e hem of my Tshirt,
whipping it over my head and throwing it on the
floor.
“I want to feel you,” he says greedily against my mouth
as his hands move behind me to undo my bra. In one
smooth move, it’s off and he pitches it aside.
smooth move, it’s off and he pitches it aside.
He pushes me back down onto the bed, pressing me
into the mattress, and his mouth and hand move to my
breasts. My fingers curl into his hair as he takes one of my
nipples between his lips and tugs hard.
I cry out as the sensation sweeps through my body,
spikes, and tightens all the muscles around my groin.
“Yes, baby, let me hear you,” he murmurs against my
overheated skin.
Boy, I want him inside me, now. With his mouth, he
toys with my nipple, pulling at it, making me squirm and
writhe and yearn for him. I sense his longing mixed with—
what? Veneration. It’s as if he’s worshipping me.
He teases me with his fingers, my nipple growing hard
and elongating under his skillful touch. His hand moves to
my jeans, and he deftly undoes the button, tugs the zipper
down, and slips his hand inside my panties, sliding his
fingers against my sex.
His breath hisses out as his finger glides into me. I push
my pelvis up into the heel of his hand, and he responds,
my pelvis up into the heel of his hand, and he responds,
rubbing against me.
“Oh, baby,” he breathes as he hovers over me, staring
intently into my eyes. “You’re so wet.” His voice is filled
with wonder.
“I want you,” I murmur.
His mouth joins with mine again, and I feel his hungry
desperation, his need for me.
This is new—it’s never been like this except perhaps
when I came back from Georgia—and his words from
earlier drift back to me . . . I need to know we’re okay.
This is the only way I know how.
The thought unra一vels me. To know that I ha一ve such an
effect on him, that I can offer him so much solace, doing
this—my inner goddess purrs with pure pleasure. He sits
up, grasps the hem of my jeans, and tugs them off,
followed by my panties.
Keeping his e
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