I perch on the edge of the bed, pretty sure I’ve never been more anxious or needy about anything. When he doesn’t make a move, doesn’t do anything but stare at me a thread of nervousness ebbs its way through my brain, and as old insecurities creep back in, I begin to doubt everything, especially the part about me being perfect.
Has he changed his mind?
Not wanting him to read the worry on my face, or watch me run from the room if he’s having second thoughts, I make a move to turn the light back out.
“Don’t,” he says so abruptly, so firmly my hand stops midair and my gaze flies to his. “I want to see you, Fallon. All of you. Every goddamn beautiful inch. I want to admire your full breasts, run my hands along your lush curves and bury my mouth between your legs until you’re screaming my name and coming so hard nothing else in the world matters but what we’re doing in this bed.”
“I…I want that too,” I say, barely able to hear as my heart pounds in my ears.
With that he tugs off his shirt and tosses it to the floor, gifting me an up close and personal view of his rock-hard body. My fingers itch and I’m practically salivating as I stare, memorizing every groove and valley to call on later, when I’m alone in bed. The man might have been letting a few things go this summer, but his fitness isn’t one of them.
“Your turn,” he says. “Shirt off.”
I glance down at my sundress. “I don’t have a T-shirt,” I say and one corner of his mouth turns up in a playful grin.
“I know.”
A chuckle bubbles in my throat, thrilled to see the playful Jamie back. “Fine then,” I say and stand. I grip my dress, and hesitate for a brief moment before peeling it off. His eager eyes leave my hands and move to my face to assess me.
“You’re beautiful, Fallon. I can’t wait to get my mouth and hands on all your sweet curves. Trust me on that.”
With his encouragement, a new kind of confidence bubbles up inside me. I pull my dress off and let it fall to the floor in a heap near his shirt. The groan that follows gives me a burst of confidence as I stand before him in nothing but my bra and panties. He rips into his jeans and kicks them off, and I take in his huge erection pressing insistently against his boxer shorts. Holy, the man is nothing short of perfection.
“Your turn,” he says.
“I don’t have pants,” I say, playing along with this game as I study the tattoos on his body and consider their significance.
“I know,” he says again, giving me that devilish grin that is turning me inside out.
“Fine then.” I grip the thin elastic on my panties, toy with them for a minute and I’m about to pull them off when his voice stops me.
“Slow,” he whispers, and my heart misses a beat. “Nice and slow, Fallon. I want to enjoy every second of this.”
I gulp. Good God, I’ve never done a strip-tease before, but I’m sensing that’s exactly what he wants from me, and I can’t help but want to give it to him. Who knew that behind closed doors Jamie would be a dirty-talking, take charge kind of guy. I almost want to stand on the roof and scream hallelujah. I wiggle my hips and his tortured moan fuels the hunger in me.
“Like this?” I ask and move my hips, rotate them in a way he clearly finds sexy, judging by the harsh breathing sounds he’s making.
“Just like that,” he says softly, and pulls his cock from his boxer shorts. He strokes himself and I can’t believe what I’m seeing. The man has no shame and I absolutely love it.
“Turn around,” he says, his voice a soft command that excites me on even more. As my sex moistens in anticipation, he continues with, “Legs together, knees locked, and bend forward to remove your panties.”
A thrill races through me when I get what he’s after. I turn, and keeping my legs together, and knees locked, I slide my panties down my thighs, giving him a view of my very curvy backside. Never in my life would I have had the guts to do something like this, even when I was thin. But something about this man, something about the way he’s gazing at my body—like he wants to worship every inch of me—heats me in a way I’ve never been heated, and kicks any lingering self-doubt out the door.
“Yeah, that’s it. That’s so fucking it,” he growls. “So hot, Fallon. So hot I might just come in my hand.” A little yelping sound rises in my throat as I discard the panties. “Now turn around and show me that pretty cunt of yours. I want your legs s
pread wide for me.”
I turn on wobbly knees and face him. No man has ever talked to me the way he is right now. But damned if I don’t need it—love it. It makes me more eager to hand myself over to him, let him do whatever he wants to my quivering body. His gaze drops to take in my sex and I widen my legs without hesitation, bare myself to him. My sex is hot and wet, aching for his touch. His eyes jerk to mine, and he brushes his tongue over his bottom lip.
“I can’t wait to get my mouth on you,” he whispers his voice rough with urgency.
“What are you waiting for?” I say, bolder than I ever have been in my entire life.
He tears off his boxers and steps up to me. Sliding one hand around my waist, he none so gently tugs me firmly against him. Our bodies crash. Burn against each other. His other hand opens my bra with an expertise I don’t want to think about. He frees my full breasts, and his gaze drops to take in my nakedness as my lacy bra sails to the floor.
“Fucking gorgeous,” he says and cups both breasts, kneading and squeezing so hard my sex clenches with pleasure. His thumbs brush my nipples and they harden even more. I’ve never come from nipple stimulating before, but I’m close, so close it’s insane. “These are all mine tonight.”
“Yes,” I say and he dips his head, takes one marbled nipple into his mouth and sucks so hard I throw my head back and shamelessly cry out his name.