He kisses my jaw, my neck, my chest. My breasts again, too, roughly and greedily. I arch my back and close my eyes, loving how his beard feels against my skin. How hard he’s breathing. How he’s not treating me like I’m a fragile, breakable thing, but as if he thinks I’m strong enough to handle whatever he wants to give me.
And I want him to give me everything.
Like right fucking now.
Squirming underneath him, I say breathlessly, “Take off my jeans. Hurry.”
He lifts his head and gazes at me with hot eyes. “What’s the rush?”
“You just told me I’m the boss. So I’m telling you to hurry.”
Holding my gaze, he lowers his head and traces his tongue round and round my aching nipple. Which I take to mean that him saying I’m the boss was only a figure of speech.
He moves to the other nipple and does the same thing. Braced on his elbows, he lies on top of me between my spread thighs and goes back and forth between my breasts, sucking and licking, until I’m whimpering and begging him not to tease me.
“I’m not teasing you, baby,” he says in a throaty voice. “I’m giving you what you need.”
I’d pass out, but I don’t want to miss anything.
He kisses and licks his way down my stomach to the waistband of my jeans, then slides the tip of his tongue underneath it. When I shudder, groaning, he chuckles.
Then he rips open the button, pulls down the zipper, shoves his face in the opening, and inhales.
He makes a noise deep in his throat. A primal, masculine sound of desire that sends a shiver straight through me. With another fast movement, he yanks my jeans down my hips, exposing me.
He buries his face between my legs and starts licking.
Moaning helplessly, I plunge my hands into his hair and time the movement of my hips to the strokes of his tongue. I can’t open my thighs wider because they’re now restricted by the waistband of my jeans, but it doesn’t matter. Aidan knows exactly what he’s doing. He slides his hands under my ass and lifts my hips, gripping my ass cheeks and French kissing my pussy as I writhe and moan in desperation.
Shuddering, I gasp his name.
“Come on,” he whispers hotly, flicking his tongue back and forth over my throbbing clit. “Let go, baby.”
I’ve never had a man call me that before. Michael didn’t use nicknames, and the boyfriends I had before him didn’t either. I don’t know why I find it so insanely sexy, but I do. I don’t want him to call me Kayla ever again.
He stops licking to suckle on my clit like he’s drawing milk from a nipple. I orgasm in his mouth, mindlessly crying out his name.
He continues sucking until I beg him to stop because it’s too sensitive. Then he stands up, pulls my jeans the rest of the way down my legs, pops open the buttons on his fly, and tears his own jeans off.
I get a split-second view of thigh tattoos and an erection surrounded by dark pubic hair before Aidan is on top of me again, kissing me passionately as he slides the head of his cock up and down between my pussy lips to get it lubricated.
He shoves it inside me with one sudden, forceful thrust.
As I cry out, he growls into my ear, “Tell me if I need to pull out or I’m gonna come inside you.”
Without waiting for an answer, he starts to fuck me deep and hard.
And I love it. God help me, but I do. He said he was going to make love to me, but this is far more animalistic than that. It’s rough and rowdy, and I have to fight back the laugh of euphoria that wants to break from my chest.
When he takes my mouth again, I taste myself on him. Some dim part of my brain recognizes that all the lights are on, and I should probably be feeling at least a little self-conscious, but there’s no room for that. With every powerful thrust of his hips, he’s taking me out of my head and deeper into my body, making me feel everything.
My hard nipples dragging against his chest.
His fingers pulling my hair.
Our teeth clashing as we kiss deeply.
The noises we’re both making and the sounds of our bodies joining. I think I can even hear his heart pounding as madly as mine.
Then he startles me by rolling to his back and taking me with him. Panting, I stare down at him in a haze of pleasure. I flatten my hands over his broad chest.
He licks his lips and runs his hands up and down my body, pausing to squeeze my breasts, then follows the shape of my ribcage and waist down to my hips. He digs his fingers into the flesh there and flexes his pelvis upward, driving himself deeper inside me.
“Move,” he orders through clenched teeth.