Page 70 of The Thief
He moved his arm, putting it around my shoulders, pulling me closer still. I liked the feeling of being this close to him, warm, like a cocoon that I could live in forever. I didn’t speak, just glanced up at him, and he lifted his hand to stroke my face, his thumb gliding gently across my cheek.
“Do you know what I love about you?” he asked.
My heart stuttered in my chest as I gasped, “What?”
“That you don’t know how fucking strong you are. Strong every day, keeping all this together.” His eyes gestured to the room around us, indicating what he meant. “Being a mum, always putting her first.” He moved his face closer to mine as he whispered, “I want you to letmeputyoufirst for a change. Because you”—he kissed my forehead—“are the most amazing”—a kiss on the tip of my nose—“smart”—he brushed his lips over mine—“stunningly beautiful, sexy woman I’ve ever met.”
I sighed, our lips so close our breaths danced together, and then he kissed me.
I closed my eyes, drowning in the feel of his lips. The warm taste of him, the sensual seduction of his tongue as it glided against mine like liquid silk. Kissing him felt natural, perfect, and then, the kiss deepened, his mouth pressing harder against mine. I groaned into the kiss as every feeling, every emotion intensified, escalating, growing like a snowball of sexual tension that we couldn’t control. And he groaned too. We couldn’t get enough.
I wrapped my arms around his neck like I was clinging on for dear life. Washed away in a sea of lust, and he was my only lifeline. The only thing I wanted, no,neededin this moment. I felt the weight of his body as he pushed me, coaxing me to lie on the sofa. I let my body fall back, and he held himself above me. But we didn’t break the kiss; we didn’t want to be parted.
I pulled him to me, my legs opening as he lay over me. I wanted him to be as close to me as he could get. Then I ran my fingers through his hair, nails scraping his skin, making him moan with pleasure.
I wantedhim.
I wanted him so fucking badly.
I could feel the wetness pooling between my thighs, the ache building, burning, begging for him to touch me.
He started to kiss my jaw, working his way down to my neck, and I groaned, “Fuck. Tyler. I want you.”
He licked and kissed my neck, then he bit my earlobe and groaned, “I want you so fucking bad, Jess. You have no idea.”
He used his leg to nudge me, forcing me to open mine wider, his knee pushing so he could settle his hips where I needed him to be.
I lifted my knees, wrapping my legs around his waist, and he ground his hips into my pussy, giving me the delicious friction I’d wanted, but I needed more. I craved it.
I could feel the hardness in his jeans, and I circled my hips, grinding back up into him. The need for him to go harder, closer, faster, more, made me reach down and grab his ass as he rocked against me, fucking me with our clothes on, making my pussy tingle and spark to life. I swear I was moments away from coming and he hadn’t touched me yet. Not really. Not the way I wanted him to. And I really wanted him to. I wanted what he was promising. Because with the movements of his hips, the roll and grind, he was promising the mother of all orgasms.
“Tell me what you want,” he moaned, as his lips worked their way from my neck to my jaw.
Then he lifted himself above me, his eyes boring into me as his face hovered inches from mine. His eyes were hooded, hazy with lust and need.
“Tell me, Jess,” he whispered. “Tell me what you want me to do.”
Isighed, lifted my hips to roll against his, and I said, “I want you to touch me, fuck me.”
“Touch you where?”
He ground his hips hard against my pussy, making me cry out.
“My... my pussy.”
His eyes never left mine, adding to the intensity of it all, and he licked his lips slowly and asked, “With my fingers? Or would you prefer my tongue?”
“All of it,” I gasped. “I want you to do all of that.” I could barely get my words out; I was so delirious with need.
His eyes burned as he lowered himself to kiss me again, taking my mouth with so much force I grabbed his shoulders to steady myself, and I moaned greedily, opening my legs wider to show him what I wanted.
I felt his hand move lower, skating over my thighs, then brushing the inside of my leg as he traced a delicious line to where I needed him the most. Our mouths devoured each other as his hand moved up, under the skirt of my dress, and then, with the lightest of touches, he stroked my pussy through my underwear. I cried and closed my eyes, my hips bucking with how sensitive I felt.
He groaned, “So fucking wet for me, and I haven’t even touched you yet. You’re fucking perfect.”
And the way he spoke with such a gravelly, deep voice, along with the desperation I felt, made me beg him, “Please, Tyler. Please.”
“You need me, don’t you?” he said, his fingers stroking the seam of my underwear.
