kisses from my shoulder, along my collarbone, and down the crest of my breast. Drawing a line with his tongue, he stops just shy of my bra. Then he flicks his eyes back to mine, a hint of mischief within.
“Is this okay?” he asks again.
“Yes,” I reply, this time with more desperation, more urgency.
“Good.”
He returns his attention to my breast, his mouth warm on my skin. He dips a finger beneath my bra, lightly grazing my nipple. But it still causes an inferno to erupt in my core, burning everything in sight. I’m no longer Londyn. No longer this man’s interior designer. I’m just a bundle of hormones in desperate need of release.
“Is this okay?” he repeats.
“Yes,” I answer frantically. I couldn’t tell him no even if I wanted to. But right now, I can’t remember wanting anything more in my life, the tension that’s been building with each moment bubbling over, scorching everything in sight.
“Good.”
His deft fingers push down my bra cup, revealing my breast. He lifts his eyes, jaw tight, nostrils flaring.
“You are so fucking beautiful, Londyn.” He crushes his lips to mine in a punishing kiss before tearing away, leaving a fire in his wake as he makes his torturous journey back down my frame.
I hold my breath, watching as he stops a mere whisper away from my nipple. He blows on it, the warmth causing it to pebble even more. When he finally takes it into his mouth, I moan, synapses firing inside me, reawakening parts of my body I’d forgotten existed.
I thrust against him, but it’s not enough, nothing able to extinguish the flame he lit with his kiss, his touch.
He squeezes my thigh, his hand traveling upward and pushing the skirt of my dress higher as his tongue circles my nipple with more hunger before pulling back, leaving me bereft and needy.
“Is this okay?” he asks, sliding his hand even higher up my leg, lifting his eyes to meet mine.
“Is this okay?” he asks, sliding his hand even higher up my leg.
“Yes,” I answer, not a hint of hesitation in my tone.
Reaching my panty line, he teases it with one finger, ghosting my center. When he feels how much I want him, his eyes widen before darkening.
“Is this okay?” He lifts my panties, but doesn’t push them to the side. Not yet.
“Yes.” My voice is barely audible, too many sensations rushing through me. If we were anywhere else, I might stop him, not wanting anyone to see. But we’re all alone out here, no other house visible for miles. It’s just us. And this all-consuming need.
His expression even, he slides my panties aside, the warmth of his finger so close to my center pushing me to the edge of all reason. Past the edge of all reason. Because I am out of my mind with lust. In another time. Another place. Where all I care about is letting go.
He brings his thumb to my clit, the contact sending a charge straight to my core.
“Is this okay?” he asks a final time. The restrained want in his chiseled expression, as well as his voice, is evidence it’s taking everything he has to keep his wits about him.
“Yes,” I respond, thrusting slightly against him, urging him.
His lips descend on mine, his teeth nibbling on my bottom one. “God, I was hoping you’d say that.”
When he presses his thumb more firmly against me, I’m helpless to contain the moan that escapes my mouth, utter bliss rushing through my veins. Everything about this moment feels like a dream.
An erotic dream I want to have again and again.
“God, you’re so wet, Lo,” Wes groans, his motions propelling me higher and higher. “Do I turn you on this much?”
“Yes,” I breathe, my grip on him tightening when he pushes a finger inside me. My core clenches, the fullness of his finger inside and thumb on my clit unraveling me to the point of oblivion.
“Fuck,” he hisses, adding another finger, stretching and tormenting me. Our heavy breaths intermingle as we succumb to everything we’ve fought for weeks. “Do you have any idea how many times I’ve thought about how you would taste? How you would feel?”
“How many?” I ask, our gazes locking as he continues to torture me.
“Too many, Londyn.” He lowers his mouth to my neck, biting and sucking on that sensitive spot just below my earlobe. “So fucking many. So many nights I’ve jerked off to the fantasy of burying myself inside you.”