Page 111 of Hoax and Kisses
“Gladly.”
He doesn’t stop kissing me as he pops the button of my pants and shimmies the fabric down my hips. My top goes next. Standing in my bra and underwear, I fumble with the buttons on his shirt. I pull hard on them, trying to force them to snap, but nothing gives.
Impatiently. Matt grasps either side and yanks, sending them flying. “There. Is that what you were trying to do?”
A thrill zips up my spine. “Yes.”
With shaky fingers, I slide the fabric down his arms, revealing the defined lines of his biceps, the taut ropes of his forearms, his chiseled frame.
I don’t remember lingering long on his chest the first time—not that I had time before he shoved me up against the closestwall—and maybe that wasn’t such a bad thing. If I’d gotten this kind of look at the glorious specimen before me, I would have spent weeks daydreaming about his solid arms alone, imagining him out in the forest, chopping wood. The perfect size to encompass me easily. And god, I’m ready for him to do just that.
I drag my focus lower, lingering at his navel. Fuck. I guarantee I would have daydreamed about that path of hair disappearing under his belt too.
“There’s no chance I’ll last if you continue to eye fuck me like that.” His voice is low and ragged, dragging heat up my spine.
He takes his fill, his eyes roaming my body. Every of my nerve ending is begging for him to touch, to stroke, to consume me.
When he finally unhooks my bra and tosses it unceremoniously onto the floor, I moan in relief.
Before the sound has time to die, he cups my breast, full and heavy, in his palm and squeezes. Face buried in my neck, he drops hot kisses below my ear, on my collarbone, my shoulder, until he’s right there. He hovers over my hard nipple, his warm breath sending goose bumps rippling over my skin. For a moment, he stays there. As if the bond tugging between us is too much for him, as if he, too, feels the tipping of this unstoppable moment. A before and an after.
But then his mouth is on me, and my mind goes silent.
Back arched, I press myself into his mouth.More, more, more.
“I know, beautiful. Fuck, I know.”
I’m too lost in the flick of his tongue to even question whether I begged him out loud.
His free hand finds my other breast. He rolls my sensitive peak tight between his fingers, then pinches. I gasp, dizzy.
“Fuck, I want to take my time, but I can’t.” He slides against my body, kissing his way down my sternum to my belly, until he’s on his knees before me. “I fucking can’t. Look at you.”
Fingers hooked in the waistband of my panties, he gazes up at me in a silent plea. I’m so wound tight, all I can do is nod.
Slowly, he drags my underwear down my legs, his knuckles brushing against me while his mouth creates a path from my thighs to my knees, then my calves.
Once I’m completely naked, he lets out a ragged breath. “Is this real life? How are you real?”
His hands cup the back of my calves and slide up, his calluses rasping against my skin until he grabs a handful of my ass.
On instinct, I sink my fingers into the softness of his hair.
“All I’ve been thinking about since Vancouver,” he says, grazing the tip of his nose against my center, “is how the hell can I get your taste on my tongue again? One taste. That’s all it took. One taste and I’m fucking addicted.” He opens his mouth and licks me without parting my lips, his tongue flat against me.
I dig my nails deeper into his shoulder, tug harder on his hair.Fuck.
“Matt, please.”
“I want more,” he groans, the guttural sound rumbling from his chest as he forces himself up and sits on the end of the bed.
He spins me between his legs and guides me so I’m straddling him. Cool air grazes my bare skin as I hover a few inches over him.
“What are you doing?” he asks when I don’t lower myself to his lap.
“I don’t want to stain your pants.”
His hold around my waist tightens, and he pushes me down onto his bulge.
