue plunges.

I moan as each flick of his tongue has me coiling tighter. I clutch the sheets and dig my heels in as he quickens the motions—fingers and tongue in a relentless rhythm.

“Don’t stop,” I moan, hands fisting in his hair, back arching off the bed.

“Come for me, Wills,” he murmurs, and my hips buck against his lips.

“I want you to fuck me.”

“Not yet, baby. Not until you do this for me,” he says as the bed shakes, and as he finger-fucks me into my climax.

“Oh. My. God.” My orgasm rips through me. It’s like a jolt of lightning—searing, white-hot heat that holds me hostage and owns my every reaction—trembling, pulsing, breath-robbing.

But he kisses me through its waves as it surges again and then ebbs back down.

He watches me. Close up. Unfiltered. His eyes drag over me as my arousal glistens on his chin and mouth.

“You’re a drug, you know that?” He gently tugs on my bottom lip, and my eyes flash open.

“Quiet and sleepy. Drag me along and toy with me with tastes of what you have to offer, and then you go out looking like this, tasting like this... begging me to fuck you.”

“Pretty please.”

He cups one of my breasts, his thumb flicking over my pebbled nipple while his mouth closes around the other one. I squirm beneath his touch, my body still hypersensitive from my orgasm. My squirming only serves to grind my thigh against the thickness of his cock .

“Atta girl. Tell me what you want again.” His smile is dangerous. Appealing. Only for me.

My tongue delves into his mouth as my hands grip the back of his neck. “You. Now. Or I could always go back to the club to find someone—”

He silences me with a kiss, then slides in with a single, slow sweep. “Think you can take it all?” he challenges. “I know you can.” He thrusts deeper and groans, “More?”

I’m stretched beyond full yet desperate for more. “More,” I moan.

He pushes a fraction farther. “There you go, Wills. There’s my girl taking me all in.”

My eyes roll back, and my lips part as the delicious burn intensifies. “Yes,” I gasp. “Please, yes.”

He withdraws, drenched in my arousal—the sound of it filling the room—then lifts my hips to accommodate another thrust. Then another. Each one stronger than the last. Each one dragging over nerves and gloriously fulfilling needs. Who knew I wanted that ?

Sensations overload. The crest of his cock hitting that rough patch of nerves inside. The way his thumb adds the perfect friction to my clit. The feel of his strong thighs between mine. The absolute sexiness of his expression as he watches himself bury himself to the hilt inside of me.

I drown in the feel of it all. I welcome it. I revel in the sensations.

But they’re too much and not enough all at the same time. I want it to last but need it to hurry up.

“Please,” I beg.

He grips my neck and pulls me into a moan-fueled kiss that only pushes him deeper. “I need more,” I whisper. He obliges by fucking me harder, faster—our bodies slapping, his fingers digging into my hips, driving us both toward the edge.

The orgasm crashes through me with reckless abandon. There’s no other way to describe the blissful devastation it wreaks on my every muscle and nerve. My toes curl, legs shake, and pussy pulses as I cry out.

Yet he doesn’t stop, doesn’t pause this time around because he’s too busy chasing his own climax.

“Fuck,” he cries out as his hips jerk and body bucks. As his hands grip and eyes hold mine.

As the line has undoubtedly and pleasurably been crossed.