into the apartment. He manages to slam my door shut with his foot, and we are a mess of lips and tongue and teeth as we try to devour each other.
My hunger for him is acute, a burning, aching pit inside me that won’t be satisfied until I’ve run my hands all over him, until I’ve tasted every inch of his body, until he thrusts inside me and makes me scream his name.
One of his hands makes a fist in my hair while the other slides down my neck, down over my breasts until my nipples harden underneath my shirt. A moan falls from my lips, and he tugs my hair in response and suddenly things get feverish, desperate, like we both just realized how badly we need this. Tongues tangling, hands everywhere, we stumble across the living room, knocking against a wall that rattles a painting.
He pulls back just enough to stare into my eyes with this dark, raw desire. “I’m going to worship you.” He nips my lip between his mouth and sucks until I groan. “Turn your body into an altar. Use my tongue to bring you to heaven.”
Oh. Oh.
He pulls away and tugs me toward the dimly lit bedroom, and I am reeling with lust and impatience and raw nerves as we spill toward the bed.
I’m falling back on it and he’s prowling on top of me, holding my hands above my head at the wrists, gazing down at me. He runs his thumb along my bottom lip and slowly sticks his thumb in. It tastes like sangría.
“I’ve been wanting to do this all night,” he murmurs roughly as I gently suck and lick. “When you started eating those cherries from the glass, it was all I could think about. All I could see. You’re all I can see.” He gently removes his thumb and then slides it down, down, down, until his hand is slipping between my leggings, under my panties, and moving slickly over my clit.
I arch my back, legs falling open, greedy for his touch, and press my hips up into him.
“You have no idea how beautiful you are,” he says. “How real you are right now, when I’m touching you, when I’m making you wet and hungry. I want to do this all night, every day. Just to see that perfect mouth of yours open and wanting, to hear those sweet little sounds.”
He removes his thumb and brings it up to my lips. “Suck,” he says. “Taste what you taste like to me. Pure woman.”
I take in his thumb, not minding how I taste, then he puts his thumb near his lips and licks up the side of it, his eyes on me the entire time.
I feel like sinking into the bed. I’m so turned on and this is so intense.
“This is part of the worship,” he says as he reaches for the hem of my shirt and pulls it up over my head until I’m completely bare before him. The first thing I do when I get home is take off my bra, so I’ve been without one all night.
“These breasts,” he says, his lips curling into a wicked curve. He spreads his palms over them, giving them a light squeeze. “Tell me what you like.”
Normally I don’t have a problem being vocal in bed, but right now I am tongue-tied.
It doesn’t matter anyway because he lowers his head and sucks a nipple into his mouth while squeezing the other with his hand. “Do you like that?” he says against my skin, causing goosebumps to erupt all over my body.
“Yes,” I whisper, wanting more. My heart is beating so fast I can feel it in my neck.
He responds by taking my nipple between his teeth and giving it a tug, a sharp pinch of need that makes my skin feel hot and tight.
“Do you like that?”
I make a whimpering sound.
He pulls his mouth away, blowing on it until I’m squirming, then starts flicking the hard pebble with his tongue until my hands start grasping the bedcover and I feel like I’m going to die from the tension.
“What do you want me to do?” he says, and I stare at his wet mouth. “How do you want me to touch you?”
“By fucking me,” I tell him. My voice sounds so desperate and needy but I can’t help it. I’m wound so tight, it’s agony. “Please, just fuck me. Fuck me until I don’t know my own name.”