His hands slid under her blouse, and skin met skin. She jumped at the contact, then immediately melted into his touch. His big, warm, strong hands traced her waist, her ribs, and cupped her lace-covered breasts again. And as she writhed to his touch, she didn’t care how slutty or bad this made her look. She needed it. Needed the contact, the escape, the affection. And between Sophia and work, this
was the only opportunity she’d had to get it in what felt like forever.
He drew her blouse up and over her head, making this situation suddenly very real. Her heart skipped an erratic pattern as he tossed her blouse on the sofa. Then his hands were back, exciting her. Claiming her. One stroked across her stomach, the other found the zipper at her hip. He pushed her skirt down until it dropped to her feet. And just like that, she was standing there in bra, panties, and heels, her image reflected in the dark windows.
Thank God for the wine. Without it, she’d be immobilized with vulnerability.
“Look at you,” he whispered in her ear. “I knew you were hiding something special beneath that suit.”
Nothing special, just white lace underwear. It wasn’t even Victoria’s Secret. But his hands stroked over her like she was made of porcelain, and Tessa felt herself grow wet. Her nerves danced just beneath her skin and responded instantly to the feel of his hands sliding over her ass. He stroked and squeezed, his heavy breaths raspy. His hands lifted her ass and separated her cheeks, then he leaned into her, rocking his slacks-covered cock into the crease.
Lust surged through her sex, and Tessa moaned at the feel of him.
“I love the sounds you make,” he whispered in her ear, rocking against her, making her push back. “I love the way you move against me.”
And she loved his voice. His heat. His strength.
Ian sighed a moan against her shoulder, brought one hand to her stomach again, then let it glide right between her legs.
“Oh…” Her surprise emerged in a whimper, and her body arched to his touch.
“Mmm, baby, you’re wet for me.” His voice, a soft, low hum, skittered down her spine. “So hot.”
His fingers barely skated over her silk panties, creating maddening whispers of teasing pressure against her throbbing sex. “You’re swollen already.”
One finger barely touched her clit again and again as she rocked her hips, searching for friction and pressure. So hungry for release, so fast. Maybe it was the wine. Maybe it was her level of need.
Maybe it was just Ian and his sexual charisma.
He pressed a kiss to the curve of her neck and breathed deep. “God, you smell like sun and flowers.”
She was so high, her head floated. Her body sang. All she could focus on was the feel of his big body at her back, his hands creating sensations she was sure she’d never felt. He tightened one arm across her belly, holding her against him, while his other hand grew heavier between her legs. Finally, the pressure she needed. Hot currents of need rolled through her sex, making her moan.
“Let me hear you,” he told her. “Tell me how good it is.”
Tessa had jumped the fast track to release. His heavy, confident fingers circled and circled and circled, then stroked and stroked and stroked, inching her toward bliss. The feel of his hand on her was electric.
“Perfect,” she managed. “Perfect, perfect, perfect.”
She rocked and rolled her hips, against his cock, into his hand. Ian growled and closed his teeth on the skin of her neck and grabbed her sex. The sudden roughness pushed her right to the edge, and she cried out—in surprise, in pleasure, in need. Instinctively, she released the sofa and gripped his wrist, so thick and hard beneath her fingers.
He released the hand between her legs, leaving her light-headed, dizzy, and trembling on the edge.
“Want me to stop?” he asked just before sliding his tongue from the base of her neck to her ear, then taking the lobe between his teeth.
“No, no,” she breathed, intoxicated. “God, no.”
His fingers traced a path across her panties again, teasing the swollen bud of her clit. Tessa whimpered, and her hand flexed on his arm. The tendons and muscles moved to the rhythm of his fingers stroking her, an erotic combination.
“You like me touching you?” he asked.
“Yes.”
“You like feeling me touch you?”
“Yes.”
“Do you want my fingers inside you?”