He wanted to crush her mouth with his. Brutalize her lips. Nip her until she fought back and brutalized him too. He wanted to kiss her messy, until drool ran down the corners of her mouth and her tongue felt like it was going to fall off. Until she told him that she was his again.
Except, he wanted to treasure her too. He wanted to be gentle. To remember the moment he kissed her for the first time when he knew. Knew beyond a shadow of the most shadowy doubt, that he wanted her.
So, he let his breath fog up her lips. He let her pant and whimper as his lips played over hers, little more than a whisper and a flutter. He let her learn every indent and pattern and crease in his lips as he pressed them to hers and he kept them there, memorizing every crease and dip and curve of hers before his opened and hers followed.
They danced then. His tongue darted out and he traced the patterns in her lips he’d just taken so much care to learn. He licked at her mouth until she opened for him, until she was kissing him back. He deepened it a few seconds later, tasting her mouth, her tongue and her air. He stroked her gently, deeply, darkly, and swallowed the whimpers she moaned into him. He breathed in sharply, inhaling her air.
She arched into him, pushing her breasts into his chest in invitation, and goddamn those flimsy lace bras she liked to wear. He could feel the hard outlines of her nipples right through two layers of clothing.
He growled into her mouth as he shoved her shirt up roughly. She lifted her arms in the air so he could tug it off. His control snapped, when he saw her in the soaked, totally translucent, white lace. He bent his head and tore the little piece of cloth holding it all together with his teeth.
Alix moaned and scraped her nails over his scalp as she tugged his face to her breast. He captured her nipple in his mouth, licking and sucking and using his teeth until the bud was hard and straining. Her hips ground down into him and yeah, this time his cock was ready. He ground back, dry humping her in a wet bathtub like a horny sixteen-year-old who has just been warned about the dangers of copulation but doesn’t have a condom in sight to save his already blackened soul.
Alix, sweet, innocent, gorgeous, Alix who wasn’t so little anymore, or so innocent, reached between them and grabbed his cock with her fist. She ran her hand down the smooth length of him underneath the water and his hips jacked into her hand with the motion.
“Fuck, Alix” he hissed.
“Yeah,” she breathed, right next to his ear, all soft honey, sugary syrup, warm breeze and desperate, dark need. “If that’s what you want, this time I’m game.”
His eyes slammed shut and he made a living out of grinding his teeth to dust just to keep from coming all over her hand. Not that there’d be a mess in the tub, but still… it was her parent’s tub, and he had a reputation to consider. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt so on edge. So close to the edge. Like he was a virgin all over again. Oh right. Even when he had been a virgin- and no, he was not going to even think about how that had gone- he hadn’t come in under a minute.
He was supposed to be the Ross Rivers. The guy who could go at it all night. The guy who was famous for his stamina. Multiple orgasm king, Ross Rivers. That was his reputation.
He curled his hands around Alix’s jean covered ass and lifted her from the bath, soaking wet. He climbed out after, her still in his arms, her legs locked around his hips, and nearly fell flat on his face, since the marble tile was a slippery motherfucker when already drenched.
“Holy shit,” he groaned, when her nails bite into his shoulder.
“Yeah,” she breathed again. “Holy shit. Holy everything.”
“Where?”
“My room. Down the hall.”
“I know where your damn room is,” he ground out. If his cock got any harder, he was going to tear through her jeans and be inside her before they got to her room and he had time to glove up.
Fuck. He didn’t have a condom. It was very unlikely she did either, though he couldn’t say why he thought so. She was beautiful. He and Chance used to have to kick ass every single day just to keep the bastards off of her. Away from her. Whatever. She could very well have had a ton of sexual encounters by now. The thought pissed him off. Wildly. He wanted to find the bastards who ever dared to touch her, cut their balls off and make a ball necklace that he’d wear like a trophy.