Dirty Thoughts - Megan Erickson Page 0,17
man.
She squeezed his shoulders, fingers pressing into the muscle through the thin layer of his T-shirt. He moaned against her lips, and she opened her mouth. He went for it, delving his tongue inside her mouth, licking into her, tasting her, inhaling her. And God, maybe they were different people than they had been but this . . . this was the same. This hunger for each other, the intensity with which their bodies reacted in each other’s presence. It was the same, if not magnified.
As his hands lowered down her neck, she wondered what else Cal could do now that he was all man. Those strong arms, those thick legs. How would he fuck? She could think dirty thoughts about him now, because his hands were doing dirty things to her body.
Those palms were moving over the swell of her breasts, and a thumb flicked her left nipple through the thin material of her dress and bra. She whimpered and rolled her hips, feeling the hard heat of him encased in denim between her legs.
She could still turn Cal on. She could still make him hard. It was empowering.
He broke the kiss and leaned back, watching his hands as they skimmed her ribs, spanned her waist, and then gripped her hips.
She liked watching him look at her, his eyes full of mercury heat. His fingers dug into her, and he gently guided her, rubbing her onto himself. His jeans were rough on the skin of her thighs, and the seam was chafing the skin raw on the inside of her knees, but she didn’t care. She dug her fingers into his chest further, using her nails, because if she was going to have marks from this, then he’d have them too.
He licked his lips, his eyes still on his lap. “Lift up your dress, Jenna.”
Her breath left her lungs on a whoosh. His voice was low and firm and so confident. This was what he’d been lacking when they were teenagers and frankly, this was what every man after him had been lacking too.
Cal knew what he wanted and wasn’t ashamed to ask for it. Her nipples hardened, and she was sure he could see them through her dress. She was wet, but even if she hadn’t been astride him, she would have been wet just from those words.
She uncurled her nails from his chest and lowered her hands. She placed her palms on her knees and then slowly ran them up her legs. She had goose bumps, not because she was cold but because every single inch of her body was hypersensitive to Cal’s gaze, his touch.
He was watching her hands and when they reached the edge of her dress, he sucked in a breath.
She paused and bit her lip.
His tilted his head to the side and lifted his gaze to her. “Show me.”
She curled her fingers around the hem as she worried her lip between her teeth. He was fully clothed, and she was straddling him, about to lift up her dress. His command pulled at something inside of her to obey, and so she did, skimming that light fabric up her thighs. He dropped his hands to her knees and watched his lap as she pulled up, up until the lower half of her dress was balled up at her waist.
She was wearing a white lace thong. Anything else might have been visible through her dress. Without her dress covering it, the air hit the damp fabric, and she moaned.
Cal didn’t move. He was staring at her, at the small scrap of lace that covered her. The muscles in his jaw bulged as he flexed them, and his thumbs dug into the soft skin of her inner thighs.
He swallowed and licked his lips, leaving them parted. His hands began to move, following the same path hers had moments before. He stopped when his thumbs dipped into the crease where her legs met her body.
She tried to keep her breathing steady, but not knowing what he’d do next was driving her crazy. Her chest was rising and falling with her heaving breaths, and she wanted to scream, until he lifted his right hand and ran the backs of his fingers between her legs.
She shuddered at the touch. She was wet and swollen and so sensitive, she didn’t think it would take much to set her off.
He leaned his head back on the headrest and finally, his gaze met hers. Not breaking eye contact, he moved his thumb