Page 95 of Hard to Resist

I reach up and grip her face, thumb sliding against her jaw as I taste every inch of her lips. I have been waiting for this moment for so long that I can’t even think straight. My mind isn’t my own but hers.

All I can think about is kissing her, touching her, having her completely. Nothing makes sense except her plush lips on mine, her hand on my chest.

We are two wanderers in the desert who were searching for salvation, only to have found each other. We drink in the taste of our kiss like our first sip of water, thirsty, and desperate, and uncaring for anything else.

The lights dim, cloaking us in darkness as the ballet starts back up. The first notes of the orchestra resound through the hall, but we ignore it all, lost to each other.

I bend down slightly and hook my hands around Verity’s thighs, gripping the slippery fabric of her dress as I hoist her up. Her legs automatically wrap around my waist. With her back still pressed against the wall, I’m able to trail one of my hands along her thigh, playing with the skin dangerously close to her center.

Her arms go around my neck, fingers threading through the hair at the base of my skull in the most delicious way possible.

I groan into her, pressing my cock closer to her pussy as I devour her mouth.

I want her. I fucking want her so much.

Verity sighs against my lips, a little moan escaping as her hips angle forward slightly. The movement lights me on fire, my length straining against my pants with the need for her.

“You’re so fucking sexy.”

I feel her smile against my lips at the compliment, her fingers tightening in my hair as she drags me even closer. Our mouths are fused as one, not allowing even a breath of space between them as we consume one another with the fire burning between us.

I have no regrets in this moment, not even one. Everything I have done up to this point has been worth it to have this second with her.

“I want you.”

Those three words are my undoing. Every sane or rational thought in my mind disappears in the span of a breath. And when her hand moves down my chest, trailing lower until she reaches my length between our bodies and tentatively grips it, I’m gone.

My head pounds to the sound of her name, the feel of her body, the taste of her lips.

I drop one of her legs, lowering her so she has stability back on the ground. Her other leg stays hooked around my waist, and I press into her, the angle causing us both to moan.

I trail my hand up her thigh, caressing the skin that peeks through the slit in her dress. I stop only when I get to the top, thumb pressing into her flesh and dipping closer to her core.

“I want you, too. I want to feel you come undone. I want to taste how I make you weak. I want you to scream my name until it is burned on the back of your throat.”

I press my hand between our bodies, fingers slipping between the fabric until I find her pussy. The pads of my fingers trail along the evident patch of wetness pooling between her thighs, and I groan.

“God, you make it hard to resist you, angel.”

“Then don’t. All I want is right now, this moment, you. Make me yours. Make me come, Cullen. Please, get rid of this pressure that is turning me insane.”

Who am I to deny such a request?

Any patience I could possibly practice falls apart at those words, at her plea. I’m not a good enough man to ignore a woman begging, and I’m too selfish to not cave to her wants.

I push her underwear to the side, fingers tracing up her slick folds. My eyes just about roll back at the feeling of her wetness. I curl two fingers into her heat, my cock twitching at the sensation.

Verity’s breath hitches, her chest arching slightly as I take, and I take, and I take.

The heel of my palm rubs against her clit in hard circles, and I continue curling my fingers in quick motions, listening to the increase of her breathing with each of my movements. I learn the exact speed that causes her eyes to squeeze shut, the pressure that has her biting her bottom lip.

I pepper kisses down the side of her neck, nipping at her collarbone and leaving my mark.

The ballet continues around us, the music rising with the wave of Verity’s need.

Her pussy tightens, squeezing my fingers as she lets out a desperate moan. I keep up the pace, bringing her closer and closer to the edge. Her fingers dig into my shoulders, nailspoking into the fabric of my shirt and leaving marks on the skin beneath. The pain spurs me on, makes me even harder for her.

“Oh my God, Cullen. Please, I’m so—”

---