This Fearless Girl (St. Clary's University #2) - E. M. Moore Page 0,62
head, and stand there, waiting expectantly for his reaction. He doesn’t disappoint.
“Dakota,” he breathes. “He didn’t….”
“He did,” I smile.
Lucas drops to his knees and reaches for my zipper, lowering it slowly as if he’s opening a present. He works my shorts down, revealing my matching satin bottoms inch by inch. The jean material falls to my ankles. I relieve myself of almost everything from the waist down until I’m in front of him in only my bra and panties. “You look like a pinup girl.”
Goosebumps spread over my flesh. My body is primed and ready and has been since Lucas first taunted me. His slow perusal of my body dampens the red, silky material until I’m too impatient to wait another moment.
I drag him to his feet and our lips collide. We punish one another for delaying the inevitability of this moment. I tug at his shirt, and he lifts his hands so I can remove it. My fingertips graze over every single square inch of his chiseled chest while we continue kissing each other senseless. He hauls me closer, his erection trying to sink home even through our clothes.
Dropping my hands, I work on his pants next. They’re shaking so badly I can hardly undo the button and lower the zipper, but eventually, I get there. “How bad do you want me?” he prods, kicking his clothes away. He steers me toward the bed, pushing me to a seated position. He follows, forcing me back until he’s crawling on top of me, his sexy-as-sin body hovering.
I cup his cock right over his boxers, giving it a firm squeeze. “So bad,” I moan, punctuating each word with a pump of my fist.
He groans, the feathering of his jaw kicking up a notch. Threading our fingers together, he forces my hand to the bed above my head. My breaths come in short gasps, desire barreling through me like a tornado. Using his other hand to peel the cup of my bra down, he breathes over my eager flesh, making me dig my heels into the mattress in anticipation. His mouth finally latches on, and I cry out, bucking into him. He nips at me playfully, licking the prick of pain away right afterward.
While he teases, he reaches around to unclasp my new garment, slipping it off. “As sexy as this is, your bare breasts are mmmm.” He ends in a groan, clasping both hands above us, ducking to suck my nipple into his mouth. He nips and tugs until I’m a sweaty mess beneath him.
“Stay there,” he orders, lowering down my body, leaving a fiery trail in his wake. He peppers kisses along my rib cage, my navel, and the tops of my panties. I spread my legs wide for him. I don’t know what he plans on doing, but I’m here for it. “Good girl,” he murmurs and sucks on my clit right through the already soaked fabric. I nearly come off the bed as pleasure spikes right through my core.
The anticipation of what’s going to happen is too much.
He takes his time removing my only remaining piece of clothing, following the red satin to my ankles as he licks a trail down my thigh and the inside of my knee. My breaths come out shaky and needy. Lucas is a pro. This is one thousand times better than my fumbling first experiences already.
He spreads my knees wide, trailing a finger down my clit to my pussy and back up again. I mewl, thrusting my hips up to meet his touch. His free hand pushes his boxers down to reveal his cock. He strokes it, pre-cum glistening the tip. I have visions of licking it off, but I don’t get the chance. I cry out, his finger pushing inside me.
The seemingly timid guy I first met is gone, replaced with this ultra-confident, masculine God in front of me.
“Please, Lucas.” I’m already throbbing in need while he works his finger in and out of me.
“Touch yourself,” he commands, pulling away. He leans back to grab his pants before glancing back at me. He arches a brow when I haven’t moved.
Tentatively, I work my hand down. It flutters over my stomach, hesitating a moment until I brush my fingers past my mound. He grabs a condom from his pocket, opening the package while I rub my clit in lazy circles. Slowly, he rolls the condom down his length, eyes trained on me.
“Is that how you touch yourself when you think of me?”