The Boy Next Door
That’s exactly how it feels when I’m with Colton. There’s no other way to describe it.
He’s all I can see.
All I’m able to think about.
It’s addictive.
It’s the rough scrape of hands sliding beneath the hem of my dress as it rides up my thighs that grounds me in the here and now. The tips of his fingers dance across my flesh, inching their way beneath the fabric. Air gets trapped in my throat when they stroke over my panties.
The warm August air wafting over my flushed cheeks isn’t nearly enough to cool them. I’m not sure if anything can extinguish the heat that has exploded to life in my core. As he drops to a crouch in front of me, I know exactly how this scenario will play out. I also know that I’m not going to prevent it from happening. I don’t have that kind of strength. If I’m being completely honest with myself, I don’t want to stop it.
I want him.
And I want this.
Tomorrow will be soon enough to deal with the ramifications of my stupidity.
Colton’s hands inch their way upward, lifting the dress until my underwear is exposed. He leans forward, brushing a soft kiss against the cotton. His fingers hook into the elastic band on each side of my hips before dragging the fabric down my thighs, past my knees, until it’s stretched taut between my ankles. I expel a shaky breath from my lungs as anticipation coils like a spring deep in the pit of my gut.
Actually, the excitement unfurling inside me is much lower.
Carefully he lifts one foot, removing the material that serves as protection before repeating the movement on the other side. In silence, he stuffs the flimsy scrap into the pocket of his jeans.
His face hovers no more than six inches from the heat of my core. Every inhale has him breathing me in before exhaling a warm puff of air against my bare flesh. A thick shudder works its way through me as his gaze stays focused straight ahead.
“You’re so fucking beautiful,” he rasps.
My heart jackhammers a painful staccato against my ribcage. My gaze stays locked on him, watching every move, taking in every detail about this moment. Wanting to etch it into my memory so that I’ll be able to take it out anytime I want to revisit it.
Time stretches between us until it becomes unbearable, and I shift restlessly beneath his hands. When he finally leans forward, I expect him to attack my aching flesh in much the same manner he assaulted my mouth a handful of minutes ago, devouring me in one hungry gulp. Instead, he buries his nose against me before inhaling deeply. It’s as if he’s trying to breathe in my very essence.
“No matter how much pussy I attempted to lose myself in after we broke up, it was never you.”
My breath hitches at the admittance.
With unhurried movements, as if we’re not standing in the back of a crowded parking lot, he rubs his face against me. The slight stubble on his cheeks abrades my delicate flesh, releasing a thousand tiny shivers inside the confines of my belly.
My spine arches as I give in to the chaos he’s created.
Just when I don’t think I can take another moment of this sweet torture, his lips feather against me. My skin is so over-sensitized and achy. I want to scream with the impending storm that pushes its way to the surface. The first flick of his velvety softness sends me soaring, and I groan, my head rolling back as my eyes shutter so I can focus on his touch.
He draws one plump lip between his teeth and nibbles at it before repeating the maneuver on the other side. His tongue thrusts into my throbbing heat, falling into a devastating rhythm. When I begin to spiral, he backs off, allowing his soft breath to drift over me as if attempting to cool my lust. Before I can utter a word, he circles my clit with his tongue, pushing me once again relentlessly toward orgasm.
I’m moments away from splintering apart when he eases back for a second time. Frustration explodes inside me. I can’t take much more of his teasing. My fingers curl with the need to claw at him, to pull him against me and finish what he started. I open my mouth to protest when he lifts one heeled foot from the ground and plants it on his shoulder so that I’m spread impossibly wide. Even though the night air is warm, it cools my damp flesh, and a shudder works its way through me at the erotic image we must make.
“Fucking gorgeous.” As he presses forward, my leg bends, exposing every delicate inch for him to feast upon.
The first swipe of his tongue nearly sends me hurtling over the edge of insanity. My fingers tangle in his hair to hold him in place as he nibbles at me. With his face buried against my heat, he drives me ruthlessly toward oblivion until I have no choice but to hurtle blindly over the edge.