Page 6 of Pucking One Night Stand
I pin her wrists down against the comforter, holding her there, just for a second. Her chest rises and falls, pupils blown wide as she stares up at me.
Then I lean in, dragging my lips over her shoulder, breathing her in, feeling her shudder beneath me. Her body shifts, pressing up against mine, chasing the friction, making it impossible not to lose myself in this.
My shirt’s in the way. Without breaking contact, I let go of her wrists just long enough to pull it off, letting it drop to the floor. I’m immediately back on her, my hands sliding over the sleek material of her dress, feeling the lithe muscles beneath it..
I kiss her palm, then her wrist, my lips trailing up her arm as my fingers find the zipper of her dress.
A sharp inhale. Then I tug it down.
Her head tips back as I kiss my way over the curve of her collarbone, down to the swell of her chest, taking every inch of her in, feeling the way her body moves beneath me.
“Jesus,” she whispers, her voice all breath and heat. “You really do want me, don’t you?”
I don’t stop. Don’t answer right away.
Then, against her skin, I murmur, “Uh… no. Told you, you’re not my type.”
Because hell, if she suddenly sits up and laughs, tells me she knew I’d cave, yeah. I need to at least pretend I'm still playing the game.
But then her hands are back on me, pulling me in, working the tight material of her dress down over her hips as I help her out of it.
And when she’s finally there, stripped down to nothing but underwear and smooth, bare skin beneath my hands, I’m amazed.
Damn, her body looks even better in real life than it did in my imagination.
Her hands slide down my stomach to work at my belt.
It does cross my mind to stop her, to pull back, to say, ‘Told you so. ’
But that thought vanishes the second I look at her. This woman. This unbelievably gorgeous, infuriating, impossible woman.
She gets my belt undone, and her fingers move lower, to the button of my pants. Slowly, deliberately, like she’s making damn sure I feel every second of this.
I groan against her throat, kissing my way down to the lace covering her breasts and dragging my tongue over the black fabric, feeling the way her body arches up into mine.
My pants? Yeah, those are gone. Kicked off somewhere. I barely even notice because she’s looking at me now, staring down at what’s left between us.
Her lips part. Her breath catches. Then, in a voice that’s near trembling, she whispers, “Damn…you are a big boy, aren’t you?”
I smirk and lean back down, brushing my lips over hers and feeling her shudder beneath me.
“Too much for you?”
Her eyes flick up to mine, flashing with something that looks a hell of a lot like another challenge.
I don’t wait for the answer.
I kiss her again, deeper this time, harder, as my hands slide around her back, finding the clasp of her bra, and unhooking it.
Cassy's breath breaks as the fabric loosens; her eyes lock onto mine. There's more than a spark there. It's more like need and desire. She doesn't look away.
Instead, she lets the straps slip down her shoulders, the lace falling away to reveal skin that's smooth and flawless. Her breasts are pert, perfect, and I can't help but admire the view.
“You're staring,” she whispers, a hint of amusement in her voice.
“Can you blame me?” I lean back down, pressing my lips just above her breasts, feeling her heartbeat quicken under my touch. I move to the other side, repeating the gesture, before gently biting her nipple.
“Ouch...” She lets out a quiet moan, her back arching slightly.
