her again, I nudge her thighs apart and dig my fingers into her denim-clad hips. I kiss and suck along her slim waist and belly button.
Her back bows off the mattress. “Please, take them off.”
I press the heel of my hand against the apex of her thighs. Her hips jerk, and I suck on her belly until a red mark blooms on her milky skin. I love seeing it there. Knowing I left it. Knowing she’s mine.
It’s time to lose the jeans.
I pop open the top button, drag the zipper down, and try to tug the fabric below her hips. Jesus, are these jeans tight. I get them below her ass, below the white lace underwear begging to be ripped off, and the things get stuck.
She wiggles. “Harder, Sam.”
Harder. Hearing that word from her pretty pink lips makes me all kinds of crazy. There’s a wide rip in the knee of her jeans that would make this mission a hell of a lot easier. Without a second thought, I grab the fabric and tear it straight to the ankle.
She squeals and pushes up on her elbows. Wide-eyed, she stares at the destroyed denim. “Leigh’s going to kill me. These were hers.”
As far as I’m concerned, that’s an added bonus. “I’ll get her another pair.”
With that, I find a slit in the other leg, rip the shit out of it, pull off what’s left of the jeans, and toss the tattered material on the floor. She giggles at the sight. All humor fades when I hook my thumbs in her underwear and guide the material down. Standing above her, I get choked up again, my emotions always grazing the surface. So damn beautiful. She has the hips of a woman, not the waiflike lines I often see on chicks. A smattering of freckles decorates her pale skin, constellations guiding me home, and the necklace I gave her rests between her breasts.
I wish I had Nina’s gift for words. Beautiful doesn’t cut it.
I need to get closer, feel her against me, but tonight’s not the night I lose myself completely and sink into her. I’m not sure where this self-control comes from, but I know she hasn’t had much experience. I want to ease her into things.
Gripping her waist, I toss her gently across the bed. She lands with a soft “Oof,” and I’m on my knees prowling toward her in seconds. When I have her caged below me, my hands on either side of her head, I devour her swollen lips again and lower my dick where it was in that tent all those weeks ago. This time she’s wet and bare below me with nothing but my boxers between us. Her knees spread wider. Her lids flutter. I press my dick against her. Hard.
I rock forward, and she cries, “Sam.”
My raspy name on her lips, her soft skin under me, the way her hips move in time with mine. Christ. Knowing I’ll likely come in my boxers again, I push to the side, never taking my lips from hers. Her small hands drag up and down my chest until I press closer. She winds them around my neck.
I flatten my palm on her belly and slide it down, down, down. Soft. Slick. Drenched. Holy fuck. “Do I do this to you, Nina? Is this how wet I make you?”
“Yes, yes, yes,” she chants, arching her hips from the mattress, urging my fingers where she wants them.
Sucking a trail down her neck, I explore every inch of her perfect breasts while I slide one then two fingers into all that beautiful wetness. My fingers glide in and out, and I work her into a frenzy with my thumb. She pants and moans and bucks. Her knees fall farther open, and her leg slides against mine—against my rough flesh.
I freeze.
Those catlike eyes launch a thousand silent questions at me, but all she says is, “Sam?” My gaze darts down to our legs, and she follows the movement. “They’re perfect. You’re perfect,” she whispers and rubs our legs together.
I can’t believe I ever doubted her.
Her hips move, asking for more. I press the flat of my thumb against her best part and glide my fingers deeper inside, wanting her to explode around me.
Next thing I know, she’s tracing a pattern down my abs, under my waistband, and I groan. She fists my throbbing length, and I hiss out a breath. Then we’re moving in time. Together. I rock into her soft hand, and