“Turn. The. Fuck. Around.” His hands clench in frustration.
Delicious shivers dance over my skin like tiny bolts of lightning. Yes. That’s the real Graham. Big. Tough. Demanding. A man telling me what to do sends shivers over me—as long as I know he won’t hurt me.
I turn slowly, our eyes holding. “Look.”
He does, his gaze tracing a path of fire from my lips to my breasts. He lingers there for several seconds, then skates down to the curve of my hips and the wisp of white lace covering my pelvis. Awe and longing flicker over his face, and he rubs his lips with his hand, as if imagining it’s my skin.
“Is anything else pierced?”
“Sorry, not brave enough for a genital one. This one hurt.”
“Was it worth it? Does it make you . . .” He blinks, his words trailing off.
“Oh yes. One lick or tug and everything is sensitized. It goes straight to my clit.”
He groans, the tent in his pants bulging out.
“I was twenty-five when I got it. Gran was sick, and I was taking care of Jane and Andrew. I needed something that was mine, like reclaiming myself. It’s a symbol of sorts. I wasn’t seeing anyone romantically because of everything I had to do, but I had this, and it made me feel feminine and sexy. It felt empowering, like I was saying, ‘Hey, I don’t need anyone to make me feel bold or beautiful—I just need myself.’”
I glance out the window and up to the sky, where the moon sends light shimmering into the room. “I got the half moons because they mean the changing of life, the coming and going like the tides. And I feel like the moon is a she. For me anyway. She might mean something altogether different to someone else. She changes every night, evolving and becoming something new. How fucking awesome to be her.” I laugh softly as he comes closer, so close that I can feel the heat of him. “I’m not sure you’re listening.”
“Trust me, I’m soaking it all in, Emmy. Answer me this: Have you had too much champagne?”
“No, and I love that your voice sounds like it’s been dragged over concrete.”
“May I touch you?” he asks with his hand raised halfway.
I nod, but instead of his hand touching me, he bends over, and his tongue darts out and strokes my pierced nipple. He flicks the metal, exploring the hard titanium, his mouth searching my peak to taste every ridge and contour.
Tremors take my legs, and I gasp as he sucks it into his mouth, the metal clinking against his teeth. He tugs. Gently but precisely. Skilled yet careful.
He is hot. And he’s built so broad and big, and I can’t resist, and maybe getting undressed in front of him wasn’t my smartest idea, but Jesus, his lips and tongue are maddening. My hands go to his scalp and bring him closer.
His other hand twirls my other nipple between his fingers, as if he knows the desperation I feel for his touch. His fingers roughen, and I groan as wonderful, sweet heat blooms in my pussy, and I bite my lip to keep from gyrating on his leg.
He pulls back, leaving me gasping, as his big hands cup my face, and he stares at me with the intensity of a laser as if reaching inside me to draw out all my secrets. His silky shirt rubs against my skin, and I swivel to get more friction. He licks his lips. “Emmy . . .”
“What?” I tug him up to look at me in the eyes. If I’m being honest, this here, this man lusting for me, is what I’ve wanted ever since the moment he got down on his knees for me. Maybe before then.
“I can’t get serious.”
“Why?”
He traces my eyebrow with his finger, his voice strained. “Because I need to focus on football. And a million other reasons.”
It’s what I expected to hear. “Are you going to kiss me or what?”
“Or what,” he growls as he lowers his head to mine and takes my lips hard, his hand going to my ass to press my entire body against his.
He says my name on a groan as he kisses my neck, down to my clavicle and to my piercing. Deft fingers tease the waistband of my panties until finally he slides underneath and cups my ass.
“Darling,” he murmurs as he eases down the wisps of lace.
I feel exposed and vulnerable in the best way. The air feels heavy and thick with desire as he gazes at my body with reverence. He kneels in front of me, then locks his eyes with mine. I’m gasping, waiting for his touch. Chills dance over my skin, anticipation rising.
His lips land on my navel, tasting the gold ring I have there, then slides to my hipbone. “You smell so fucking good.”
I’m reeling in sensation when one finger enters me slowly, teasingly, barely there.