“Mitch,” I pant. “This can’t happen here.”
“I know the perfect place,” he says, carrying me upstairs as if I weighed nothing.
CHAPTER12
BETH
The intense beating of Mitch's heart is a clear indication that he feels these sensations and feelings just as much as I do. Mitch, who'd spent lots of evenings at our house all those years ago, moves straight to my room, depositing me gingerly on my bed. I gaze up at him, eyeing the way his t-shirt compliments his strong biceps.
Moving eager hands towards his shirt, Mitch intercepts my movement, trapping both of my hands in one of his.
“Uh-uh,” he wags his finger at me.
I watch him confused.
“That is not how we play the game tonight, Beth,” he says captivatingly, lips nipping the soft skin of my neck.
My upper body falls weakly against the bed, and Mitch follows without breaking stride, kissing the rise of my breasts and moving lower.
“Mitch,” I moan, arching my upper body against his mouth, needing him, wanting all of him.
When Mitch pauses to pull off my shirt, shyness has me closing my eyes, hoping the embarrassing flush on my skin can be mistaken for excitement.
“Open your eyes, Beth.”
I do as Mitch says, shiny green eyes meeting darkened brown ones.
“You're exquisite. You look even better than you do in my dreams.”
Suddenly eager to touch the body I'd only ever admired from afar, I attempt to pull off his shirt, but once again I'm stopped.
“You don't get to touch me until I say so,” he tells me.
“But I need to see you...”
“You will,” he says, pulling his shirt over his head and baring bronzed skin to my gaze.
“Damn...” I whisper because Mitch looks even much better than I'd imagined. He’s sexy as sin with a body that looks like it was carved out of solid granite. And when my eyes descend toward the erotic vee of his crotch, I let out a helpless whimper.
“You want to touch me, don't you? You're dying to rest those plump lips against my skin, against my cock, and taste me like you've always wanted to,” he husks, not making any move to touch me. His words, uttering a low tone that connects with something in my core causing me to slump against the bed, as his words continue to wash over me.
“What if I told you that you can't?” he whispers, slipping a hand beneath my shirt to take my right breast in his palm. “Hmm... So soft. So voluptuous. If I brushed my tongue against this rosy tip—"
“Mitch, please,” I cry out, arching against him when he begins to knead the heavy weight in his palm.
Growling low in his throat, Mitch pushes my shirt up, and I help him, eager to push it over my head. Mitch, obviously, has a different plan as he traps my hands beneath my shirt and takes my right breast in his mouth.
“Fuck, Mitch,” I cry out.
Mitch laps even more against my breasts, switching from one to the other until I become a sobbing mess. When he moves lower, kissing a direct path towards the waistline of my shorts, I let out a loud moan, canting my hips forward, offering him more of me, but Mitch doesn't go at the pace I want him to, contenting himself rather with tasting every inch of my stomach, laying teasing kisses along my sternum until I’m too breathless to even moan.
When the wetness between my legs practically sips through my tiny shorts, Mitch pushes my shirt completely off, ordering me to watch as he expertly pushes my shorts and panties down my legs.
As I lay completely naked, Mitch sits back on his haunches and takes me in.
“You're a work of art, Beth. And tonight, I get to have you. I can’t hold back any longer,” he whispers, sidling against my body, bare upper skin brushing against mine.
“Look at me,” he murmurs, and my eyes flutter open again. “Watch me, I want you to see who is pleasuring you,” he tells me, fingers moving toward the apex of my thighs where he discovers my soaked pussy.