His eyes dart to mine, an infuriating smirk on his lips. “Is this what you want?”
“I want your mouth on my pussy, your tongue inside me.”
Painfully long seconds later, my panties sit somewhere on the rock behind me as he pushes my thighs apart, stroking the skin with his fingers before dipping his head and tasting the whole of me with one swipe of his tongue. I let out a welcoming shriek as he digs in with precise licks, nothing behind them but wicked intent. Writhing on the blanket, I let out an arsenal of curses as he slips a finger in, crooking it along my G. It took me months to figure out how to orgasm alone, practice to pinpoint the parts of my anatomy that set me off, and this man has managed to find them all within mere minutes. Superpower on full display.
He laps me up, stealing my ability to communicate, my shaking legs draped on either side of his head. Hazel eyes peer up at me as I grip the blanket in my hands and squirm due to the workings of his magic mouth. He licks me furiously as I buck in response, heart hammering, covered in a sheen of sweat. He rubs his fingers along my walls, teasing, torturing, before shoving them into me in beckoning. I explode, convulsing as I lose myself, calling his name as he jackhammers his tongue along my clit. He continues to lick as I shudder until I’m begging for him to stop, too sensitive for any more. And despite my tightening thighs around his head, he sucks my folds into his mouth, taking in every last drop of my orgasm. It’s filthy and perfect, and when he lifts to kiss me, I lick his mouth, sucking his tongue with fervor. I run my hand along the length in his shorts, feeling his reaction. Dipping my hand in, I glide my fingers along his taut stomach and moan when I discover a smear of precum. He wants me just as much, and it shows as I wrap my hand around his impressive length for only a second before he lowers his body, denying me access. Satiated but intent on more, I stare up at him with the longing I feel.
He shakes his head. “Today is about you.”
“Trust me. It would be for me. It’s okay to be selfish,” I reply breathlessly.
He stops the hand I reach for him with and kisses the back of it.
“Sean, I’m not innocent.”
He threads our fingers. “No, but you’re more. A lot more.”
“You truly mean that? Considering what you confessed earlier?”
“You took that the wrong way.”
“Meaning what?”
He peers down at me, cupping my cheek with a warm hand, sliding his thumb along my mouth. “Meaning with you, right now, I’m feeling a little selfish.”
“Is that a bad thing?”
“It’s a very bad thing.”
“How so?”
He drops his head on my stomach and groans.
My heart blossoms when he lifts his head to peer up at me, and we exchange a look, the rawness in his eyes lets me know I’ve made as much of an impression on him as he has me. In exchange for his silent confession, I give him an ounce of my trust. No more words necessary.
It’s on the return hike back to his car, where he takes great care to lift me into his hold, stopping me here and there for a kiss, lulling me with deep strokes of his tongue that I know I could fall for Alfred Sean Roberts. And today, a small part of me does.
Sean: Thinking of you.
What are you thinking?
Sean: All kinds of thoughts.
Care to get specific?
Sean: You’re beautiful and completely unaware of just how much. And you taste so fucking good.
What are you doing to me?
Sean: Not nearly enough. Come to the garage.
I’ll be there in an hour.
It’s been days since the waterfall and he’s barely touched me intimately since. He’s wrapped up in me constantly when we’re around the guys but leaves me every night with a chaste kiss, his mixed signals driving me up the wall. It’s as if he’s waiting for…something I can’t put my finger on. But instead of complaining about it, I’ve played along because, honestly, I’m enjoying the ache and anticipation. I’ve never been much of a fast girl, but my attraction to him makes my inhibitions hard to hold. The boys of my past have nothing on this man. Nothing. And these days, when I look at my reflection, I see