“I shouldn’t have brought you here,” he said, his voice low, but his body moved closer, his hand tightening on my chin as his fingers spread along the side of my neck.
“But you wanted to,” I whispered, afraid to talk too loud and pop the bubble we’d now created.
“Fuck it,” he grunted and slammed his lips against mine. It wasn’t sweet or sensual, slow or soft. It was hard and bruising, teeth and tongue mashing together as we explored each other’s mouths.
His hands wandered over my shoulders and down my arms, his thumb skimming the side of my breast and making me gasp. He ate it up, consuming it like it was the air he needed to breathe. My palms latched on to his biceps as his hands stopped at my hips, and then I was being lifted. My body knew what to do in that moment, and I went willingly, opening my legs and straddling his lap.
He pulled back, his chest heaving just as much as mine was as his hooded eyes looked down at my chest. “You look damn good in my T-shirt, Lola.” His gaze pierced mine. “But it’d look even better on the floor.” He waited, staring at me, and it took me a second to realize he was searching for permission. Permission I didn’t need to give him. I knew I’d never deny him a single thing.
I curled my fingers around the bottom of the soft cotton, not moving my eyes from his as I pulled it up, only a millisecond of lost eye contact as I pulled it over my head and flung it out to the side. But he didn’t look down. Instead, he stared right at me, his dark-brown eyes darker than they’d ever been, and a fierceness showcased I’d never seen before.
“You know I didn’t bring you here for this, right?” His voice wobbled, almost as if he was afraid I’d get up off his lap and walk away from him, but he had no idea. No idea that I wouldn’t be able to walk away from him.
“I know,” I whispered, moving closer to him and stopping centimeters away from his lips. “But I want this. That’s all that matters, right? I want this…you want this…”
He didn’t answer me with words. Instead, he pressed his lips against mine, this time slower, soaking in every second that we touched as his hands worked their way up my sides and stopping at the edge of my breasts. His thumbs extended, rolling over my nipples, and I moaned into his mouth, a kind of moan I’d never done before. He brought out a side to me I never even knew existed.
I rocked my hips, feeling his erection between my legs, and wishing there weren’t two layers of clothes between our bare skin. “Fuck, Lola.” He stood, wrapping his arms around my waist, his rough palms branding my smooth skin, promising things.
His steps were more like stumbles, not because he couldn’t carry my weight, but because my lips couldn’t stop touching him. His neck, the pulse point that thrummed faster the more I touched him, his shoulder that was covered in a tattoo and down his chest.
I needed more.
More of him.
There wasn’t a doubt in my mind as he laid me on the bed and stared down at me. I didn’t feel like I wanted to cover myself up as he drank his fill, his gaze sliding over every part of my body, so much so that I could almost feel the caress against my skin. I didn’t move a muscle as he knelt down at the edge of his bed and hooked his fingers under the waistband of his boxer briefs.
Lifting my ass off the bed made it easier for him to yank them off, and they disappeared somewhere behind his head. He spread his hands on my thighs, his fingers digging into the soft flesh as he pulled my legs apart, baring me to him.
His huff made goose bumps spread everywhere, but he didn’t move to touch me, just stared. I tried to wiggle my hips, a silent plea to him, and his head snapped up, his dark eyes widening.
“You’re fuckin' beautiful, Lola.”
The burn of my cheeks wouldn’t go unnoticed, not when he spoke like that while I was fully naked, spread out for him, on his bed. His fingers moved, dragging through my slit and hitting the bundle of nerves, but he didn’t concentrate there long. Instead, he slid his deft finger into me, causing me to close my eyes and soak in every touch he graced me with.
“More,” I begged, lifting my hips off the bed, searching for something unknown.
“More what?” he asked, his finger dipping in and out to a slow rhythm only he knew.
“I need more,” I panted, my hands gripping the comforter underneath me and twisting it.
“Where, Lola?” His finger pulled out, and he dragged it up to my clit, flicking over the nerve endings several times and then dipping back inside me. “Tell me what you want.”
I bit down on my bottom lip so hard I was sure I was going to draw blood any second. He was teasing me in the best way possible. “There. I need more…there.”
“Here?” he asked, pressing his thumb against my clit.
“Yesss.”
“You only had to ask,” he said, the cocky words dripping out of his mouth.
I opened my mouth, about to reply, but his lips closing over me had me speechless. He stroked his tongue all the way up, slowly, achingly slow, and sucked on my clit, drawing noises from me I never thought possible. My hand made its way to his head, gripping his hair and keeping him in place. I couldn’t let him stop, not when I was so close…
His other hand wormed its way underneath me, gripping my ass so hard it was sure to leave a bruise. He feasted on me like he hadn’t eaten in weeks and I was the only thing that would save him from starvation.
“That’s it, darlin',” he drawled, dipping a second finger inside me. “Let go. Let everything go.”
His lips latched on to me a second time, and I gripped his hair tighter, my back bowing off the bed as the burn started low in my stomach. I could feel it, right there, but it wasn’t until he flicked his tongue once more that I exploded.