Page 22 of Savage in the Sheets
My arms relax from their crossed position. I lean in as he pulls my hair gently back, forcing me to comply.
“Oh?” I pout.
“What did I tell you?” he says roughly.
My neck is stretched, and he takes the opportunity to kiss my throat, causing butterflies to take flight in my stomach.
“Now, are you going to let me kiss you?”
Yes, please!my mind screams, but all I can do is nod.
He brings his mouth back to mine, and I feel his tongue lightly brush against my lips. Slow, sweet, and cruelly agonizing. His tongue breaches my mouth, sweeping against mine. I’m so into the sensations that I feel his strokes everywhere. All over my body.
When my tongue extends to meet his, he pulls back slightly.
“Stop being so overeager,” he commands.
My speech returns, and I say, “I thought men liked forward women?”
“We do, but I’m trying to shake your Rosie programming. You need to learn to let things happen to you.”
He cups my jaw, bringing my mouth to his, this time his tongue aggressively stroking mine. I close my eyes, clinging to the torrent of sensations assaulting me.
He tucks a strand of unruly hair behind my ear, then brushes his hand down my throat, creating a pleasant tingle.
I struggle to breathe as he all but consumes me, my heart beating like a drum. At this point, I’m so wet I wish I had worn a pantyliner.
His fingers brush lightly over the tops of my breasts, where my dress sits.
“I like how reactive you are,” he says with a chuckle, his hands feeling through the fabric.
As I try to regain control, Weston pulls back, looking me in the eyes. “Let things happen. Let me happen.”
I inhale deeply and nod.
This time, he doesn’t return to my mouth. His lips merely graze mine before traveling down my jaw, down my throat, to my collarbone as his hand travels lightly over the bust of my dress.
Why, oh, why did I suggest petting over the clothes?I bemoan, willing his hand on my bare flesh.
Weston is good to his word, though, keeping the thin layer of fabric between his hand and my breasts.
His thumb rubs against my nipple, sending a wave of pleasure coursing through me.
“Weston,” I whimper.
“Yes, Jenna?”
“I want you.”
His head lifts, his lips pressing against mine, kissing me sweetly. “Not today.”
My dress feels about two sizes too small as my chest heaves, his hands greedy and eager, flicking my sensitive nubs until I can barely breathe.
“Do you want to touch me?” he asks.
“Yes,” I gasp.
His hand takes mine and places it on his muscular chest, and I feel his heart beating just as rapidly as my own.
