A quiver worked its way up my spine, my feet already moving before my hands could grip her hips. She clung to me with her thighs, her eagerness a slick presence I longed to indulge in.
Her back hit the mattress of my bed—one I rarely used but was about to thoroughly put to the test. I climbed over her, bracing on my hands as her fingers went to the buttons of my dress shirt. They practically popped off in her hurry to get to my skin, her appreciative gaze stroking my torso and heightening my yearning with each passing second.
I helped her remove the fabric as it hit my shoulders, shrugging out of the material and smiling when she pushed me to my back with her palm on my chest. Her lips tasted my jaw, my neck, my pecs and abs. Each kiss a tantalizing caress that heated my blood even more.
I fisted my fingers in her hair as she reached my belt, her blue eyes peering up at me with questions in their depths. “You set the pace,” I told her, refusing to take anything from her that she didn’t readily agree to give.
She popped the buckle.
Then my button.
And slid down the zipper.
“Fuck,” I breathed, every inch of me burning for her. It would be so easy to flip her, to take control, to slide from my boxers into the bare heat waiting for me between her thighs.
She licked the sensitive skin just above my pants and began tugging the fabric down. It required her to move to the side temporarily, gracing me with a view of her hiked-up dress and the sweetness beneath.
My limbs locked, my desire warring with my need to allow h
er these precious moments of control.
But those luscious blonde curls were calling to my tongue.
My hands.
My fingers.
My cock.
I bit down on a groan, my hands fisting at my sides. She’s going to be the death of me, I decided. I will literally die because I couldn’t—
“Ella.” I arched off the bed, her unexpected touch nearly undoing me.
She hadn’t wasted any time, her palm falling to my dick and stroking me through the thin cotton. “You’re going to need to teach me.”
“You’re doing just fine without instruction,” I assured her, my skin tightening across my abdomen.
She continued her sensual torture—which she probably considered an exploration—and drew her nails downward and upward, memorizing my length.
I hissed when she stopped, my inclination to grab her nearly overwhelming me.
Until a brush of air hit my groin.
Her gasp caused my lips to twitch. Such a beautiful sound for my ego.
An ego I soon forgot as my boxers disappeared into the pile of clothes already on the floor. I’d kicked off my shoes earlier, leaving me in only my socks—which I quickly removed.
Typically, I preferred the female to disrobe first.
But something about the way Ella admired me now made her approach so much better.
She bent to lick the tip of my cock, her hum of approval killing me. “Ella,” I said, my voice strained. “Baby. If you do that—” I bit off on a curse as she took me deep into her mouth.
I grabbed the bedding, demanding my cock behave and allow her to play. But fuck, it was a challenge in self-control.
A month of heavy making out had primed my body in so many ways that no amount of jacking off could help temper it. Which, yeah, I did. A lot. Including this morning. All to fantasies that involved this very sensation.
My fingers ran through her hair automatically, my muscles reacting despite my mental demand to let her lead. It just went against every single instinct I owned.