My pulse hammers as he completely overwhelms me. Right here in my living room, pressed against the wall.
Somehow, his hands find their way to my lower back, then around to my hips where his skillful hands start to pull up the simple cotton skirt I’m wearing. Cool air hits my thighs, then Aaron’s palm is pressed right to my core.
I gasp, my hips shooting forward, and I can’t help the tiny grinding motion I make. Aaron laughs darkly at my response. With his breath on my neck causing shivers, his finger works under the elastic of my panties and strokes through my wet folds.
“Oh God,” I moan, my head falling back and thunking hard against the wall.
A long, thick finger slides into me and my muscles contract hard around him, gripping and sucking him in deeper.
“Christ, Clarke,” he mutters through gritted teeth. “So responsive, baby.”
He has no clue. I’ve never felt anything like this before, and I haven’t the foggiest idea why. He’s not the first man I’ve passionately made out with, nor the first to finger me.
I suspect it has something to do with the total package that is simply Aaron Wylde. The player who usually never gives the same woman his attention twice. The man who has listened to my darkest, most humiliating secret, and validated my feelings. The celebrity who is as down to earth as I could ever imagine someone famous to be.
And finally, the guy who has taken his time to make me so ready for this moment that I’m ready to climb him like a tree so I can ride his hand.
“More,” I manage to squeak out in a plaintive request or through harsh wheezing. I’m not sure which, but it didn’t sound pretty.
I get another dark laugh from Aaron, then another finger. His mouth ravages me again in a kiss so deep I can only hang on while letting him do his worst.
It’s when his thumb comes into play, alternately strumming my clit between the deep pump of his fingers inside me, that I start to get a little crazy.
“Aaron,” I moan, turning my face away from his kiss. “Please… I need you inside me.”
“Not even close to getting there, Clarke,” he mutters, his hand gripping my hair and holding my head still so he can claim my lips again.
Not even close? How can he say that? My body is ready. I have barely touched him, yet I can feel his thick erection intermittently pressing into my belly as my lower half wiggles and squirms around his hand between my legs.
It’s usually at this point when a man gets me worked up that I beg for him to get inside me… and he obliges.
Aaron doesn’t seem to be in any rush at all, though, and it makes me realize he’s definitely different from anyone I’ve ever been with. He’s not into instant gratification, and there’s something so alpha, so sexy, about that I can feel my orgasm starting to brew just from the revelation.
Well, because of what his fingers and thumb are doing, too, but still… the knowledge Aaron is so strong, capable, and in control manipulates my body just as much as his actions.
I cry out when Aaron stretches me with a third finger, pushing them in deep and when he pulls them out, it’s to concentrate all that wetness he just pulled from me right at my clit. His fingers rub and flick and pinch. He flutters them quickly, exerting just enough pressure to keep my orgasm elusive, which forces me into a much more willing participant to torture than I care to be.
Now I’m practically humping his hand while gripping onto his shoulders. Aaron pulls back from me, giving me a respite long enough to look down in between our bodies. I watch his face darken, filling with a feral appreciation of how wild he’s driving me, then he growls, “That’s it, Clarke. Show me how much you want it.”
God, I want it so bad. There’s a slight flash of shame when I finally beg, “Please, Aaron, let me come.”
Aaron’s eyes snap to mine and whatever he sees on my face reflects back on his as sheer determination and focus. His head dips, his mouth covering mine as his fingers attack my clit. There’s no soft-as-petal caresses now—he all-out ravages me, right between my legs.
The force of my orgasm catches me so unaware I shriek when I come, and it sounds as if I’m in pain.
But I’m not.
I’m free and breaking apart so fabulously, so much harder than I ever have before. The world could end right now, and I’d go happily into the oblivion.
“Room?” Aaron grunts and while I hear the word clearly, I don’t understand it at all.
“Room?” I repeat dully, my body still spasming with ripples of pleasure as his finger lazily strokes me.