“More,” she whispered as Chris lightly bit her nipple.
“More what?”
“More of you,” she said, sliding her palms down his body from his neck to the small of his back where she lingered awhile. His skin was so soft here, so touchable, so smooth. “More of this.” She lifted her pelvis meaningfully into his.
“Are you begging for sex?”
“Not yet. Should I?”
“Worth a try. Maybe it would work.”
“No guy has ever made me beg for it before.”
“Maybe I know it’s worth begging for.”
“You’re a little cocky, Chris. How did I not know that about you?”
“A little cocky?”
She smiled.
He rose up off her body, knelt over her hips and unzipped his jeans. He lowered them and his black boxer briefs to his thighs. With one hand he stroked himself over her.
“Okay,” she said breathlessly. “You’re a lot cocky.” When he started to raise his jeans up again—more teasing—she reached out and grabbed his wrists.
“Don’t,” she said. He said nothing, only looked at her. “Please don’t? Pretty please?”
“You’re not bad at begging.”
“How much begging would I have to do to get you naked?”
“Am I naked yet?”
“Not completely.”
“Then obviously you need to beg more.” Chris took her naked breasts in both of his hands and held them, squeezing them lightly and massaging them. “Don’t you?”
She couldn’t quite believe it. This was Chris Steffensen? The Chris Steffensen who only worked up the courage to kiss her after they’d gotten into the parental whiskey stash that night? The Chris who’d barely spoken in school except to his closest friends and even then never said more than necessary? He’d walked down the halls, face half-hidden by long blond hair, didn’t talk in class, didn’t put himself in anyone’s way and only really expressed himself with his fists when someone went after Dillon. How had that shy, quiet, intense teenage boy turned into this strong, confident, beautiful man? Ten years had been very kind to Chris. She could get used to being with a man like him.
“Please take your clothes off,” she said. “All of them. I want to see your body, because if the rest of it is as good as what I’ve already seen, I’m going to be the luckiest woman on earth tonight. And I’ve never been the luckiest woman on earth, and after the past couple of days, I think I’ve earned it. And even if I haven’t, I want it, anyway. Also...your cock is sexy as hell and I want to feel it on me and in me. If I need to earn it some way, just say the word.”
“The word.”
“You aren’t cocky. You’re arrogant.”
“Why is my cock not in your mouth? I could have sworn it was cocksucking time.”
“What time is it?” she asked.
He looked up at the clock on the wall over the woodstove.
“Ten fourteen.”
“It’s after cocksucking time,” she said. “Allow me to apologize for my tardiness.”
“Actions speak louder than words.”
Joey didn’t say another word. It was the sexiest thing she’d ever seen a man do in her life—pull down his pants to show her his cock after she’d made a “little cocky” remark. Sexy and smug and smoldering. He hadn’t said a word. He didn’t need to. He was big enough to impress her, and he’d known it. Quiet Chris. Shy Chris. Sweet, sensitive Chris. Had he always had this side to him even in high school? If she’d seen past the chain wallet, the long hair, the brooding silences, the drugs, maybe he would have been her first time instead of just her first kiss.