How to Ruin a Wedding(80)
My eyes drift shut. I bite my lip so hard I taste my own blood, but it’s nothing, nothing compared to Anders devouring me.
He pauses. “Look at me.”
Even his voice adds to the growing heat flooding me. I lean my head down, my fingers reaching to dig into his hair. His gaze is piercing, intent, as he grips my thighs and spreads them farther before feasting at my center again.
The pleasure skyrockets through me, my legs overwhelmed by all the sensations, and I try instinctively to shut them, to bury him farther into me, trap him between my thighs. He keeps a tight grip as he devours me, and small, needy whimpers begin to rip through me like a desperate chant.
The possession continues until they become loud, desperate pleas of Anders’s name.
The explosion comes so suddenly and quickly, my heart stalls as I moan out his name—scream it when he doesn’t let up, when he digs himself deeper into my thighs, and I grind on his face, finish on his tongue.
My heart pounds in my chest, in my ears.
Anders pulls away, slowly getting up from his knees so he can reach my mouth. His fingers sweep the side of my face. “Taste how sweet you are, Lucinda.”
I open my mouth, and he slips his tongue inside. My eyes roll to the back of my head as he kisses me, my body molten hot, my skin tingling in ways it’s never before. As desperate as the rest of me, my fingers graze his shirt, pull and pull till he gets the cue and lifts it off.
The shadows of his abs are thicker in the dark, and I want to lick every crevice of them, of him. I want my mouth on every possible part of him until I have explored the entirety of the map that is Anders.
I grab my dress that’s crumpled around my waist and pull it off, exposing my bare breasts.
Anders reaches over, pressing a hot kiss to me before pulling away and moving toward the nightstand. He turns on the lamp and returns to me.
“Good,” he says, tensing as his gaze snags on my breasts. “I want to be able to see you while I’m inside you.”
In answer, I yank the string of my thong so hard it rips, the scraps falling uselessly to the floor. My legs spread as wide as they can. Anders wants a full view of me, and I could not deny him anything he could possibly want, ever.
Not like this, now, when his gaze is trained on me like I’m all he has desired, that this is what he’s worked for his whole life. To take me, in every way he can.
“I’ve thought of you like this,” I say, my hand sliding down my chest. “So many times, right next door, stopping myself from coming into this room and filling myself with you.”
He sucks in a breath before unbuttoning his pants, and my gaze is trapped on the movement. His long, hard, artist’s hands remove his pants, his underwear, and I watch with rapt attention as his hardened cock pulses before me.
“Did you touch yourself when you thought of me?” he asks, squeezing his length.
My gaze goes hazy as I watch his fingers close in around himself. I nod as I follow the movement, see the veins all along his length.
“Show me,” he says, “how you touched yourself.”
My fingers move across my chest, until I cup my breast, squeeze it in my palm, then reach down to my center. It’s soaked from Anders already, and my fingers slip trying to find my most tender area to press down.
My mouth pops open at the pressure, the spot already too sensitive from what’s been done to it. I squirm against my fingers, pinching my nipple.
Like he can no longer handle being a spectator, Anders yanks me to the center of the bed, his knee spreading my thighs open, before his body presses against mine, his mouth enveloping my breast.
His teeth take a small bite of my nipple, and I let out a whimper. Anders answers with a slight rumble of a growl, a pulse of hardness where his length pushes against my thighs. His mouth presses hot kisses from my breast all along my collarbones.
When he reaches the space below my ears and I gasp, he spends extra time there, his tongue tracing small circles before he sucks the skin there, his hand reaching down my stomach until his fingers rub into my center and I buck into him.
“It feels so good,” I manage to get out between whispers.
The praise makes him work harder. His mouth moves to the other side of my neck, giving it equal attention as I grind onto his fingers, faster and faster, wetter and wetter.
“You’re so goddamn beautiful,” Anders says, fingering me, his face hovering over me. “I want to watch you come over and over again.”
Another needy whimper escapes me as the heat builds and builds. I writhe against his hand, my heart hammering against my rib cage. It’s more pleasure than a human should feel; it’s torturous and overwhelming, and I need more of it, endlessly.
“Anders,” I plead. “I need you inside me. Now.”
“Anything you want, beautiful.”
I watch as he positions himself. He grabs his cock, then guides it between my folds, moving it up and down, drenching himself in me.
“I’m so wet,” I say, my words no longer able to reach a decibel above gasps. “I’ve never been this wet before.”
He grits his teeth as I arch myself up, letting myself feel every inch of his length.
“I’ll do this for you, always,” he says, the tip of him finally, finally pressing inside me. He takes it slow, maybe to not hurt me with his size, maybe to slow down what we’ve built up for so long.