fit my frame. They’re usually the first thing a guy notices, and I watch as his eyes lower. His gaze lingers on my full C-cups, and a long exhalation leaves his chest. My body tingles in response, my nipples tightening at his slow perusal. I bask in the way he stares and then moves up to lock eyes with me.
“Beautiful.” His fingers push the lace down until the bra is under me, lifting my breasts up. My breath freezes when he latches on to one of my nipples with his mouth. I groan, splayed out against the wall while he caresses me, tugging down on my nipples, sharp sensations reverberating through my body. My hips writhe against his.
He sucks each breast, going back and forth, the scruff of his jaw bound to make my skin red, but I don’t care. I grapple with his leather jacket. He leans back for half a second to toss it off, and I’ve never been happier to see a good piece of clothing gone. Grasping the fabric of his T-shirt, I shove it up until I see his chest, my mouth watering at the smooth expanse of muscled, sculpted skin. He has part of a dragon tattoo on his left shoulder that I imagine curls around to his back. Part of me wants to trace all of it with my fingers, but I’m in a hurry exploring his chest, tasting the muscles there, my tongue sucking on his collarbone the way he did mine earlier. My fingers dig into his waist, pulling him closer. I lick his nipple and eventually he pulls my mouth back to his—it’s so divine—and we kiss, our mouths open, licking and sucking, until I can’t think.
Until I can’t be held responsible for what I do.
“Sugar.”
He says my name like it’s a prayer as his hand slips under the waistband of my leggings and plays with the lace of my black panties. He touches my mound on top of my underwear, his fingers dancing over my clit.
“Yes,” I say, and he closes his lids and bites his lip, giving me one, lone finger inside my panties. My back arches involuntarily toward him, aching for more.
His mouth plays with my nipple while he strokes inside me, and sounds build up in my throat, raw and primal. I don’t know who I am right now, but I know I’m wired to him, devouring every hitch in his breath, every movement of his fingers.
“Please,” I beg, and he grunts, knowing what I want.
He gives me two fingers, delving inside my wetness then gliding back out. Over and over, he repeats the torture, and my legs open as far as I can get them in my leggings. “Fuck.” He exhales against my neck. “You’re wet.” He teases his thumb over my clit and I gasp.
My hands are at his jeans, unzipping them and shoving them down just past his hips. He’s commando and his cock is beautiful, long and thick. My heart pounds as I stroke his shaft, rolling the wetness from the top to the bottom. His skin slides over his length like iron as I caress him, brushing my fingers over his tip. Groaning, he kisses me harder, his teeth nipping at my lips, tugging until it hurts and then he kisses me softly, begging.
“I want inside you,” he says, and my entire body clenches.
I. Just. Want. Him.
More, more, more.
I call out his name and clutch his nape when his thumb is back on my nub, playing me, and a swirling sensation builds at the base of my spine, enveloping me in pleasure, rising higher. “You’re almost there.” He stares down at me and those grey eyes are beautiful and dark and full of need that—
I explode, my body pulsating as I come on his fingers. I tighten around him, my legs trembling. I can’t breathe. I can’t think.
With hands that shake, he digs around in his back pocket until a condom appears. Ripping it open, he slides it down. I’m toeing my boots off and shoving down my leggings and underwear. He’s watching me, his hand palming his cock. With a growl, he picks me up, cupping my ass in his hands. He’s rough, his fingers digging into my skin, a man who knows what he wants, and I moan in anticipation. This is the fastest, craziest sex I’ve ever had, but I know what to do. My legs wrap around him and hang on tight. He presses me against the