Page 72 of Agency
With Morgan, though? With Morgan, I could already feel the flood gates opening and my stomach beginning to fill with fluttering butterfly wings.
The mattress groaned under his weight, and then his muscular, secure presence was crawling onto the bed behind me. He slid an arm beneath my body as he draped the other over my side.
“You’re not going to tie me up with my own belt again, are you?”
“I’m good,” I whispered back. “But nowhere near that good.”
“Like this?” he asked, his breath like a warm summer’s breeze wafting over my neck and ear. My heart began to speed up as the faint smell of him settled on me, and I thought back to our first night together. How I’d made him beg, even though my own body was begging plenty on its own.
God, he felt so good, so perfect.
“Yes, like that,” I whispered in reply, this time not even having to force myself to add a little moaning hitch to my words.
Morgan was doing his best to keep this as clinical and detached as possible, and hadn’t even moved himself close enough that his chest was touching me. Still, his rough hand had lifted my shirt and begun to slide over my exposed midriff. Then it began slowly grazing back and forth, back and forth, back and forth against the waistband of my panties.
“But a little bit closer?” I breathed.
“Ambyr, I don’t—”
I slid back against him, and the warmth of his body inundated my skin and sent a paradoxical shiver through my body.
He didn’t pull back.
“Much better,” I groaned.
“How’s this?” he asked, fingers slipping beneath my waistband as he rasped in my ear.
“That’s nice,” I whispered, having to bite back my half-moan as his fingertips first slid into my trimmed thatch of ginger hair. “Very nice.” And then, seconds later, I was again having to bite back a moan as he found my clit.
“You’re so wet already,” he said.
“Mmhmm,” I whispered, not daring to open my lips enough to speak as he slid a hand over the rest of my sex, took all of me in.
“So wet and ready.”
Wiggling my hips a little and spreading my legs for him, I sucked in a sharp, panting breath as two of his fingers began to trace up and down my lips. “My neck,” I half-whispered, half-moaned. “Please, Morgan. Can you kiss it a little bit?”
He needed no more cajoling. Fingers still teasing and circling, his head bent down to me. His breath against my skin intensified as he sniffed deeply of my shoulders and collar bone, then, his full lips were on me and there was a flash of searingly hot tongue.
“You really are enjoying this, aren’t you?” he whispered between kisses, his fingers only leaving my clit to gather more wetness from the rest of me. Then, his teeth. God, those teeth! Biting, nibbling, practically caressing.
“My breasts,” I whispered. “Please, hold me closer.”
He did as I asked, and my whole body jerked with pleasure as both his fingers lightly brushed my clit, and I bit back another moan as his big, callused hand palmed one of my breasts. My ass pushed back into him, began wiggling and grinding before I knew what I was doing.
And there–hard, throbbing, and absolutely begging for release–was what I needed. Concealed within those obstructive twill pants, was what I craved.
And not only for my escape plan to work, oh no. No, I needed him now.
Right now.
The only problem? I was close! Already so, so close! At the rate he was going, there was no way I was going to hold off long enough to make sure he was too revved up to resist me.
Then, he slid a finger into me, and his thumb began swirling around my clit.
My back arched, and a guttural moan escaped my lips, even as I pushed back into his hard cock and began to grind. “Morgan! Yes, right there!”
I must have been too loud for him, because the next thing I felt was the hand that had been on my breast, now clamping down over my mouth.
