An iPod plays on the nightstand and I grin when I hear the music. “Madness” by Muse.
“Did you time that song to be playing for the moment you got me in your bedroom?”
“Maybe I did,” he says with a wink, and then stands back to rake his eyes over me, taking in my jeans and black sweater. I know they won’t be on me for long. His eyes are darker as he drinks me in, and I watch him as he reacts to me, his breathing intensifying and I haven’t even taken a thing off. I don’t think I’ll ever stop enjoying the way he looks at me, the way his eyes sear into me and he memorizes me with his heated gaze.
I want that from him. I want him to know every part of me by heart, and yet still want to discover me again and again. And I know he wants that too.
“I’m kind of nervous,” I admit in a soft voice, unsure where it’s coming from.
“Don’t be. You’re with me. I’ll always take care of you.” He steps forward, threading his fingers into my hair. I close my eyes and lean into his hands, as he laces them through my long hair. Then he gives a quick gentle tug. I open my eyes, and there’s that mischievous expression on his face.
“You’re going to have those hands in my hair all night, aren’t you?”
“I’m going to have my hands everywhere on you.”
“You already have. I think it’s my turn to get my hands on you.”
I grab the hem of his t-shirt and pull up. He raises his arms, letting me take his shirt off. Sharp, hot tingles race through me as I run my palms over his toned shoulders, cut biceps, and his fabulous forearms that are strong from the workouts he does in his boxing gym. He’s such a fascinating man to me—he works in the arts, and he works out with a punching bag. I love the incongruities in him, how he can fit seamlessly in at an elegant reception and how he can hold his own in a rough and tumble world, too.
He draws in a deep breath and sighs as I traverse his muscles with my hands, learning how they feel, uncovering the ridges and hard planes of his body. Then my fingertips reach the waistband of his jeans, dancing around the edge, tapping out a fast rhythm of desire.
His breath quickens, he opens his eyes, grabs my h*ps hard, and slams me against him. “That’s enough playing around, Jill. I need to have you now. I’ve been a very patient man and have been waiting for you long enough.”
His eyes flash feral and wild, alive with a masculine power that makes me want to be overtaken. My body aches to be under him, to be filled by him.
He swivels me around, backs me up to the bed. My knees hit the edge and I sink down. He grabs the bottom of my sweater and yanks it off, then reaches around to unhook my bra in seconds flat. He stares hungrily at my br**sts and my ni**les harden from how he looks at my body like he wants to taste and lick and touch every inch of me. Then his hands are on my br**sts, kneading them, squeezing them. He feathers his hands down my stomach, unzipping my jeans quickly and tugging them off as I kick off my short boots.
He places one hand on my belly, and pushes me down on the bed, then shakes his head appreciatively. “You on my bed. This I have wanted since I met you.”
“Really? Did you think about this when I first sang for you?” I scoot back and he climbs up, as if he’s prowling his way toward me. I love the way he talks to me during sex, how he’s always telling me what he wants to do, and I can’t resist going fishing for more of his sexy, dirty mouth. Because it’s yet another thing I’d never expect from him. And yet another thing I crave. Those filthy words from this classy man.
“No, back when I saw you in Les Mis, I imagined you completely na**d in my bed and coming for me. Let’s make that happen.”
He tugs off my panties, and we’re still in this same uneven zone where I’m undressed and he’s only halfway there, but hell if I care, as he presses his hands on the inside of my thighs, spreads my legs wide open, and brings his lips to where I’m aching for him. One kiss, one lick, and I am inside out with pleasure. I arch my back, lifting my h*ps to his face, desperate, terribly desperate for more of him as he caresses me with his talented tongue. His lips are so soft and his tongue draws the most delirious lines across me so that my vision goes blurry with the exquisite pleasure surging through my body. I moan and pant and grab hard at his hair, and I can hear him groaning too as he tastes me, licks me, tortures me with that tongue that I want to feel all over me.
His hands grip my ass, and he tugs me even closer to his mouth, like he can’t get enough of me, and it’s so intimate and intense the way he devours me. I don’t need fingers this time, because with one more flick of his tongue against my throbbing center I am his, as the waves of pleasure ripple through me. I call out his name many times over, and I swear I dig my nails into his skull as I come hard and fast.
He layers kisses on my belly and my hips, and my legs are still trembling from the aftershocks. He travels up my body with his mouth, leaving a trail of kisses between my br**sts and the hollow of my throat. He has the most satisfied look on his face. “You’re like a drug to me. I’m not sure I’ll ever be able to get enough of my fix. I’m going to need more and more hits and even so I’ll only grow more addicted to you.”
“Good. I’ll be your enabler. I want you to be hooked,” I say, because I love these words, I love the reassurance.
Then he stands, and I push up on my elbows, watching as he unbuttons his jeans. My mouth is literally watering because I want him so badly. I want to see him in all his na**d glory, and I watch him strip as if I have a front row seat to the best show in the house as he takes off his jeans. He’s wearing nothing but boxer briefs, and I crawl forward to the edge of the bed, kneel, and push them down.
His erection springs free, thick and hard and totally f**king beautiful. Heat surges through me and I run my teeth over my lips as I roam my eyes over him. Strong legs, smooth stomach, all those hard lines, leading to the V that draws me back down to what I want most. I take his c**k in my hands, thrilled to be touching him without any limits now. He groans and grabs my hand, gripping me tighter around him, moving my palm up and down on his hard length.
“God, it feels so good to have you touching me,” he says in a hot, hungry voice because he’s held out for so long. His breathing shallows and he closes his eyes as he rocks into my hand. I don’t want to stop touching him, but the need to have him inside of me is so intense.
“I want you,” I whisper as I let go of him in my hands so I can have him between my legs. He inches me back on the bed, lowering himself onto me. I feel him hard against my thigh, and then his hand is on the back of my leg, opening me up, making room as he settles between my legs.