When I’m within reach, he grabs ahold of me and pulls me into his lap, and I let out a gasp as he settles my weight on top of him. Now I’m straddling him, my legs on either side of his hips, his torso still leaned back against my couch.
I changed out of my concert attire when we got back, and now I’m wearing leggings and a baggy sweatshirt. When Dex slips his hand under the hem of my sweatshirt and his fingertips graze my bare skin, it sends my pulse hammering.
For a moment, he just stares up at me, and I stare back, feeling that same magnetic pull I felt in Velvet last night. He’s like a tornado ripping through my town, and I’m standing in the eye of the storm, waiting for the cyclone to hit and sweep me away.
Slowly, Dex lifts one hand to cradle my face, and a moment later he’s drawing me in, pressing his mouth to mine, letting me feel the metal of his lip ring against my warm skin. He tastes like Sapporo, and when my tongue darts out to lap the flavor from his lips, he hardens beneath me.
The storm finally makes landfall. And it doesn’t care what it leaves in its wake.
Now my hands are in his hair, and his fingertips are digging into my hips. When he catches my bottom lip between his teeth, trapping my mouth against his, my panties get wet. I want to see him, to feel his skin, to trace the ink that adorns his body. So I reach for the hem of his tee like reaching for a portal into a forbidden world, and a small smile tugs at his lips as he breaks our kiss for just long enough to let me pull the shirt over his head.
I toss the white tee across the living room, then sit back to admire the tattoos ornamenting his skin. They’re all in black and gray, not a hint of colored ink to be found, and Dex shivers as I reach out and trail my fingertips delicately across his chest. There’s that tattoo that curls across his collarbone and up his neck, the one I saw yesterday. Now I can finally do what I wanted. Only this time, instead of tracing the ink with my fingers, I trace it with my mouth. My tongue drags across his skin. Tastes him. Savors him.
Beneath my lap, he throbs.
He reaches for my sweatshirt, and as he starts to pull it over my head and I feel the air hit my skin, I remember I’m not wearing a bra. For a moment, embarrassment seizes me, but then I’m bared before him.
His blue eyes take in the sight of me. I think to cover myself, to let my self-consciousness chase me right back into my sweatshirt. But then Dex traces one hand up my stomach, from my belly button to my sternum.
Abandoning my nerves, I soften beneath his fingertips.
His touch is fire, and I want to throw myself into the inferno.
He cups my breast, makes me catch my breath. The brush of his thumb across my nipple makes it harden. Then his mouth is on my skin, pressing kisses along both my breasts. His tongue flicks my nipple. I tip my head back and moan.
In one smooth motion, he wraps an arm around me and flips me onto my back so I’m lying on the plush living room rug. Then he’s kissing me again, and I’m wrapping my legs around his waist, trying to trap him so he can never let go.
God, I never want him to let go.
A laugh rumbles in his chest, and then his lips brush the shell of my ear, sending a shiver through my body. “What do you want, Monster?” he murmurs, tracing hearts on the side of my neck with his thumb.
When whispered like that, the little nickname he gave me feels like a prophecy foretelling danger, promising pain and pleasure and everything in between. I want him to say it again, to whisper it against every inch of my body until the touch of his lips is ingrained into my memory.
I never want to forget this, to forget him.
“You,” I manage to say, breathless with a mixture of want and fear.
When I told him I wasn’t a virgin, I wasn’t lying. The college boyfriend I had for all of six months may have taught me some things, but knowing just how experienced Dex must be makes me feel wholly unprepared—and yet I don’t want to stop, can’t stop. I need to know what he feels like almost as badly as I need to breathe.
He sits up, and my heart races as he brushes his fingers across my navel, down my low belly, and along the waistband of my leggings. My pulse pounds between my legs, my body aching for him to touch me, to teach me.
I’ll be his most willing student.
Slowly, so slowly, he grips the waistband of my leggings, starts edging them down. They glide across my hips, down my thighs, over my knees. Then he’s easing them off over my feet and tossing them across the room, leaving only my thong in place. He runs his hands along my shins, the backs of my knees, my bare thighs. I tingle everywhere he touches me.
And then he’s kissing me again, and I don’t know if he’s taking his time just for my benefit or because he enjoys it this way, but I revel in it. He could draw this out for hours, and I wouldn’t whisper a word of complaint.
I run my hands down his back, feel the muscles flexing along his ribs as he holds himself atop me, and dig my nails in until he growls.
“Jesus,” Dex says against my mouth, his body tensing up under my hands. He pulls away, his forearms braced on either side of my head as he stares down at me. “You drive me crazy, Nora.”
A flash of heat goes through me.
“I know the feeling,” I whisper, then raise my hand and brush my fingertips over his collarbone and across his chest. My gaze drops lower, to his ripped jeans, where his hard-on strains against the tight material.
Shifting onto one forearm, Dex trails his other hand across my breast, then down my stomach. He pauses at the edge of my panties, his gaze locked on mine. I bite my lip, breath getting heavy, and watch as his hand slips under the fabric.
The first brush of his fingertips across my sensitive skin is electric, and it makes me gasp. He’s gentle, slow. I lift my hips slightly to press myself against him, thirsty for more of his touch.
His fingers slip lower, tease me, and a smirk curls on his lips. “Why are you so wet?” he murmurs, and the flush that rises to my cheeks just makes him smile more.
I want to tell him that he does this to me, that I’ve wanted to be touched by him since that first day I saw him leaning against the doorframe, from the first time I heard his voice and noticed the flash of ink across his knuckles. Now those fingers, those beautifully tattooed fingers, are circling my entrance, and I let out a breath when one finally slips inside.
He brings his mouth to my nipple, his warm tongue and the touch of metal heaven against my skin. Closing my eyes, I let myself get lost in him, in the sensations of his fingers and lips. I keep my eyes closed as his mouth moves from my nipple, across my rib cage, and down to my hip bone. Then I finally open them.
My chest rises and falls rapidly as Dex brings one of my legs up and drapes it over his shoulder. He presses kisses along my inner thigh, and I curl my fingers into the thick rug as his mouth moves closer to the only still-clad part of me.
No, I’m not a virgin, but I’ve never done this before. College Boyfriend didn’t want to, said it was “too hard,” whatever that means, and I didn’t push.
But now Dex is trailing his tongue along the top edge of my thong, and he’s certainly making it look easy.
His blue eyes meet mine as he lifts my other leg onto his shoulder and reaches under me to slide the thong slowly off my hips. Then he’s slipping the fabric off one foot, followed by the other, and I’m lying completely naked on the living room floor.
His eyes rake over me, his tongue darting out to touch his lip ring. “Fuck,” he says. “You’re so sexy.”
Dex reaches for me, and when he catches my hand, he pulls me up and lifts me onto the couch. Kneeling before me, he drags my hips to the edge of the cushion and parts my legs.
I can feel my heart beating in my clit, and it throbs as he leans in close. My whole body tenses up as his mouth draws nearer to my skin. Slowly, he drags his tongue from my entrance to the top of my folds, and I squeal.
