Page 138 of The Bet
“Is this what you had in mind?” he asked, his voice was thick, and raspy, and loaded with intent.
She made an agreeing noise in her throat, as she succumbed to the now familiar taste and feel of him against her. His fingers rested against the nape of her neck, while his thumb stroked her cheek. Her heartbeat raced, and her body loosened, as if it was remembering. They kissed like the last time, intense, and for a long time, and deep, as if they were in the throes of lovemaking. And she wished they were for it had opened up again, that void, an emptiness inside her, an ache that needed him.
“You make it all better,” she told him, when he stopped and stared at her. “Everything,” she murmured, feeling his hard chest pressing into her breasts. This had been the comfort she had been searching for all along. Being away from him had made her want to come running back for more.
She reached for him, sliding her hand down between their bodies, passing over the bulge in his jeans. “Izzy,” he groaned, low and hoarse.
She sighed into his mouth, and unzipped his jeans, touching the soft fabric of his boxer briefs, and feeling his hardness. His groan was a mixture of agony and joy when she moved her hand up and down, slowly, teasing, playing. With a drawn out moan, he moved her hand away, but she slipped it under his t-shirt and onto his bare skin, moaning in surprise at the feel of his abs.
Hard, hard, hard.
“Fuck, Izzy,” he ground out, and pushed himself off the couch.
“What are you doing?” she asked, lifting her head.
“Making you feel better,” he replied, his fingers skating around the waistband of her pantyhose. He was kneeling on the floor, facing her, as she lay, hot and sweaty on the couch, and then, without saying a word, his hand slipped under her skirt, his eyes fixed on hers, as if checking to see if she wanted this.
She did.
She shifted her body down, letting him know that she didn’t object, raking her fingers through his hair as he peeled off her panty hose. Her heartbeat rocketed dangerously.
He didn’t take her panties off, but moved the fabric to one side, and the sudden kiss of cold air cooled her hot, exposed skin for the briefest of seconds before his thumb moved in slow and deliberate circles. She bit her lip as ripples of pleasure circled outwards all over her body. With a hand splayed across her chest, and the other still in his hair, she arched her back as he slowly slid his finger slid inside her. Slow and teasing, and making her gasp.
It was gentle at first, his finger sliding, and twisting, and his thumb moving around on her tip; two sensations, two different pressures, two sources of ecstasy. She couldn’t keep it in, her low, wanton gasp as she tried not to writhe, tried not to mewl.
Her body was heat, and his touch like magic. And when he slipped in another finger and dove deeper, reaching her innermost crevices, making her legs fall apart at the knees, she opened up, completely at his mercy.
Xavier Stone was taking his sweet time pleasuring her, and all she wanted was more, more, more. Her muscles relaxed as she took all she could from him, moaning and mewling to his probing. It had never been this fast before, her getting so wet, and so hot, and so turned on, and he’d done it instantly, and when he hooked his fingers inside her, she groaned like never before.
“You feel so good, Izzy,” he whispered, kissing her just above the waistband of her panties, making her shift uncomfortably at the idea that his face was so close to her most intimate part.
“Youfeel so good,” she breathed, biting back a moan. He made her feel loose, like liquid, hazy and heady. With his fingers buried deep inside her, and moving and twisting as he pleased, he left a trail of kisses along her stomach, until he found her lips again. And then his kissed her again, teasing her lips with his, before their tongues met and swirled together in a slow dance.
Wetness above and below.
With his fingers hooked so deep inside her, and his thumb circling her tip, he lifted his head up, and stared down at her. Her body jerked unashamedly, her hips bucking, short, and fast, and the whole time he watched. Saw her writhe and squirm, tremble and clench as the pressure built up in her belly.
“Fuck, Izzy,” he groaned, “You’re so wet, I want to …” But she closed her eyes, rolled her head back and was lost in the throes of her wet explosion.
She couldn’t stifle her moans, not when she came, not when she fell apart at his bidding. She had given up her sensibilities, letting him do this and watch, while he was still clothed, and as yet untouched by her.
When it was over, when he moved his hand away, she lay there, her insides still dissolving into jelly. She was breathless and drowning in pleasure when he left a short, wet kiss on her lips.
He had given her exactly what she had needed. Now she had to summon the energy to give back. She adjusted her clothing, and sat up, planting her feet on the floor, reaching forward and clamping her mouth over his, drinking deep into his kiss, needing to connect, and taste and savor him. With her other hand she reached for his boxer briefs, his thick hardness bigger than before.
His hand stilled over hers as she tried to move the zipper down
“You don’t have to,” he rasped.
“I want to,” she murmured, her need great, to see, and touch, and to do to him what he had done to her. “Stats can wait.”
“What can wait?” he asked in a hoarse whisper.
“My stats test.” She tried to move her hand, but his hand held firm over hers. “You have a test tomorrow?” he asked, his face red, his breath hot. She squeezed him, gently, saw his lips part, knew he liked it, the way her hands caressed him. “Yes, but,” she leaned down again, heard his disappointed groan. “You have to go and prepare for your—”
“It can wait,” she insisted, the heat inside her igniting again, as she stroked him harder. He let out a short groan, and pulled her hand away. “Thiscan wait.”
“But you’re so har—”
