Page 51 of Forecheck
“Please.”
A breath later, the hooks were free, and he brushed the straps from my shoulders. Cool air bit at my nipples, tightening them into peaks. Brent lifted his hands and cupped each breast.
“Fuck.”
“You keep saying that.”
“You are perfect,” he whispered.
Instead of speaking—honestly, I was out of words—I leaned forward and flicked my tongue over one of his nipples like I’d been wanting to do since I unbuttoned his shirt. My hands flew to his belt, deftly undoing it, unzipping his pants, and pushing them to his ankles.
Even still wearing boxers—holy hell. I was beginning to understand why all he could manage to say was “fuck” because…same.
“You’re ridiculous,” I said, huffing out a little laugh.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” he asked, rubbing his thumbs over my nipples, causing me to arch into his touch, desperate for more.
“I know you’re a professional athlete and everything but…fucking look at you.”
“The feeling is mutual,” he growled, pulling me flush against his body. I’d seen the way his cock tented the front of his boxers,but having every hard inch of him pressed against my stomach with barely anything between us was an entirely different experience. “Do you see what you do to me?”
In response, I grabbed his hand, tilted my hips, and brought his fingers to my center. Even without touching it myself, I knew my panties were utterly drenched. I was fucking soaked for him.
“The feeling is mutual,” I quipped, shooting his words back at him.
I watched his eyes as the leash on his control snapped, as they darkened from clear blue to stormy. Before I could blink, I was flat on my back on the fluffy down comforter.
A heartbeat later, Brent surprised me by positioning himself not between my legs, but at my side, an elbow propping him up. His eyes never strayed from mine as he pushed my panties aside and slipped a finger into my pussy without warning.
“Oh, fuck,” I moaned, back arching at the intrusion. I wasn’t prepared other than being wetter than I’d ever been in my life, but I didn’t mind in the slightest. I’d envisioned this a thousand times, and having him touch me now was better than a dream.
Brent lazily pumped that finger in and out as I circled my hips, silently begging him to hit the spots I needed him to.
“I need…more,” I breathed. “I’ve never…not like this. Hardly ever period.”
My disjointed words made no sense, yet somehow, Brent understood me perfectly.
“You mean you’ve never come from someone finger fucking you? And that you’ve hardly ever come at all? Is that what you’re telling me, Blondie?”
I nodded. “At least not with someone else.”
“Ahh, so you can get yourself off just fine.”
Another nod.
“So let me guess. Now you think youcan’tcome like this.” With that final word, he pushed another finger inside.
I could only nod once more, too keyed up to speak, squirming against the mattress, bearing down on his hand in desperation for more friction.
“Well,” he said, withdrawing his fingers—much to my dismay—and holding them in front of his face. “You’ve never been with me.” His eyes met mine, and the absolute arrogance and complete confidence with which he spoke his next words had another wave of desire crashing over me. “I’m going to learn every inch of this body, Berk, and what exactly it takes to make you come. And then I’m going to do it over and over and over. With my tongue. With my cock. But tonight, we’ll start with my hand.”
Anticipation and the absolute filthiness of his words had my toes and fingers curling against the comforter, my clit throbbing from need.
And then to make matters worse—or better—Brent brought his fingers to his mouth and licked them clean.
“Mmm, you taste incredible. One day, I’m going to lap your sweetness right from your pretty pussy.”
I’d read enough romance novels that featured guys who talked dirty in bed, and I’d seen my fair share of porn. I didn’t think I’d be into it.
