Josh and Hazel's Guide to Not Dating - Christina Lauren Page 0,80
shuffle out of my bed, still naked, hair standing straight up like a silken forest. I imagine kissing him, getting distracted and forgetting what I was supposed to be doing before I remember again.
The rest of the thought is cut off as his hands slide up and down my legs, tormenting me, pulling that heavy weight low in my belly, making me so hungry for him to touch me that I ache. I push up on an elbow, wanting to retaliate the teasing, and he laughs in a tight, incredulous breath when my fingers come over him, above his boxers. He is hot in my hand, pulsing steel.
“You’re so hard.” I am a master at stating the obvious.
He watches my hands as I coax the elastic down, but he doesn’t do what I expect after he kicks the boxers off. He doesn’t rise over me and settle between my legs. He ducks lower, kissing the inside of each knee, up my thigh and then down the other. His breath is hot when he comes up again—only inches away now from where my heartbeat has settled—and he stares up at my face from between my legs.
“This okay?”
“What? Yeah. Of course. Yes.” Frankly it’s a struggle to not grab his hair and pull him down.
He smiles, but it’s not a smile I’ve ever seen before. It’s a dangerous smile; he’s a movie villain, the seductive one, the one who robs you but fucks you real good first.
And then he ducks, and kisses me between my legs, and my body becomes a bomb.
He places tiny kisses—from lower, where I am wet and aching, up to the fuse that lights under the sweet press of his mouth. I can feel when it opens, feel the heat of his exhale across that most sensitive place when he moans. His tongue swipes away my sanity but misses the place where I need it—intentionally—sliding around and around, dipping inside me and then arcing high, teasing, narrowing in on his target. Slowly, seductively circling.
The tension in my body is so tight, and I ache so deeply it’s nearly painful. I need his tongue there, and I want him inside me, and I feel like I want to climb out of my skin I’m so desperate to feel him.
“Please.”
He pulls away just slightly and I whimper in torment when he kisses my thighs again, speaking into them. “Hmm?”
“Josh.” My hand goes into his hair, pressing silent radio commands to the brain beneath: Suck on me. Suck on me.
“I could lose my mind down here.”
My other hand dives into my own hair, pulling to keep me from screaming. I let out a tight “I mean, that would be okay.”
His mouth presses warm against the very top of my thigh, and I feel my legs shaking against his hands as he whispers, “Isn’t it nice when I take my time?”
“Oh. Oh my God, yes it is nice.” I sound like I’ve just run a mile.
“You feel like silk in my mouth.” My brain melts inside my cranium at his words and the heat of them across my skin, and Josh—the beast—sucks a small hickey into my inner thigh. I swear he’s smiling when he says, “You’re shaking.”
“I know . . . because I want . . .” A sob seems to rise in my throat at the force of this want, and my heartbeat is everywhere, slamming up against my skin.
“You want?” He comes back over me then, mouth open, eyes closed, and the suction pulls any coherence out of me.
I’ve had oral sex before, but never like this. Never with such focus, such precision. His mouth fixes over me, gently sucking as he hums. He doesn’t play or bite or lick around, doesn’t roughly push his fingers in me. He remains just there, but it seems to be only a matter of seconds before I feel a shift inside me, a tide rolling in and a wave that builds. When he moans—a spontaneous, encouraging sound—I tip over, falling with my head pressed back into the pillow and my entire body curling in pleasure.
I’m nonverbal for a good thirty seconds afterward, lying on the bed in a pose that I really hope looks more Sated Goddess than Deflated Hobo, but I can’t be bothered regardless. “That was the most mind-numbing sexual experience of my life.”
He laughs into a kiss to my thigh. “Good.”
“I don’t want to know where you learned that particular technique.”