Page 69 of Light Up The Night
He tugs my neckline down, exposing my bra cups fully. He guides my arm out of the sleeve, and then the other, and lowers the neckline again so it stretches around my sternum…and then again so it is around my belly. My heart batters against my ribcage as the night air bathes my skin, and I am hyperaware of his eyes on my chest.
"Okay with this?" he mutters, his eyes searching my face.
I can only nod.
"Nervous?"
I nod again.
He smiles at me. Lowers his mouth to mine and kisses me—this one is gentle and soft and sweet rather than hungry. "I can't get enough of kissing you."
"Nor I," I whisper.
I watch his eyes tug away from mine and slip lower, and now he's gazing at my breasts. My nipples are so hard they hurt, and my breasts feel engorged and strangely heavy. My breath lodges in my throat when he passes his hand over my shoulder, brushing my bra strap aside; without that support, my breast sags to one side; he repeats the action on the other side.
I am struggling to breathe now, panting and searching his face, watching his eyes linger on my chest. The difficulty in catching my breath only worsens when he moves his mouth from mine to my breastbone again, and then kisses lower and lower…his lips skim my skin between my breasts, and now he is hungrily, almost desperately kissing my décolletage.
With each kiss, my nipples harden more and more until I am panting with…I know not what this feeling is.
Need. Desperation. Hunger.
A yawning, aching, empty, hollowness within me…and the heat and pressure behind my sex pulses and thrums, and I become acutely aware of my clitoris, for some reason; whatever medical, anatomical knowledge regarding the mechanics of sex and female arousal I possess have been scattered out of my awareness entirely.
There is no reason, no knowledge in me, now, only sensation.
Kissing as much of the exposed flesh of my breasts as he can, Riley slips a hand under my back between me and the truck bed—seeking the closure of my bra, I realize.
"Wait," I gasp.
He immediately yanks his hand out and stops kissing me. "What, babe?" He breathes, his gaze concerned. "Too fast?"
"N-no," I whisper, blushing furiously and unable to look even in the direction of his face. "I—it…" I grasp his hand and guide it to my chest. "My b-bra…" I stammer, mortified yet excited, "it is a f-f-front c-clasp."
His grin is…devilish. Heated. "Oh."
He touches my chin, lifts my face. "Can you look at me, sweetheart? Just for a second. Please."
I force my eyes to his, squirming at the acute discomfort of direct eye contact—especially when I see such blatant arousal on his face.
Arousal caused by me.
Perhaps he will appreciate my nude form, after all. That would be rather nice.
"So, what you're saying is," he murmurs, focused intently on my eyes and nowhere else, "you want me to do…this.”
He grips both bra cups in one hand, pulls them together, and somehow manages to undo the clasp one-handed. His eyes stay on my face—I am blushing furiously, my cheeks flaming hot. My heart crashes wildly.
All he must do now is let go and my breasts will be bared for his gaze. He is waiting. Watching me. I cannot breathe—no longer panting, my lungs ache from holding my breath in anticipation.
"Yes or no, honey?" he whispers, his eyes on mine.
"I…" I pause, searching myself—the answer isyes, but the word will not leave my lips. Instead, I hear myself blurt the thought that has been top of mind since he began kissing his way down. "My nipples are very hard and very sensitive. I…I am—"
He grins. "Means you're turned on, babe." He lets the tension out a little. "Tell me what you want, Cadence. Yes or no?"
Turned on. Sexually aroused.
Yes.
