Page 83 of Out on a Limb
Maybe my willingness to be sexually forward was going to pay off after all. “I like when you growl like that.” I tucked my knees up the sides of his hips, ready to experience the full effect of his body thrusting against mine. “I can imagine what it would feel like if you growled while you—” The rest of the admission was lost, sealed off by his mouth before I could lay out the full extent of all I’d imagined Andrew doing to me.
And there was plenty.
His kiss was rough and a little desperate, which only made me crazier.
And I was a little crazy to start with.
When his lips left mine to work their way down my neck I sucked in a breath, trying to get some air. His teeth raked against my skin in a way that sent goosebumps racing down my limbs, along with a shiver that tightened my still sensitive nipples. The pucker toed the line of pain and pleasure, making me gasp.
“I think you might be a liar, Pickles.” Andrew flicked my earlobe with his tongue. “I think you might not be as healed as you want me to believe.”
No, no, no, no. “I’m fine.”
I didn’t want him to stop again. I wanted to keep going the way we were going.
Andrew’s hand eased up my side, his thumb coming to trace along the underside of my breast. “I think you’re trying to rush something that shouldn’t be rushed.”
“Sometimes it can be rushed.” I wiggled against him. “Like during a lunch hour.”
I was hoping the reminder that we were on a schedule would help him see things my way.
Bring him over to the dark side where everyone got cookies.
Andrew leaned up, his eyes dark as they pierced down into mine. “I’m not fucking you for the first time during a lunch hour.” He shook his head. “So you can get that idea out of your mind right now.”
My disappointment was buffered by the possibility that he might be willing to do it the second time.
“And I’m not fucking you until all of you is ready for it.” His fingers traced a line across the center of my breasts, the barely-there touch slowly sliding across one still-tender nipple.
Then the other.
“All of meisready.”
Andrew leaned into my ear, his fingers sliding back across my nipples as his warm breath heated my skin. “I’m not fucking you until I can suck every inch of your body the way I want to.”
I choked on a gulp and started to cough.
“What’s wrong, Pickles?” His voice was low and deep.
And carried a hint of amusement.
The man knew exactly what was wrong.
And he liked it.
“But,” his hand traced down the center of my stomach before following the line of the waistband on the shorts he’d given me this morning, “there are plenty of other options available to you.”
“Plenty?” It squeaked out as his fingers dipped into my pants.
“Plenty.” He didn’t elaborate, which was probably a good thing, because I might have exploded hearing him list all the things he was capable of accomplishing in an hour.
Instead, Andrew flipped the button on the pants free and pushed deeper, working under the elastic of my panties. “Do you want to explore your options, Pickles?”
“Yes.” I didn’t bother pretending like I had to think about it. I wanted whatever he was willing to give me.
And then some.
His fingers slid against me, dragging over my clit, rolling my eyes back as a moan slipped free.
