She lets out the sexiest murmur as our lips touch. A greedy sigh that’s both an invitation and a prelude of how this is going to be. Of how she needs it.
Wants it.
I dust my lips over her mouth.
Technically, it’s a soft kiss.
But what it truly is, is a reminder. That I’ve got this. That I can handle her pleasure. That I can set the pace.
I set it with my hands, cupping her cheeks.
With my body, aligned to hers.
And then with my hips, as I push my pelvis against her, slamming her to the wall.
“Oh God,” she gasps.
I break the kiss. “You like that?”
“I do.”
I lift a brow. “Want more?”
“Please,” she says, her voice trembling and matching her shoulders, her breasts.
This woman is a riddle inside a conundrum. She’s bold and direct on the one hand, and she’s borderline submissive on the other.
Taking her wrists, I lift them above her head, pinning them to the wall, then I seal my mouth to hers.
This time, I’m not slow.
I don’t tease.
I don’t taunt.
I take.
I take her lips, claiming them. My tongue slides into her mouth, and I kiss her hungrily, exploring her, owning her.
I press my pelvis hard against her, letting her feel what she’s done to me, making sure she’s well aware of what she’s doing to my cock.
She gets the message. Oh hell, does she, judging from the way she grinds back, her hips seeking friction as we move.
The need to touch her overwhelms me, so I drop her wrists, run my hands down to her waist, and slide them under her top.
I break the kiss as she moans against me, letting her head fall back. I dive in, licking a path up her neck as my hands travel underneath her shirt. Her arms loop around my neck. “You’re a really good kisser,” she murmurs, sounding lost in lust.
I smile against her skin as I map a path of hot, open-mouthed kisses up to her ear. “It’s because I want you so fucking much. It’s because I like having my lips on you. It’s because you taste fantastic.”
She trembles. “Couch. Now. Please.”
I lift her up, toss her over my shoulder, and carry her to the living room.
“Wow. You really took my directive to heart,” she says in an admiring tone.
“Which one? You did give a lot,” I tease.
“I think it was the one where I said to do bad things to me.”
“Listen to a woman. Those are my words to live by. And when a woman says what she wants, a man ought to take that as the goddamn gift that it is.”
I set her down on her ass on the couch, kneel in front of her, and unzip her boots. “Now listen to me, Bryn. If something bothers you, say ‘Snoopy,’ and I’ll stop. If you like something, say whatever the fuck you want. Work for you?”
She nods several times. “Yes, that does.”
I reach for her ankle, remove one black boot, and rest it on the floor. “Good. Then right now, I’m going to have you the way you want.”
“What way is that?” she asks, breathless as I remove her other boot.
The way I’ve always wanted a woman.
This kind of give-and-take is everything I’ve craved, and everything I haven’t had.
The chemistry between us is electric and has been since the moment we locked eyes. Was it kindled by some kind of innate push and pull, some subliminal sense of what we wanted behind closed doors? I don’t know the answer, but I’m damn happy to find out.
I raise my face and rake my eyes over her. “Get on your stomach, Bryn.”
Her green eyes go wild. “Yes. I want that.”
