“More,” I whimper, without even really knowing what I’m asking for, my body arching towards him as I strain for sensations I can’t even put names to. “Please, more.”
And he gives it to me. His hand comes up, lightly cupping the curve of my breast through the silky red fabric. The dress is reinforced enough that I don’t need a bra. My nipples are stiff and hard, pressing through the fabric so that the instant his thumb brushes over it, a jolt of sensation darts between my thighs.
I cry out, writhing against him as he sucks a little harder at the side of my neck, his teeth lightly scraping against my flesh. “Fuck,Gabriela, you’re driving me wild,” Niall groans. “I need to taste you, lass—I need—”
I don’t quite know what he means by that, but I nod breathlessly. All I know is that I needmore, more of anything, that my body is straining towards some end that I can’t see and don’t understand. “Yes,” I beg, my thighs parting instinctively as one of his hands drops to the hem of my dress again. “Please, I need you—”
He makes an almost painful sound deep in his throat, his mouth pulling away from my neck long enough for his dark blue gaze to fix on mine. There’s something almost sad that flickers in his eyes for a moment, and he reaches up with the hand that was touching my breast, his thumb brushing over the full center of my lower lip.
“Don’t say that, lass, aye?” His accent is thicker now, a deep and throaty burr, making me ache with desire down to my soul. “I’m not the kind of man a woman like you needs. But maybe—” His eyes drop to my lips, his other hand tugging up the edge of my dress, and the look on his face is something so wholly unfamiliar to me that I’m not entirely sure how to describe it. It looks almost pained, like his desire hurts him; he feels it so deeply.
Like he’d die if I walked out of the room right now, even though he’d let me go anyway, if that was what I wanted.
“Maybe tonight, we can both be what we need,” I whisper, finishing the sentence for him as I lay my palm against his cheek, cupping his face the way he did mine. His stubble rasps against my soft skin, and he turns his head suddenly, pressing his lips to my palm before he suddenly drops to his knees, his hands pushing up my dress with an urgency that makes my own knees weak with desire.
“What I need right now, lass, is the sweet taste of that pussy on my tongue,” Niall groans, his fingers finding the edge of my panties with one hand as the other shoves my dress up to my waist.
What?I swallow hard, anxious uncertainty flooding through me at the same time that a jolt of pure, wanton lust throbs between my thighs.He’s going to—
I vaguely knew men did such things, sometimes, just like I knew in an academic sort of way that women did something similar to men. But I hadn’t thought—
I’d expected kissing and then for him to push forward to the main event—being inside me. In my head, that’s how men went about sex. That was what I’d gathered from what little I’d heard about it, from what my mother had circumspectly told me to expect, in very few words.
I hadn’t expected his mouth on my inner thigh as he dragged my panties down, a silky pair I’d thankfully found in my drawer, usually only worn when I needed to put on a formal gown. I don’t exactly own lingerie, so I’d been thankful to have something that seemed at leastslightlysexy. But now I’m not even sure Niall notices what panties I’m wearing; he’s in such a hurry to get them off. He seems focused entirely onme, his mouth on my skin, sending tingles of pleasure over every inch of my body as his mouth crawls upwards, and then—
My panties fall to the floor, and I awkwardly try to step out of them as Niall’s hands grip my thighs, spreading them apart. I’d thought of shaving earlier, worried that maybe a man wouldn’t like the dark curls of hair between my thighs, but I’d been too afraid. Niall doesn’t seem to care, though, his fingers stroking over my folds as I realize through a fog that I’m completely bared to him now from the waist down, my most intimate places revealed to a man in a way that they’ve never been before, and then—
He spreads me apart, his fingers sliding between, and I flush a bright red with the realization that he can seeallof me—and a sudden pleasure as his fingers start to explore that makes me light-headed.
“God, you’re soaking wet, lass,” Niall groans. I feel my cheeks flush with embarrassment because even I can feel how wet I am from just his touches and kisses, and aching in a way that I can’t even begin to explain. “So wet for me—”
When his tongue flicks over my clit, his fingers spreading me, my back arches away from the door as I let out a gasp that ends on a small cry, my hand automatically going to his hair as a burst of unfamiliar, exquisite sensation rushes over me.
