Page 55 of Love and Lingerie (Rockland Falls 2)

He moves a hand without breaking the connection of our mouths and raises my shirt once more. His hand is hot against my flesh as he pushes it all up and exposes my soaked bra. Thank God I wore one of my favorite red lace bra and panty sets today, not that it matters. I’m pretty sure anything I wear would look the same thrown on the floor.

His mouth rips from mine, and I suck in huge lungsful of sweet oxygen. That is until his hot mouth dips down and grazes across my breasts. My nipples are hard, pebbled against the coarse material, and begging for his mouth. He reads my mind and with one hand, pulls down one of the cups of my bra. With his dark eyes locked on mine, his tongue slips out and swipes across the ring in my nipple at the exact same time he rubs his cock against my center.

“Latham,” I gasp, my eyes rolling back in my head at the onslaught of sensation.

“Tell me to stop, Harper. Tell me and I will,” he whispers, his voice low and gravelly.

I don’t even have to consider it. I know what I want. “Don’t stop. Please,” I beg.

His eyes turn black as realization sets in. He pauses, holding my gaze for confirmation. Instead of giving him words, I fuse my lips to his, thrusting my tongue into his mouth and tasting him once more. He’s a hit to my system, a shot of alcohol on an empty stomach. He affects me in a way no other man ever has.

My back is pressed against the wall, my legs wrapped around his waist, when he pulls my shirt the rest of the way over my head, the wet material slapping against the floor. The moment it’s gone, his lips are back on mine, devouring me and leaving me completely breathless. There’s something so magical about his kisses that has always made me feel wanted – and not because of my face or my body – because of me. Even when he was horrible to me back in school, when we pushed aside all the torture and teasing, I felt like I was the only one he saw.

Especially that night.

That one amazing night.

Latham places his large hand on my breast, cupping it and toying with the metal ring. My body zings with desire, with passion, as I close my eyes and let all those sensations wash over me. “I’m going to set you down and take off your wet pants. If you don’t want me to, say the word.” His voice is deep and gruff, just the way I remember it.

My eyes meet his. “Hurry up, Latham.” My words hold a bite, a demand.

Things happen quickly after that. He sets me on the floor and before I can shimmy out of my wet work pants, he has his hands on the closure, unbuttoning them and sliding them down my legs. My sandals are gone too, and suddenly, I’m standing in nothing but my red lace panty set. “Fucking hell,” he groans, his eyes feasting on my body. “Do you always wear this beneath your clothes?” he asks, standing completely still and devouring me with his eyes.

“Who else is going to ensure the product I sell is comfortable, sexy, and worth the cost?”

“So fucking sexy,” he whispers, wrapping his hand around my hip and bringing me flush against his body. “For the rest of my life, every time I see you, I’ll be imagining what sexy little surprise you’re wearing beneath your clothes.”

His hand slides around to my backside, cupping my bare ass cheek. I can feel his erection sandwiched between us, feel every jolt of electricity that zips through my body as my nipples drag against the lace bra. My entire body is on fire, and if I don’t feel him inside me soon, I think I might explode. “Latham?”

“Yeah?” he whispers.

“Lose the towel.”

His eyes burn bright as he reaches down and drops the towel. His erection – then, impressive for an eighteen-year-old boy, is nothing compared to the man he grew to be. Thirty-two-year-old Latham is all man, from his rock-hard, chiseled body, to his thick, long cock. He’s the one fantasies are made from, and right now, he’s a walking dream come true.

Without removing my eyes from his cock, I shimmy out of my panties – they’re soaked and useless anyway. He reaches around and unclasps my bra, leaving us both completely naked. We both stare, drinking in the sight of the other’s body, as if committing it to memory. I have a perfect recollection of that one night so many years ago, but it pales in comparison to how I feel right now.

His mouth descends on mine once more, hot and hungry and full of need. I’m backed against the wall, his arms wrapping around me and pulling me against him. He lifts at the same time I jump, my legs finding a comfortable place around his trim hips. It also lines his cock up perfectly for where I ache. My body hums with anticipation as he slides against me, coating himself in my wetness.

Then he moves, his dick lining up and pushing inside. My body stretches to accommodate him, almost to the point of pain, reminding me it has been a while. Well, that and the fact Latham is much bigger than my last three boyfriends.

When he’s fully seated, we both still and exhale a long, deep breath. Then, as if something lights the fuse, we move. He pulls back, his hands gripping my ass, and slams forward, sending my body into hypersensitive overdrive. I feel everything: his hands, his cock, his breathing. And now, I feel his lips, as he finally leans forward and kisses me. It’s a hard, determined kiss, full of pent-up desire and maybe even a little frustration. We’re like oil and gasoline, never mixing well, but dangerously explosive when they finally meet.

He continues to press me firmly into the wall, while his masterful cock brings me closer and closer to release with each thrust of his hips. I can feel my body climbing higher as an orgasm barrels down on me. Using the wall as leverage, Latham reaches around and cups my breast. When I’m least expecting it, he pushes upward and pinches my nipple ring. The double sensation has me calling out, I’m not even sure what. My brain sort of liquefies with each thrust of his hips, each tug of my ring. It’s too much, yet not enough at the same time.

When he stills completely, I realize my eyes are closed. They open to find his piercing me, searching my face as if memorizing this look, this moment. My heart does something in my chest I don’t like. Him. I don’t like him. Yes, I’m currently having sex with him, but that’s because he’s hot. Other than that, he’s infuriating and impossible. He rigs my laptop to play stupid country music on repeat, and then has the audacity to show up in a towel when I confront him.

Okay, fine, maybe I’m the one who showed up – unannounced – but whatever… I forgot where I was going with this.

“This won’t happen again,” I tell him, holding his gaze and giving him my best I-mean-business look.

He smirks and swirls his hips, making my eyes almost roll back in my head. “Oh, Sweetheart, this most certainly will happen again.”

“So cocky,” I grumble, moving my own hips in search of a little friction. When he’s holding me against the wall, my legs wrapped around him, there’s not much I can do to initiate continuing our sex-capades.

“You want my what?”

“Shut up,” I gasp when he pushes so far inside me I feel his hipbones jab my thighs.

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