Her tits. Her flat belly. Her legs locked around my hips while I thrust and she throws her head back, screaming my name.
I come so hard I can't even gasp, my breath stolen by fantasies of Erica. I keep pumping until I'm done and my ears are ringing because I've forgotten to breathe.
Tonight, that fantasy will become reality.
And I do take a shower. Then I get busy preparing for my first shag with Erica Teague.
Chapter Thirteen
I spend the better part of the day arranging everything for Erica's surprise. I shouldn't care about making her happy, but I'd come up with my plan because she seems melancholy sometimes, and I inexplicably feel the need to make her smile. Tonight, I will ensure she also comes so hard she can't speak afterward. Aye, that will take her mind off thebod ceannwho harasses her. Presley, whatever his last name is, deserves more than a skelping. He should be in prison.
But I only thought about him twice today, too absorbed in preparing for my night with Erica to worry about anything else. Now I'm standing in the hallway of Gil's house, a few feet from the entrance to the living room where I can see Erica still sitting on the sofa. I had ordered her to wait for me. Ordered her politely. The lass is doing what I asked, not even glancing over her shoulder for a peek.
Does she trust me? She must if she's willing to follow my commands. Erica doesn't seem like the sort who does what she's told without question, not unless she feels safe with that person.
I can't decide if I like that she trusts me.
Since the living room is at a lower level than the hallway, I have a good view of most of Erica's body. She has her hands clamped over the sofa's edge and her erse balanced inches away from slipping off the cushion. Is she excited or nervous? Possibly both. I feel a bit of both too, which definitely means I'm off my head, but I don't care anymore if I am. The chance to be with Erica tonight drowns out any anxiety I might've experienced and erases the rest of the world.
After checking that she's still waiting as ordered, I hurry back to the bedroom to finish setting things up in there. Once I've done that, I move back to the doorway so I can survey what I've accomplished. Everything is perfect. I'm missing only one thing.
The woman for whom I've done all of this.
I walk carefully and quietly while I make my way back to the living room and hesitate with one foot on the top step. Below me, Erica still waits on the sofa. She looks bonnie, as always, but I love the way she's dressed tonight. Her blue jeans hug her thighs and hips, and a white satin blouse clings to her bosom, the combination of those two items of clothing making me want her even more. I think she'll like what I'm wearing, since she liked it the last time she saw me dressed this way, and I cannae wait to see the look on her face.
Erica fidgets on the sofa, then kicks off her shoes. They feature moderately high heels, and the slender straps on them draw my attention to her ankles. Or they did, at least, before she got rid of the shoes. She has the sexiest ankles I've ever seen.
She drums her fingers on the sofa cushions and shouts, "Are you done yet?"
Her words vibrate my eardrums, since I'm standing eight feet away at most and she shouted her question with more volume than I would've expected from a woman as refined and sweet as Erica. I like it, though. I like everything about her.
Tiptoeing like a burglar, I approach the back of the sofa and slide my hands through her hair from behind. She startles, but only for a second and only the slightest bit. I smooth my fingertips down her cheeks, loving the warmth and silky softness of her skin. She doesn't move, not even to glance up at me. I place a soft kiss on the crown of her head, then lean over to feather my lips over her forehead. "This is a lesson in patience."
"Already told you I suck at that."
"Shut your eyes."
"Why?"
"Please." I exhale a heated breath over her forehead.
She clenches the sofa cushions, rolling her eyes up so our gazes lock.
It's a bit odd looking at her face upside down, but the desire simmering in the depths of her golden-brown irises entrances me, and I can't think of anything except how badly I need to kiss every inch of her body. With my fingers still on her cheeks, I ease her head back to get an even better view of her eyes and her face. Aye, that also gives me a fantastic view down her blouse, where I can glimpse the slopes of her breasts. I lick my lips and skim them down the bridge of her nose, then back up again. "Trust me, sweet."
Her shoulders slacken, and her eyelids drift shut.
The lass does trust me. But why?
I push the thought aside and focus on Erica, peppering kisses on her lids and touching my lips to her temple, then I pull out the only item I hadn't left in the bedroom. I lay the scarf over her eyes and start to tie it behind her head.
"Whoa," she says, sounding uncertain. "A blindfold? I don't know about this."
"I'll take it off if you like, but I was hoping to unveil your surprise after we're in the bedroom." I brush her hair away from her shoulders. "Can you trust me?"
"Yes."
She didn't hesitate, not for even half a second. And I still cannae comprehend why she lets me do whatever I want to her.