Page 48 of His Hot Mess

I smiled as I worked my way down the buttons of his shirt. "Not yet.”

"Well, you are. It's taking everything I can manage not to throw you back down and—”

I looked into Chris's eyes. "Fuck me?"

He groaned. "Don't say things like that, Sadie."

"Like what?"

He dropped his hands to my neck, curling his fingers and running the back of them down the slope of my throat. "You knowwhat."

I pulled his shirt over his shoulders, sucking in a breath at the sight of his bare chest. Even though I’d seen him in a snug t-shirt, I was surprised at just how thickly muscled he was. Maybe it was his composed, straitlaced attitude, like only egotistical men could look this good.

The ridges of his muscles danced under my fingers as I ran my fingers down his chest and stomach. "You never told me you looked so good under your clothes.”

Chris grinned. He was the most humble man I’d ever met. He had everything to brag about, but he never did. He never talked about himself at all.

He became serious as I brought my hands down to his buckle. I could see him straining beneath his jeans, and after pulling open his belt, I brought my hands down, feeling his hardness through the denim.

“Sadie,” he said, his voice almost like a warning.

I unbuttoned his jeans and reached my hand in, slipping my fingers below his shorts. His skin was hot under my touch, his cock stiff as I pulled it out. I drew my fingers up its length and he tipped his head back, groaning.

“Stand up,” I said.

Chris obliged. I knew, in that moment, he was the sexiest man I’d ever seen. It wasn’t just his bare, rippling chest, or his cock out while his jeans still clung to his hips, belt buckle dangling. It was all of him. His steady calm. His lack of ego. And something soft and tender under his rock-hard exterior that I saw when he looked in my eyes.

I pulled him toward where I sat on the edge of the wood. I wanted to taste him. To have all of him in my mouth.

I had never initiated this before—going down on a man was something men seemed to always want, with a kind of selfishness that had turned me off before. But Chris wasn't selfish. I didn't think he knew how to be. And even if he'd begged me to do just this, I’d have wanted to.

I wanted to have control over his pleasure.

Hovering with his cock at my lips, I asked in a voice like honey, "Do you want me to suck your cock, Chris?"

He looked down at me and hesitated, as if he didn't want to admit wanting it. But I could see he was desperate for it. For me.

I grinned. Then I took him into my mouth. All of him; drawing him in further and further until he hit the back of my throat.

He gasped, threading his hands through my hair.

Slipping my hand under his balls, I tugged at them as I pulled him into me.

“Sadie," Chris breathed. He reached down and took my free hand, pressing it up against his chest as I moved my lips up and down his length. His heart thudded under my fingers."Sadie... god, Sadie..."

I went faster, tugging gently on him again with my hand until suddenly he pulled away. “No,” he said. "Not yet."

He pulled me to standing. "You didn't like it?” I asked, my voice teasing.

“I did. Too much. But I want more. I want to do what I haven't been able to get out of my head all weekend.”

“What's that?"

“I already told you Sadie. I want to fuck you.”

The words made heat spike between my legs, and I wrapped my arms around his neck, dropping kisses along his chest as he brought his hands down to my jeans and undid them, jerking them off with my underwear too. He was somehow rough and gentle in his urgency and my pussy clenched knowing how much he wanted me.

He stepped out of his own jeans and lifted me up into his arms again, laying me down on the wood. There was something about the hardness of the planks under my skin—their cold rough hardness under the soft heat of our bodies—that was indescribably hot.

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