Page 16 of Swept Away
His touch leaves me breathless, like the lust in his eyes.
“Still afraid of me…?” he murmurs with a hint of humor as he peers down and wedges his knee between my legs.
I pulse softly, instinctively pulling away yet pushing my chest out.
He rolls his hips, and his thigh brushes the sensitive spot between my thighs.
A gasp crawls up my chest.
“You like it…” he says, no longer asking questions, knowing exactly how I feel.
“Gemma…” he murmurs as if enthralled with how my name rings on his lips. “A beautiful woman…” he drones on, completely absent, his focus entirely on stroking me between my legs with his thigh.
I push out a troubled breath.
He moves closer, his touch more intense and hard to resist.
His hands squeeze my waist before riding up and touching my breasts.
It’s too much too quickly, yet a moan escapes my lips.
“Oh, yes…” he murmurs against my neck while I tilt my head back for him.
With his leg pressed into the apex of my thighs, he stops rolling his hips, my nipples hostage to his fingers, shooting arrows of pain over my body.
Sensual pain that feels like pleasure.
Pleasure that never wants to stop coming.
“Nice boobs, tiny waist, curvaceous hips…” he chants, every word ripping away my every insecurity. “I bet your pussy tastes sweet, too,” he says, and my thighs lock around his leg.
“Oh, yes, baby…” he goes on, moving his lips down my neck, giving me sultry kisses.
“Rub against me, baby. I want to feel your wetness through your shorts. I swear I’ll eat you out when you stain your little bottoms showing me how much you want me.”
The very words send a shockwave through my core.
He exerts more pressure against my slit, and a swirl of pulsations fuels my need for him.
He slides his hands down my spine, moves them past my waist, and grabs my ass.
The trickle of pleasure threatens to turn into a storm, as my chest starts heaving.
Staring down, he indulges in the view, his thigh teasingly stroking me between my legs, and I start to believe I just got my shorts wet and unlocked the next level in our little game.
I don’t even care whether he’ll eat me out or not.
Everything he does is out of this world.
He is that good. That skilled. That well-paced.
His fingers move down the curvature of my ass, and soon press against the damp fabric between my legs.
“I think we’re there,” he murmurs. “Let’s check first,” he adds, a smile tinging his guttural tone.
He slightly pulls away from me and drags his hands to my front.
One grabs the waistband of my shorts while the other slides in and trails below my navel.
