Page 132 of Beyond the Stroke

He lifts me off the counter, my legs automatically wrapping around his waist, while my breasts press against the soft fabric of his dress shirt. The simple feel of his firm hands against my bare back sends a rush of arousal between my thighs.

Gently, he sets me down on the bed, then hovers above me like a Herculean god here to assert his will.

I’m mostly naked and he’s still got his shirt and pants on.

“Are you going to take off your clothes?” I ask, propping up on my elbows to see more of him.

“Do you want that?” He smirks. “Or is it against the rules?” He motions to the walk-in closet. “I’m sure I have a turtleneck in there somewhere if that’s what you’re into.”

“Funny.”

“It was your suggestion.”

My lips press together, trying not to laugh as I shake my head. “Take off your shirt, Flipper.”

With torturously slow movements, Rory starts to unbutton his shirt. He’s toying with me. For all the times I’ve seen Rory walking around with no shirt on, there’s something extremely erotic about watching him undress. The way the fabric slidesover his shoulders. The ripple of his abdomen as he moves to pull one arm out, then the other. He hasn’t even touched me and it feels like my orgasm is imminent.

“Is that what you wanted, Wildflower?” With strong arms bracketing my head, he hovers above me, then drops a kiss to the corner of my mouth.

“Yes, and I want to touch you,” I find myself saying.

The corner of his lip quirks up. His knowing glance tells me everything. All my exasperation at him for being shirtless was merely frustration with myself for reacting to him. For wanting him. And even when I oiled him up at the campaign shoot, I’d felt hesitant. Unsure.

“I’m yours to touch.”

His words soothe me. They give me a sense of belonging that I’ve never had.

Lifting my hand from the bed, he kisses my palm, then places it against his chest.

My palms flatten against Rory’s pecs, appreciating the sturdiness of him. Shifting my eyes to his face, I stare up at him, watching his reaction as my hands map over his heated skin. When I reach the waistband of his pants, his jaw tightens and he lets out a restrained puff of air.

I’m going for the zipper on his slacks when he moves forward, pushing me back onto the bed.

“My turn.”

His lips are everywhere. My neck, my collar bone, my breasts.

Rory’s mouth has found its way back to my chest. Showing me, for the first time, what it feels like to have a man put my pleasure above his. To take the time to explore my body. With every touch my senses heighten, my heart rate kicks up and my breathing becomes shallow.

“Did you use your inhaler today?” he asks, chin propped on my belly button as he settles himself between my thighs.

“Yes.”

“That’s my girl.” He presses a kiss to my stomach, then pulls my thong down my legs and tosses it aside. “Now I can give you exactly what you need.”

When he says it, I believe him. I always thought I needed to be in control, but I don’t want that right now. Not with Rory.

So, when his palms press my thighs open, I let my knees fall and expose myself to him. In such a vulnerable position, I could easily feel self-conscious, but I don’t. Not with him.

Rory gazes between my thighs, then back up to my face.

“Look at you, Wildflower. Already so worked up, and I’ve barely touched you.”

It’s a teasing statement, but his tone is awestruck. Like a kid in a candy store who’s just been told everything inside is for them.

The liquid heat pooling at my core is for him. And he knows it. Dropping his head between my thighs, he flattens his tongue and licks up my center. That single lick has my eyes rolling into the back of my head.

“Fuck, Summer.” Rory groans against my center, before dipping his tongue inside me. “You taste like you were made to ruin me.”

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