Page 84 of For the Plot
He turns to me, brows lifting. “I didn’t say that.”
“You were thinking it.”
He steps closer. “No, I was thinking about how good you look in that dress.”
My stomach swoops.
“You nervous?” he asks, voice low.
“No,” I lie. Then my voice drops. “Yes. A little.”
He doesn’t smile. He just closes the space between us in one slow, deliberate step. And kisses me. No hesitation. No warm-up. Just his mouth crashing down on mine like he’s been starving for it. Like he can’t hold back another second.
I melt into him. My hands curl in the front of his shirt, dragging him closer as he deepens the kiss, his tongue sweeping into my mouth like he owns it. He pulls me tight against him and I can feel it—his cock, hard against my stomach. I moan, grinding up against him.
He pulls back an inch, eyes dark.
“Turn around.”
“What?”
He spins me before I can ask again. His hand slides up the back of my dress, fingers brushing the curve of my ass. Then he gently pushes me toward the couch. I fall onto it, breathless.
He follows. Kneeling between my legs, he pulls me onto his lap. My dress rides high. My panties are already soaked. I kiss him again, hot and frantic, as I roll my hips against him. He groans against my mouth, his hands gripping my waist, guiding the movement. His cock grinds right where I need it, thick, hot, separated only by two thin layers of fabric.
“I need you,” I whisper.
“I know.”
I start to pull my dress up, but he stops me. His eyes lock on mine.
“Take me to your bedroom.”
My stomach flips. I nod, pushing off his lap and grabbing his hand. He follows me down the hall. The second we step into my room, he stops and looks around.
It’s not much. A double bed with wrinkled sheets. A dresser that leans slightly to the left. A nightstand cluttered with lip balm and paperbacks and my birth control alarm. I turn to face him, nerves rising again. But he’s not judging. He’s just watching me. Like he’s memorizing everything.
He steps forward, sits on the edge of my bed, and looks up at me.
“Come here.”
I approach the bed. He runs his hands slowly down the backs of my thighs, then up under the hem of my dress. He kisses the soft skin of my belly, nuzzling just above my waistband. I suck in a breath, threading my fingers in his hair. And then I lose track of everything but the heat between us.
He starts with my thighs. His mouth skims up the inside, kissing, teasing, making me tremble with every pass of his lips. His hands are steady, but there’s something almost reverent in the way he touches me.
“Lie back,” he commands.
The sheets are cool against my skin, my dress bunched around my hips, panties damp and clinging to me as I lie back. He kneels between my legs and hooks his fingers into the waistband, dragging them down slowly, his eyes locked on mine the whole time. When I’m bare, he exhales like he’s finally allowed to breathe.
“Look at you,” he rasps. “So fucking beautiful.”
His mouth covers me before I can say a word. I arch with a cry as he licks a long, slow strip from my entrance to my clit. Then again. And again, each pass more devastating than the last. I fist the sheets, hips bucking. But he holds me still—one arm across my stomach, the other gripping my thigh as he eats me like it’s his last meal.
“Reece— Oh my God?—”
He groans against me, the sound vibrating through my whole body. He pushes one thick finger inside me. Then another. Curling them just right.
My back bows off the bed. “Oh fuck— Don’t stop— Don’t you dare?—”
