“You look hot in everything you wear. You didn’t need this.” Wes’s lips grazed my neck. “Do you know how much torture it was to hear you say you wanted to look good naked when I was positive you already did?” He helped me pull the shaper over my boobs, where it got stuck for a moment, leaving my arms raised over my head, the shaper clinging to them.
From inside my cocoon of spandex, I worried I might have to cut the thing off and wondered whether it was too early to suggest bringing scissors into the bedroom.
“It’s stuck.”
“Let me just . . .” We pulled and twisted, and I was laughing again when it slid over my head, probably leaving my hair a wild mess.
“Sorry,” I said, tossing the traitorous thing to the floor.
“Don’t apologize for less clothing.” He met my smile, his hands traversing my bare belly, my back, down my spine to massage my backside, and then up. “You always make me laugh, Britta.” He kissed me again, lips exploring as he cupped my breasts, kneading while his kiss kept me planted in place, his thumbs rubbing over my nipples with just the right balance of speed and pressure, mixing it up just enough to keep me anticipating his next stroke.
“That’s not my goal when I’m in my underwear, Wes.” I unbuckled his belt, and he let me take over, pushing his pants over his muscled thighs to reveal black boxer briefs, the fabric bulging and misshapen.
He followed my movements, gaze flicking between my hand and my chest. “I fell in love with you when you made me laugh,” he murmured.
I froze and my eyes flashed to his, the light from the city below giving the room a soft glow. “What?”
“You heard me.” He held my gaze, his eyebrows lifting slightly before he pushed his briefs down, his thick erection springing free.
“Did I?” A hundred dirty thoughts flashed in my head because Oh. My. God.
He climbed on the bed, pulling me down to the mattress with him. Wes smelled like soap and Scotch, and I inhaled the oddly satisfying combination while sliding my fingers through the smattering of chest hair and tracing the hard muscle of his abdomen. His words still hung in the air, and his lips met my neck again, while he reached behind me to unsnap my bra. Tossing the material aside, he held my breasts reverently, rolling my nipples between his thumb and forefinger. “You’re quiet,” he said against my skin, before trailing his lips down, dotting tiny kisses in circles around my nipples before taking one into his mouth. His tongue paused, and he let his mouth hover over my sensitive, peaked flesh. “Is this okay?”
A whimper escaped my lips as I nodded. I expected it to feel weird being naked with him, to have him see me—all of me—but it felt like the most natural thing in the world. “You said . . .” I trailed off, lost in the pleasure of his tongue.
He took my other nipple in his mouth, his free hand sliding over my belly and easing my thighs apart.
My head fell back with the wave of sensations from his tongue and fingers, the anticipation as he stroked the insides of my thighs and then the wet fabric between my legs. “Do you want my fingers here?”
When I nodded, he dragged his knuckle back and forth, creating the most delicious friction. I’d dreamed and fantasized about how that friction would feel, but my imagination didn’t do him justice.
His tongue whorled around my nipple again, and he slid his fingers inside my panties to stroke my wet folds before pulling the fabric down my thighs. My nipple came away from his lips with a pop, and he took the other into his mouth. I bucked against his hand, shameless. I cried out, squirming, wanting more, wanting everything. I ran my hand roughly through his hair. “You said you . . .”
His fingers were long, but his strokes were gentle. I was aware of every moment and lost in his heat at the same time. Wes’s thumb circled my clit before one long finger dipped back into me with aching restraint, again and again.
All thought left me. This is how I go out. I’m dying. I’m dead.
Pops of color flashed, and sensations overtook me—he pressed against my walls, his thumb teasing, his mouth on me. I was so ready. My body rose, and heat gathered low in my belly. Still, his words circled me.
“You said,” I panted again, meeting his eyes.
“I said,” he repeated, sliding a second finger inside me, stretching me and pressing against the tight bundle of nerves. His expression was hooded, the intensity in his eyes flashing when my body reacted to the new sensation. “I fell in love with you.”
I cried out, so close to exploding under his touches. I met his fingers with my hips, seeking more, wanting just a little more to push me over the edge.