Page 78 of Awaiting the Storm
She tilts her head to look at me. “Thanks for dinner.”
“Thanks for wearing this shirt,” I say as I finger the hem that rests high on her bare thigh.
Her smile is soft. “It was starting to lose your scent. I was hoping you’d rub yourself on me and recharge it.”
Fuck me.
I plunge my hands into her hair and yank her head back so I can crush my mouth to hers.
His mouth collides with mine, and he kisses me hungrily as I unfold my legs and wrap them around his waist. His hands roam my body. Slide under my shirt—his shirt—as he slowly lowers us and comes over the top of me. My head falls back against the cool leather, and I reach up and thread my fingers into his silky, dark hair and pull him closer. He presses his body into mine, and the evidence of his need is pulsing against my stomach. The warmth permeating from the woodstove and the heat of him envelop me.
My body starts trembling with need, and I plant my right foot and bear up, trying desperately to get closer to him.
I arch my back, and his flannel shirt stretches across my aching chest. I slide my hands from his hair and down his back, the tips of my fingers digging into his muscles.
He lets out a guttural groan as his mouth runs down the column of my throat, sucking and nipping as he makes his way to my breast.
The desire that pulses through me takes me by surprise. I’ve never wanted a man so intensely before. My body has never felt this electrified, just from a touch. I long to explore and kiss every inch of his skin.
I grip him tighter as he undoes the top few buttons of the shirt and his tongue explores the top of my bare breasts. An exquisite tingle shoots straight down my spine as he sucks the nipple of one between his teeth while he caresses the other.
God, that feels so good.
I purr my encouragement as I fight to tug the hem of his shirt from his jeans.
He brings his head up at the sound, and before I have a chance to complain, he leans up and practically rips through the buttons of his shirt.Then he reaches behind his neck, grasps the collar of his T-shirt, yanks it over his head, and tosses them both to the floor.
I sit up and begin to fumble with the button of his jeans, and he places his hand over mine, stopping me.
“Matty,” he says, his voice strained.
My name tumbles from his lips in a raspy plea, and I know he’s giving me a moment to make sure this is what I want.
I capture his mouth, sucking his bottom lip between mine, and he releases my hand. I ease his zipper down slowly, and he is hard and ready as I reach in to release him from his boxer briefs.
I hold the base of him with one hand as I stroke him firmly with the other. Running the nail of my finger down the steely ridge. He twitches in my grip, and his breaths grow ragged as he watches me.
“Baby,” he murmurs as his hands drop to my neck and grasp me tightly.
He’s asking for permission.
I dart my tongue out and lick his bottom lip as I continue to stroke him.
“Yes,” I gasp, and the heat in his eyes as he watches me almost melts me into the leather.
He groans, and his hands fist in my hair. I fall back to the couch, and he undoes the rest of the buttons of the shirt I’m wearing.
I mutter unintelligible things as his mouth finds my breasts again. I can sense that he is holding on to his control by a thin thread as he takes his time. Kneading and nipping at the sensitive mounds as he slides the flannel off my shoulders.
Once he has me completely naked, he starts to nibble and lick his way down my body at a maddening pace. Stroking and caressing every exposed inch of skin until I’m a desperate, trembling mess.
When he reaches my thighs, he gently presses them apart and growls low and deep in his throat, and it sounds like a strangled cry as he finds me wet and ready for him. He drags a finger across my core and then brings it to his lips, sucking my arousal from the tip.
I watch his face as he looks at me, bare for him. His breaths start to come quick, and he groans my name before I feel his mouth on me.
He spreads me with his fingers, and his tongue starts to explore my overheated flesh.
I thrust my pelvis forward as I cling to his hair.
