Touch by Touch (Riggins Brothers 4)

The universe hates me. That’s why.

“You all right?” Conrad asks. His lips are next to my ear, and although I knew we were sitting close, I didn’t realize we were that close.

“Yes. Good. Fine,” I assure him like a bumbling idiot fumbling over my words.

“Come here.” His arm slides around my shoulders.

Snuggling into his chest, I try to concentrate on the show, but it’s hard when he’s running his fingers through my hair. If I thought I was turned on before, it’s tenfold now. I try my hardest not to squirm, but it’s useless as I rub my thighs together.

“Aspen.” Conrad’s voice is husky, and I’m half afraid to look at him. I know I won’t be able to resist him. The simple touches, the kisses all day today, it’s been a version of extended foreplay, and I’m about to combust.

Holding strong, I ignore him and keep my eyes glued to the television, even though I haven’t any idea of what’s happening on the screen.

“Hey,” he whispers. No longer able to ignore him, I lift my head to find him watching me intently. “So beautiful,” he whispers.

Resting my hand against his cheek, I relish in the feel of his beard beneath my palm. I’ve never been into men with this much facial hair, but as with everything else, that rule doesn’t seem to apply with Conrad.

When his head lowers, I close my eyes and just feel. The press of his lips is soft yet firm. He doesn’t seem to be hurried as he lazily strokes his tongue against my own. When he nips at my bottom lip with his teeth, I know I need to be closer. Climbing to my knees, I straddle his lap. Conrad wastes no time sliding his hand behind my neck and deepening the kiss.

“So sweet,” he murmurs against my lips.

The hussy in me is strong when it comes to him. I grind my hips against his erection, which has us both grappling for the other. “More,” I say, holding his face in the palm of my hands and kissing him with everything I have.

No words are passed between us when he slides his hands under his sweatshirt and unclasps my bra. Lifting my arms up over my head as far as I can without destroying the fort ceiling, together, we manage to wrangle his sweatshirt off me. His touch is sure as he slides the straps of my bra over my shoulders.

“Damn,” he murmurs once my bra is discarded. When his hands cup my breasts, I tilt my head back and let the feel of his thumbs brushing over my nipples wash over me. At this point, I’m certain there is nothing he could do to me that I wouldn’t enjoy.

“Aspen, look at me. Please.” There is a hint of pleading in his tone. Lifting my head, I stare into his eyes. Thanks to the soft glow of the fire and the TV, I can see him perfectly. “I need to taste them.” His thumbs make another pass on my breasts.

“Are you asking for permission?” He nods, swallowing hard. Leaning in close, our mouths barely a breath apart, I whisper, “Permission granted.” I kiss him, but he’s having none of that. He pulls away and moves us to where I’m lying on the mountain of blankets with him hovering over me.

When his mouth closes around my nipple and his tongue takes over, I can do nothing but grip his forearms and hold on for the ride. With an audible pop, he releases one breast only to feast on the other with his lips, tongue, and teeth.

“Please.” I’m fully aware I’m begging, and I’m good with that as long as he doesn’t stop.

“Please what?” There’s desire and humor in his voice.

“Don’t stop.”

“Wasn’t planning on it.” His lips trail down my stomach until he reaches my leggings. This time he doesn’t stop to ask for permission. He sits back on his knees and pulls the fabric from my body. “Matching.” He grins when he sees my panties. The purple lace does indeed match my purple lace bra that he removed.

I shrug, the best I can lying down, and smile up at him. What I don’t tell him is that I’ve been thanking my lucky stars that I packed all matching sets, and when I’ve gotten dressed since being here, I think about him. This morning I wondered if he liked the color purple.

He moves next to me, his strong hands roaming over my body. “Even though it would kill me, you still have time to stop this.”

“Wh-What?”

“I’ve already had a taste of you. If I were to have more…” His hand lightly traces over the waistband of my panties. “I don’t know if I’ll be able to stop.”

“I don’t want you to stop.”

“You sure?”

Instead of using my words to answer him, I grab his hand and guide it beneath the lace fabric to where I need his touch the most.