I wanted to laugh, but I couldn’t make a sound as he dragged his thumb up the center of my core, circling the center of nerves. A wicked grin appeared on his lip as he leaned in, replacing his thumb with his mouth.
“Brock,” I cried out as he sucked—sucked deep and hard, drawing me in through the thin material. “Holy . . .”
He chuckled against me, and the rumble stole my breath. “You liked that, right?” He inched his fingers around the band. “I bet you will love it without these in the way.”
Oh God.
I didn’t have to respond, because we both knew the answer to that question.
My breath caught as he brought his hands down, taking the flimsy panties along with them, baring every inch of my skin. Brock rocked back on his haunches and looked up at me.
I fought the urge to cover myself.
He’d seen a lot of me, but not all of me, and this was my first with him, with anyone. Ben and I never really got fully naked. A bra stayed on, or a shirt. It was always dark, and he never, never looked at me like Brock was.
Like he wanted to eat me up.
I was soft in all the places he was hard, a lot softer. When I sat, there were most definitely rolls in places you really didn’t want to think about, but as he slid his hands down my arms and over my waist to my hips, he didn’t seem to notice or care.
“You’re beautiful,” he said, and he spoke the words like he meant them. “Fuck, I could come just looking at you.”
That sounded doubtful, but I liked hearing that. No, I loved hearing that.
Brock rose fluidly, dragging his hands up my legs and then over my waist. “Stay here.”
I did as he ordered and watched him back up. He never took his gaze from me as he reached into the nightstand and pulled out a small foil package. He tossed it on the bed. Still holding my gaze, he undid his pants and stripped down until he was as naked as me, and . . .
Oh my God.
I felt a little dizzy.
His body was beautiful, an artwork of color and designs, of dips and planes. I’d felt him before, knew that he was very well-endowed, but I still marveled on how he was that thick and that large. It was rather impressive. His cock twitched as I stared.
“I like that,” Brock said in a deep, husky voice. “I like you looking at me.”
The breath I took didn’t go very far as I forced my gaze to his. “You say I’m beautiful, but you . . .”
“I’m what?”
There were no words.
Walking to where I stood, he placed his hands on my hips. There was a glint to his deep brown eyes and a tilt to his sensual lips. The tips of my breasts grazed his chest. He lowered his mouth to my left ear and said, “I cannot wait to be inside you.”
I shivered as my eyes drifted shut. “Don’t wait.”
His cock jumped against my belly as he drew his thumbs along my jaw, tilting my head back. Fueled by his response, I said, “I don’t want to wait another minute.”
He made the sexiest sound ever as his hands clenched my hips. “Damn . . .”
Brock kissed me, slow and deep, drawing out a pulsing ache between my thighs as he turned me. He walked me backward until my legs touched the bed. With controlled pressure, he guided me down so I was sitting. I opened my eyes as his mouth left mine.
I stared up at him, breathless.
Smiling, he cupped one breast and smoothed his thumb over the rosy nipple. My heart was racing as he placed one knee on the bed. I reached out, wrapping my hand around the base of his cock. He was like hot steel covered in silk. I explored him from base to tip, marveling at the feel of him.
Brock groaned as he picked up the condom. I stroked him until he caught my wrist, pulling my hand away so he could slide the condom on. I scooted away from the edge, leaning back on my elbows in the bed.
His gaze flicked up, meeting mine as he rose over me. He stopped at my thighs, kissing me as he nudged my legs further apart with his shoulders. His mouth crept and I felt his tongue along the seam of my thigh.
Pulse pounding, my head fell back as my hand floated toward him. I sunk my fingers into his hair as his breath moved closer and closer. I tensed, letting out a low moan as his tongue dragged up the very center of me.
“I can never get enough of your taste,” he said, moving upward, nipping at the skin below my navel. “I could eat you for lunch and dinner.”
“I don’t think I . . . I would complain about that.”
“No.” His breath danced over the sensitized skin of my breast. “No, you would not.”
The head of his cock prodded at my entrance as his mouth closed over one breast and he palmed the other. I lost all ability to breathe as my body arched and I pressed against him. His tongue, his teeth, and those fingers sent stinging jolts of pure pleasure through me.
My grip on his hair increased as I curled one leg over his. “Brock,” I panted, impatient.
He lifted his head, bringing his mouth to mine. He kissed me, and when he drew back, he caught my bottom lip between his teeth. The edge of the medallion he wore slipped between my breasts.
I lifted my hips. “Please, Brock.”
“I love hearing you beg.” His hand slipped between us. “But you don’t need to beg me for this.”
I jerked as he finally, finally pushed in, and I couldn’t let myself think about how long I had wanted this from him, how long I had waited. There was such little room for thought as I had to see this, experience only this. I opened my eyes and watched as he entered me. There was something wholly sensual about doing so.
His lashes lifted and his gaze pierced mine. I was unprepared for the feral, possessive stare. “Keep watching,” he rasped out. “Fuck. You’re tight.”