“Oh god, Niall, I—”
He doesn’t respond, only runs his tongue over my soft folds, teasing me with small licks and the brush of his mouth over my most sensitive flesh, lingering as if he’s in no hurry. I feel myself starting to squirm against the door, thighs trembling as a sensation builds between my legs that I’ve always been too afraid to chase in the past, alone in my bed.
But I’m not alone tonight. I’m here, with the most gorgeous man I’ve ever seen, his mouth between my legs as my hand tightens in his hair and a series of small, mewling whimpers spill from my lips.
“Ah yes, lass,” Niall groans, his words vibrating against my skin. “I love when you make those noises for me.”
He does?I feel like I’m being too loud, too noisy, tooeverything,but he doesn’t seem to care. If anything, it seems to be turning him on, too, from the way he’s breathing quickly against me, his hands tightening hard on my hips as his mouth settles against me, the teasing stopped as he seemingly focuses in on a singular goal—although I’m not quite sure what that could be. His tongue slides over my clit again, and this time he stays there, circling and flicking. My back arches so deeply that it almost hurts as my nails scratch against his scalp, my other hand pressed against the door to brace myself.
It feels incredible, like nothing I’d ever thought to imagine. The wet heat of his tongue, the soft, warm fullness of his lips, all pressed against my most secret, intimate places—it seems both worshipful and filthy at the same time. I stare down at him through glassy eyes, this gorgeous man on his knees for me. On his knees to pleasureme. I’d thought, from what I’d read and heard in whispers, that it would be me going down on my knees for his demands. But all Niall has wanted so far is to give me pleasure—and I can feel that I’m on the brink of something more, some huge, bursting sensation that almost frightens me with the possible intensity of it.
“That’s it, lass,” Niall murmurs against my flesh, his words muffled as his tongue circles my clit again. His hands stroke my hips and outer thighs, and he runs his tongue over all of me again, seemingly uncaring that I’m so wet now that I must be drenching his face. I arch against him as he licks my clit again, and he moans. “Ride my face—ah fuck, come for me lass, yes—”
He murmurs the last as he feels my thighs start to shake, that burgeoning sensation rushing up now until it feels impossible to run from, to hold off, and I don’t think I want to any longer, either. It’s terrifying, but I’m also longing to know, to find out what comes next. As Niall’s lips press more tightly against me, his tongue lashing in the same exquisite pattern over and over, I feel my entire body go tense with a rush of sensation so strong that it overwhelms every sense that I have.
It feels like more pleasure than a body can hold, every muscle quivering, my nails digging into his skull as I throw my head back with a cry that’s nearly a scream, twisting against his mouth, his licking tongue, wanting it to go on forever. My knees go weak, buckling as his arm goes around my waist, catching me as I slide down the door. I feel limp, boneless, my body vibrating with aftershocks, and I can’t catch my breath.
Somehow we’re on the floor, the hotel carpet scratchy against my back as Niall leans over me. His cheeks are flushed, his lips damp with my arousal, but when he leans in, I kiss him anyway. I like the taste of us mingled together, sweet and sharp.
“Fuck,” he breathes against my mouth. “I want you so badly—”
“Yes, yes, please—” I pant the words against his lips, squirming beneath him as he finds the zipper of my dress, dragging it down. The fabric slides away like a dream, baring the rest of my skin for his hands, his mouth, and he fills his palms with my breasts, molding them and teasing the nipples with his fingertips as his lips drag down my throat. His breath feels warm against my skin, his muscular body hard against mine, and I can feel that deep, craving ache rising again.
His hips press into mine as he drags the dress down my body, hands everywhere. It feels as if he can’t get enough of me, can’t touch enough, and it makes me feel as if I’m burning up from the inside out, drowning in need. I feel desired, wanted, and I plunge my hands into his thick black messy hair, pulling his mouth down to mine again as I feel the hard press of his erection between my thighs.