My Cone and Only (King Family #1) - Susannah Nix Page 0,53
plain black sports bra, even. But this time he let himself look at me instead of forcing his gaze away.
I loved the feel of his eyes on me. For so long they’d slid right past me, never lingering or paying too much attention. It had taken me years to grow numb to the sting of his casual dismissal. Knowing now that it had been against his will, that he’d had to fight for self-control around me, didn’t erase the memory of that rejection.
His attention was laser-focused on me now, and he was seeing every pore, bump, and freckle. I’d never been prone to self-consciousness, but the potency of his regard, so long denied, made me quake a little. As his hands reached out to cradle my rib cage, the rough drag of his calluses sparked on my skin like static electricity. He cupped my breasts through my spandex sports bra, and my breath caught as he grazed my stiff, sensitive nipples.
His eyes jumped to mine. “Can I take this off?”
“Let me.” Sports bras were notoriously unsexy to remove, and I’d learned the hard way not to let a man try to do it for me, unless I wanted to end up twisted like a pretzel with my shoulders bound up and the stupid thing stuck on my head. Hooking my fingers under the elastic band, I pulled it up and shimmied my arms out of the constricting garment, untangling it from my ponytail before tossing it aside.
“God damn,” Wyatt breathed when I’d completed my contortions.
He reached for me again, and my eyes fell closed, my head lolling back as he palmed my bare breasts. I bit my lip when he dragged his thumbs across my nipples and trembled when he pinched them experimentally.
“Do you like that?” He increased the pressure, and a moan slipped through my lips. “I’ll take that as a yes.” His breath seared my chest when he spoke, close but not close enough.
I strained toward him, and his mouth found one of my breasts, his tongue circling my nipple like he was sampling a lollipop. My hips rocked against him of their own accord, making us both groan. I squirmed when he bit me gently, then a little harder, pulses of sharp pleasure shooting through me as he lavished my breasts with attention. Every nip, lick, and squeeze tightening the coil inside me, until it became too much—but also not enough.
Pushing him back against the bed once more, I claimed his mouth with mine, needing to taste him on my tongue again. My hands raked through his hair then dropped down to his chest. My nails dug into his flesh, and he made a low, feral sound in the back of his throat.
“Fuck,” he hissed, shuddering when I experimentally dug my nails in even harder.
I pressed my mouth to his ear, gave his earlobe a nip, and said, “Okay.”
“Not yet.” His fingers tangled in my ponytail, pulling my head back so he could look me in the eyes. A smile like sin played on his lips, and his voice took on a raw edge. “First, I want to see how many times I can make you come.”
A stomach-clenching thrill shot through me, and I nearly bit down on my tongue.
Wyatt grabbed me by the hips, twisting as he tumped me off his lap and sprang to his feet. I stared up at him in surprise and he hauled me to my feet. “These need to come off,” he said as he worked open the button of my pants.
I helped him shimmy them down my legs, along with my underwear, but when I tried to reach for his jeans he gave me a warning growl and shoved me backward onto the bed.
I landed on the laundry I’d spent an hour folding that morning, and he smiled as I squirmed to pull a stack of towels out from under my ass. Bending over me, he swept his arm across the bed, sending all the clean laundry tumbling onto the floor.
His St. Christopher medal dangled from his neck, and it brushed against my throat when his mouth covered mine. I closed my eyes, curling my hands in his hair, feeling a moment of tremulous awe as Wyatt’s stubble scraped over my skin, his lips and tongue searing a path along my jaw, down my throat, and between my breasts.
But that was nothing compared to the way I felt when he dropped to his knees between my legs.