I knew that it was fast.
Hell, it’d been like a few weeks total that we’d known each other.
But I didn’t want to miss a freakin’ thing.
I wanted to be there when she woke up. I wanted to be around if she had a question about her book. I wanted to be there.
But most importantly, I wanted to be there to witness all the firsts.
The first time that she noticed her baby bump. The first time that she felt the baby kick. The first time that she smiled at me from across the pillow after I stayed the night.
I wanted her.
I wanted her bad.
And it was obvious in the way I pressed against her in response to her hand’s position at my belt.
“Let’s do sex first.” She laughed against my lips before running her tongue along the seam. “Then we can talk relationship after.”
“Sounds like a plan,” I said as I bent down and scooped her up.
It was kind of awkward at first as I carried her into my bedroom, but she didn’t say anything about the wobble as I found a comfortable place for my cast, and neither did I.
Instead, she moved to press her lips against my throat, slowly licking over the pulse along my neck.
When we got to the bedroom, I dropped her onto the bed and growled as I saw her tits bounce.
“At least I didn’t say anything about these,” I teased as I tugged the shirt away from her skin and allowed it to pop back. My shirt, might I add.
“No,” she scoffed. “But you might as well have. You totally fondled my boob when we got out of the car.”
I had. I remembered.
Because I’d noticed that her breasts were unbound.
Would anybody blame me? I mean, she had perfect tits.
I slowly lifted the polo shirt off over my head and she groaned when my skin was revealed to her hungry eyes.
I felt my nipples tighten at her attention and knew that she was just as impressed with my body as I was hers.
Following suit, she slowly tugged my t-shirt off over her head and allowed it to drop onto the bed beside her. She bit her lip as she raised her brow as if to say silently, “You next.”
I reached for my belt, slowly slipping it free of the hook before completely pulling it free of my pants, all while using one hand.
Her eyes went hot at the show I’d inadvertently put on.
“More,” she ordered. “I’m not wearing anything under these leggings. You have more to take off than I do.”
My eyes zeroed in on her mound which was covered by the thinnest of material she called leggings.
“You’re not?” I asked as I got to work on my pants.
She shook her head as she watched me work the button and zipper down on my jeans, then sit down on the bed so that I could get my boots off without falling over.
I wasn’t saying that I was completely recovered from my drug-induced euphoria from hours before, but I was better. That didn’t mean that I wouldn’t fall flat on my face if I tried to balance on one foot as I unlaced my boots.
She took pity on me and bent down to help me finish undressing, standing up once my feet were bare of boots and socks.
I took advantage of her closeness by wrapping one arm around her waist and tugging her to me.
She moaned when my mouth found her collarbone and sucked.
“Touch me, Sammy.” She groaned. “Touch me everywhere.”
I did, running my fingers over the length of her sides, loving the way her soft skin felt underneath my calloused hands.
Scooting down until her mound was in line with my face, I took my first swipe of her flesh.
She gasped and bowed, her body reacting violently at the feel of my tongue against her overheated core.
“Holy shit,” she breathed, her back coming back down to rest against my soft, coral duvet cover.
I hadn’t picked the color ‘coral’ out. My mom had. But now I could definitely see the appeal of the color.
Hastings’ tanned skin against the bright orangish, pinkish, whatever the fuck color it was a mix between, looked divine.
Like I wanted to lick my tongue over every single inch of skin she had available to me.
But there was enough time for that later.
Right now, I wanted to run my tongue over more special things. More interesting and responsive things.
Like her clit.
Which I did in the next second.
Dragging the flat of my tongue over the bundle of nerves, she hissed a breath and latched onto my hair, her fingers spearing into my scalp, tangling in the longish curls.
I’d always hated my hair.
I hated cutting it.
I hated that it grew so fast.
And I hated it being long.
It was a vicious cycle.
But with my hair the length that it was, I could see how it would be a good thing to have something that she could sink her fingers into. Something that she could hold onto while my mouth devoured her pussy. While my cock sank into her tight, sweet heat.