Page 53 of Double Apex

“What would, um—?”

My words are absorbed by his intoxicating kisses. Dear God, this idiot is a great kisser—he has something like the tactile version of perfect pitch. Our lips slide and tease, delivering small bites and licks, and dammit, I’ve completely forgotten what I was going to say.

The words come back to me and I grab them.

“What would… the next step be… if I agree?” I ask between kisses.

He sucks my lower lip, then pulls away, smiling, and stands to remove his pajama bottoms. I try not to stare at his jutting cock, but it’s rather majestic, to be honest, and I know what he can do with it. I rise onto my knees and eagerly remove my clothes too.

“The next step,” he tells me, lying back down and gathering me into his arms, “is I make love to you.” Sketching a path of kisses down my neck, he strokes my back, over the curve of my ass, along my thigh, grasping behind my knee to bring my leg up to rest on his hip.

“Sounds like you’re doing all the work,” I say just above a whisper.

His hand slips between us and he places it over me, two fingers resting at my entrance and his thumb stroking my clit in languid circles. I gasp and tip my hips in encouragement.

“It will be an effort for you, I think,” he says, gently mocking. “I know how you are. Always fierce. You want hard, fast. A sexual blitzkrieg.” His fingers sink into my wet heat, and I moan. “Impatient girl. If I take you on the scenic route, can you relax and enjoy the view?”

Those strong, elegant fingers slide in deeper, curling to massage the little patch of pure bliss that harmonizes with what he’s doing to my clit. His mouth goes to my nipple and he lightly sucks, rolling and stroking with the tip of his tongue.

The scenic route is sounding pretty awesome on one hand (no pun intended), considering I want him to do this approximately forever. But unease shivers through me, because the scenic route is also a long time to be in a car with someone.What if you run out of things to say? What if conversation getspersonal?

A memory of Santorini—being annoyed when he wouldn’t tell me his fear and I accused him of being evasive—swims up, and I wonder:What changed?

He kisses my lips again. “So beautiful… so beautiful,” he’s murmuring against me, and I’m simultaneously swooning and calling bullshit, because this guy has reputedly banged half the runway at Paris Fashion Week, and I’m, y’know, I guesscute, but short and grouchy, with a big ass and the foul mouth of a longshoreman.

He starts a trail down my body, and everywhere his mouth touches is like something in one of those fairy tales where flowers sprout from the hoofprints of unicorns. My skin is alive, tingling.

“Tu esti sufletul meu pereche,” he whispers, and I have no clue what he’s on about, but frankly he could be ordering pizza in Romanian and it’d still make me weak in the knees—the knees he parts and settles between.

He presses an almost reverent kiss to my clit before he spreads me gently with his thumbs and applies his tongue and lips to the task of bringing mealmostto climax three times. Again and again, he lets my arousal partially retreat like a cat toying with a mouse until I whimper and mock beat his shoulders.

“Don’t be evil!” I wail as he kisses my inner thigh. I’m twitching hard inside, and it feels like a river of silver glitter is rushing through me. “Let me come, dammit…”

He sits up and takes my hands, pulling me upright onto my knees and turning me to hold the headboard.

My legs are humming with pre-orgasmic tension, and I’m dying for him to get his cock in me. I close my eyes, waiting for him to grab my hips. Instead, he nudges my knees wider and slides under the archway I’m creating, his head inches from my pussy.

“Lower, sweet one,” he instructs. “Let me taste that lovely cunt.”

My inhale snags in my throat, both lust and embarrassment surging through me in a wave. I look down at his passion-splayed pupils, the shine of his lips, already wet from licking me to the edge of control.

His hands grasp my thighs in encouragement, and my muscles tense. There’s nothing I want more than to settle over his mouth and have him finish what he’s started, but I’m too shy.

“Cosmin,” I falter.

“Mmm?” He lifts his head to deliver one tempting stroke of his tongue, then reclines with a sultry smile.

“I don’t, um, I don’t know about this. We should just do it the regular way. Right? I don’t want to suffocate you or something.”

He chuckles. “You won’t. I promise.”

“But it, uh, it seems impolite? Like, sitting ona person.”

His left eyebrow goes up. “Butthisperson very much wants you to. I’m aching to see those sweet tits bounce as you ride my face.” He kisses my inner thigh. “Do you not wish to, or have you simply not done this before?”

Clearing my throat, I swallow hard. “I haven’t. I kind of thought this was mostly made up—one of those sex things people say they do, but no one actually does.”

He squeezes my ass with both hands, then eases two fingers inside me and slides his thumb against my clit, waking up the hunger in me that was retreating from sheer nerves.

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