“You don’t want out.”
“I do.”
“You don’t.”
“Trust me, I do.”
“No, you don’t.”
“I so totally do.”
“You want me to prove you don’t?”
Uh-oh.
“No,” I answered quickly as his hands tilted my head one way, his head slanted the other, his eyes dropped to my mouth and his face got closer.
“Too late,” he muttered against my lips. I pressed them together. He changed tactics at the last minute, his tongue slid along my lips and my eyes drifted closed as my hands pressed against his shoulders. “Open your mouth for me, baby,” he whispered against my lips.
I shook my head.
“I wanna taste you, open for me, darlin’.” He was still whispering.
I shook my head again.
His thumb moved across my cheek, sweeping across my lips again, his tongue following and all that felt way, way, way too nice.
“Open for me,” he urged gently.
I shook my head again at the same time pressing it back into the pillows.
His hand left my head and moved down my neck, my chest, as I felt his h*ps grind into mine.
Mm, that felt way, way, way too nice too.
Damn.
“Open,” he ordered.
I squeezed my eyes tight.
His hand kept moving down.
“Open, baby.”
I pressed my lips tight.
His fingers found the hem of my camisole, dipped under then the warmth of his hand was moving up my skin.
I squirmed under him.
“Open.”
I turned my face away from his and his hand cupped my breast.
“Open,” he whispered against the sensitive skin of my neck.
“No,” I whispered to the pillow.