Page 60 of Last First Love
No, it's more than that.Iwantto taste him. He feels like he'd be delicious.
He finally looks at me. "Hey Lily. Is everything okay? We don't have to—"
And because those words are nothing but stupid, I make sure to smother them with a very aggressive kiss. He makes a delicious moaning noise when I do, telling me I must be doing something right, despite my general lack of experience with being the aggressor in any sort of sexual situation.
"You're so wrong that it hurts." I stroke him harder, a little faster. "We definitely have to. And if you don't get all of our clothes off immediately, we're definitely going tohave towhile we're still mostly dressed. Maybe even standing up right here."
His cock throbs at the heated promise of my words. "Why did you stop then?" His voice is rough, pained sounding. And I did this to him. I singlehandedly rendered him undone, and the knowledge fills me with pride, feminine satisfaction that runs bone deep.
"Because I want to taste you, to feel you in my mouth."
His eyes darken at my words and he reaches for me and rips my shirt off me, tearing it in two like it's a party trick or the material is as flimsy as a piece of tissue paper. It's hot as hell that he literally tore my clothes off, baring my skin to him like I'm the treasure that he's raiding tonight.
"Will you let me?" The words slip out and even I can hear the uncertainty in my tone. I'm definitely not this girl, the one who asks or begs, and I'm definitely not the girl who takes what she wants. I've lived my entire life on whatever scraps of affection I could grab ahold of from the men who spent time with me, the ones who always seemed to show up to any sexy times with a list of things that they wanted me to do differently with my hair, my body, my everything.
But not Ken. I can tell his entire attention is on me, and I know he likes what he sees. I can feel his appreciation throbbing there against the palm of my frantic hand.
"Another time," he hisses out, teeth clenched against my touch. "Need you."
A thrill courses through me, electric. I've rendered him unable to form complete sentences now. If this were a competition, I'm pretty sure I just won.
With the knowledge coursing through my veins, I give him my best sultry look, through the curtain of my eyelashes. "Why did you stop then?"
The echo of his earlier words snaps the last remnant of his self-control, and I suck in a sharp breath as he reaches for me, tugging me against him with savagery that I didn't know existed in him.
"Lily," he groans out as he tangles me up in a flurry of teeth and grasping hands. "I've been dreaming about you, but you're always so much better in real life than what I imagined."
His hot breath on my skin leaves a trail of goosebumps behind, which he traces with his mouth, the soft scratch of his beard against me threatening to make me beg him to do me right here, right now.
I slide my hand along the shape of his face, tracing along the edge of his hairline to his ear, then his jaw which is busy working at the skin bared right above my bra.
His tongue and teeth are tracing some pattern there that I believe ends at my nipple, sharp as a knife and straining against the confines of the lacy bra I'm wearing. And as quickly as I think it, his mouth covers my nipple, the heat and tease of his tongue and lips ferocious against my skin, even with the barrier of the lace between us.
I've honestly never spent this much time thinking about how my nipples might make me feel like my entire skin is too small, but apparently Ken has. He kisses, licks, sucks, and pinches me like a maestro tuning his instrument. And the music he draws from me is arousing, hotter than I'd anticipated, the sounds of his attention mingling with my sharp pants and the occasional low keening sounds that keep escaping from the back of my throat.
"My jeans," I manage to utter, in between sharp breaths and moaning like I'm suffering under his touch. "Please take off my jeans."
He lifts his face from my chest, his lips swollen and his eyes fierce. "Well, since you asked nicely." He lunges for me again, pulling me tight next to him and deftly unfastening the button and zipper on my jeans. I guess I should be grateful he didn't rip these off too, because as hot as it was when he did it to my shirt, I can't quite imagine trying to go home without any pants on.
But when he slides down my body to kneel before me, it turns my heart inside out. And to think I'd almost given up on this, on us. All because of gossip, the same heavy burden I've carried like a stone around my neck ever since the very first time someone called me fat.
I can't believe I almost messed this up. I came this damned close to spending the rest of my life without knowing what it looked like when Ken Daniels took my pants off, and I'm not sure I can easily forgive myself for how near a miss this was. Because the sight of the man of my dreams removing my clothing is enough to fuel a thousand fantasies, especially when I see the look on his face.
Adoration.
It's the same look I'd given him a thousand times when we were growing up. And to see my own feelings etched right there in the shape of his handsome face is an aphrodisiac like nothing else. Whatever residual shyness still lingered in the back of my mind is obliterated by the intense, worshipful way he removes my jeans and folds them neatly on the floor.
As if he's the one who's privileged to be a part of this moment. Almost as if my nudity is a gift for him, instead of the prelude to hot, sweaty orgasms for us both.
His eyes trace up the length of my body, every dip and swell and pucker and lump that I've always felt so ashamed of. Until now, when the man of my dreams is looking at me like I'm a treasure he's finally found.
"You're amazing, Lily." He wraps his hands around my legs and eases them apart, then starts a long, slow kissing ascent up the insides of my calves, the backs of each knee, then ever-so-slowly up my thighs.
I lean back and brace myself against the wall, even though I want more than anything to sink my fingers into his thick, dark hair.
"Please," I whisper. Then in case he didn't hear me, I say it louder, urgency coloring my voice. "Please."
His fingers ghost along my soaking wet pussy, a hint of a touch along the outer edges, a promise of pleasure in the near future. "You're so polite. Are you always this polite when you've driven a man to his knees?" He kisses me at the apex of my thighs, a quick, soft kiss that does nothing to ease the ache that's building there.
