Seeing as how I was now studying them, I counted five in total, ranging in size from a dime to a penny.
What was even more interesting was the fact that there was bare skin under them, not panties.
Was she wearing any?
Oh, shit, maybe she was wearing a thong?
I couldn’t tell you how long I stared at them, hoping she’d shift and I’d get an answer to my question, but I couldn’t look away from them.
Almost like I had no control, my hand reached out and skimmed over them, going from material to skin, over and over again.
“What are you doing?” she snickered, not getting up from her position. “That’s not helping with the painting.”
“Fuck the painting.”
With one tug, I had the back of them just under her ass and the answer to my question right in my face. A thong. A bright white lace thong.
The memory of how tight she was around the tip of my dick this morning came back to me, and I swear I could feel it right then. To be honest, it’d been going around my head all day, but now that she was right in front of me, I desperately wanted to finish what we’d started.
Not looking away from the thin string between her cheeks, I skimmed the tip of my forefinger down it, starting at the very top and ending just as the gusset of the panties began.
“So soft,” I murmured, tracing back up again. “So smooth.”
“Logan,” she whispered, her voice trembling slightly.
This time, I pushed my fingers under the waistband and pulled the panties down to join her shorts under her butt, hearing the thud of the small roller in her hand hitting the floor as I did it.
“This time, I don’t even care if there’s a fire. We’re not being interrupted.”
The words would be funny if I wasn’t in the position I was in. I was as serious as a heart attack. The place could be burning down, and I still wasn’t going to stop.
Her back twitched as her right shoulder dipped down, but then her shorts and underwear were sliding down her thighs to the floor, and I realized she’d pulled the front down so she could get free of them altogether.
I did one last skim with the tips of my fingers over one of her cheeks, before slowly trailing them down to her entrance.
“I don’t think I’ve ever wanted anything more in my entire life,” I rasped, dipping the tip of my middle finger inside her and groaning.
Her body jerked at the move and there was a soft thud, but then she was standing up with her back to my chest still, and pulling my head down toward hers with one arm. The position should’ve been awkward, but somehow it wasn’t. It was handy because now I could reach around the front of her and play with her clit—which was precisely what I did, smiling into the kiss when she gasped in my mouth.
“Take your shorts off.”
Unfortunately, mine weren’t as easy as hers were to remove, seeing as how I had jockey shorts with a tight elastic waistband on them, specifically designed not to budge, but I made it happen and kicked them off.
With my hands free again, I went back to what I’d been doing and trailed a path from her belly button down to her pussy, stopping when my fingers reached the wetness waiting for them.
It was exhilarating to know that just kissing her and being this close to her had done this. That I’d done this to her.
Gently separating her folds with my fingers, I used my middle one to circle her clit, while my free hand went under her t-shirt and cupped her breast over the lace of her bra.
Before I could do anything else, she spun around and hopped up, wrapping her legs around my waist. The move caught me off guard and I stumbled for a second before leaning her back into the wall for balance.
“Move faster,” she begged against my mouth.
“I need to make sure you’re ready so I—”
Pulling her face away, she snapped, “I’m ready. Jesus Christ, Logan, I’ve been ready since this morning. If was any more ready, I’d be a freaking puddle, so can you just do me already.”
Later on—much later on—I’d remember the words and find humor in them. At that moment, though, they were like the starting gun for a race.