She grabbed my arm, pulling me into the apartment and slamming the door behind us. I was a quaking mass of hungry need for my doll as she pushed me back against the door and reached for my shirt, unbuttoning it in a rush.
Her lips touched my neck, then moved down to the ink across my chest as she pulled my shirt apart and over my shoulders. I caught her hips, holding her prisoner against my lower body as she ground herself against me. Santana might have been shy in the beginning, but right then, she knew exactly what she wanted, and she wasn’t the least bit shy about taking it.
And I fucking loved it.
TWELVE
Santana
His skin tasted of a mixture of fresh citrus and sweat, his heart was pounding like a jackhammer in my ear, and his body was hard as a rock as I pressed my hips closer, wanting more. I could feel him shaking, could see the hunger shining down at me from those hazel eyes that were more green than brown. He was holding himself back, letting me take everything I could possibly want from him.
And it only made me want him more.
I had never taken the initiative before. I’d never been the one in control in bed with my past lovers. But not one of them had made me feel what I was feeling right then. This consuming need to touch and taste and mark his body as mine.
I traced over his abs with my fingers, teasing us both as I sought out the top of his jeans. I couldn’t stop kissing his chest, tracing my tongue over his pecs as I unfastened his belt. My teeth nipped at his firm skin, my tongue tracing over the ink just under his collarbone.
“Fuck,” he groaned when I touched him through his jeans. “You’re not making this easy, doll.”
I unbuttoned his jeans and slowly lowered the zipper before pushing my hand inside. It was like velvet covered steel, so hard yet so smoothly soft. My pussy quivered at just the thought of taking him inside my body.
Licking my lips, I lifted my head to meet his gaze. “Why do you call me doll?” I murmured. I loved when he called me that, but I was curious as to why he’d picked doll and not just baby or some other cutesy endearment.
Kale’s gaze skimmed over my face and down my body. “You look like a beautiful, little doll to me.” He cupped my face in both hands. “My own personal little doll” —he lowered his head and pressed his lips against the shell of my left ear— “that I can do sweet, naughty things to.”
My hand contracted around his shaft, and every muscle in my body shuddered with need. My panties were now soaking wet, and he hadn’t even touched me yet.
Feeling my reaction to his words, all his control seemed to shatter and fall around our feet. With a groan that was almost a growl, he wrapped his hands around my waist and lifted me off my feet.
I kicked my heels off and wrapped my legs around his waist as he lowered his hands to my ass, squeezing each globe as he walked through the apartment to his bedroom.
I buried my face in his neck, tracing a path from his ear to his shoulder with my tongue. I couldn’t get enough of the taste of his skin. I was lost in savoring it on my tongue when he suddenly stopped walking and laid me down on his bed.
I had barely landed before he was pressing my thighs apart, already working my dress up over my hips and exposing my black lace thong to his eyes.
His nostrils flared as he took in the sight of the dampness the small piece of underwear couldn’t hide. “You are too damn beautiful, Santana,” he groaned out, lowering himself over me before he brushed his lips over mine in a deep kiss. “You have me shaking like a fucking boy right now, doll. How am I supposed to be good when you look this delicious, huh?”
Even with my blood feeling like it was a thousand degrees, I found myself smiling. “Babe, it’s cute that you’ve been good. But you got me now.” I wrapped my arms around his neck, pulling his head closer. “It’s time to be a little bad. Okay?”
Those mostly green eyes turned darker. “That’s the first time you called me babe.”
“Well, I’m not going to call you doll,” I told him with a sassy smirk, making him chuckle. “You are definitely not a pretty little doll, Kale Conway.”
He had been busy tugging my dress up farther, but now he paused and gave me a stern frown. “Beautiful, little doll, Santana. You are my beautiful, little doll.”
A thrill shot through me that had nothing to do with his questing hands as they pulled my dress up to my breasts.
“Same difference,” I muttered in a breathless voice.
“Big difference,” he countered as he cupped my left breast, squeezing it possessively. “Tell me what you are,” he commanded. “Tell me that you’re my beautiful, little doll.”
I thought it would be impossible to get more wet than I already was—than I had ever been in my entire fucking life—but that was exactly what happened. My delicious drummer had been so sweet the last few days, but having him boss me around right then had my pussy practically gushing for him.
“I-I’m your little doll,” I told him as I lifted my hips to rub myself against his hardness.
His hand stopped mid-squeeze. “No.” That sternness was back, and it was sexy as fuck. “Tell me.” He twisted his hips, grinding his erection against my wet softness.
I was practically panting now. “I … I’m your … beautiful, little … doll.” The last word came out as a moan as he pressed down hard right over my clit through his jeans.