Not when I want to do so much—
Bailey’s head turns and her lips dust across the hollow at the base of my throat. I swallow, Adam’s apple working as she kisses just below it again. Puffy lips press against my chest.
Awareness trickles in as her nipples harden and point against my chest.
I should stop.
My hand slides down her firm back, toned from long hours spent working, and my fingers dust over the thick elastic waistband that they meet.
I should stop.
She kisses me again. Same spot. But her tongue darts against my skin this time. Her back arches, pushing her tits down and her ass up.
“Fuck,” the word is a breath, a hushed curse marking me, knowing I’m about to go too far.
I should stop.
My hand travels further, and I grip her ass. It’s more than just fabric. The shorts have shifted, and it’s smooth skin. My fingers dig in, the tips of them dangerously close to where no man has gone before.
It’s her fucking moan as she presses herself back into my grip that nearly undoes me.
“Bailey.” I’m too keyed up. She’s too close. Feels too good. Smells too delicious.
She inches down, strands of her hair slipping through my fingers as she kisses lower on my chest. My hand is still kneading the flesh of her ass when she whispers, “Are you okay?”
“No,” I grit out. My dick swells at the nearness of her, the smell, the weight. The way she’s just here in the wake of me totally freaking out.
“Me neither.” Her hot breath fans against my chest.
I realize I’m holding her in place, one hand gripping her ass, the other with a fist full of her hair. My cock goes rock-hard faster than I can fight it off. The thought of filling her with it is more present than ever.
“Tell me how to make you feel okay,” I say, my voice rumbling across the top of her head. She hasn’t lifted her face, hasn’t chanced looking me in the eye.
I think we both might think more clearly if she did.
“Don’t stop touching me.”
My head tips back and I groan. The things this girl says.
Her lips move over my chest again. “How can I make you feel okay?” Her ass lifts higher, knees pushing into the bed on either side of my body. Begging me to explore her.
While I turn her question over in my mind, I let my hands roam along the smooth skin down the back of her thigh to the crook of her knee that she’s pushed up onto while straddling me. My nails rake over the skin of her inner thigh, tiny bumps crop up in their wake.
“Bailey … I should stop.” I say it out loud, the warning sign that’s been flashing in my head for the past several minutes.
Stopping feels like it would be pure torture right now, but I’d do it.
I should do it.
“No. Please.” The words rush from her, breathy and desperate. “Please don’t stop.”
My breathing grows labored, and all I’m doing is lying on my back. I trail my fingers over the gusset of her shorts, tracing the seam. I could reach beneath the fabric so easily.
Her head turns, cheek pressing against my chest. Face down. Ass up. Hands on my shoulders. Bailey begs me again. “Please … tell me how to make you feel better. But don’t stop.”
My fingers curl around the strands of her onyx hair, and I give a firm tug.
She whimpers and grinds herself against my fingers.
I don’t know how we got so far past the line of appropriate, so far past the line of faking. But the 2:11 version of me lacks control, and he’s the only version of me that’s here right now.
“I’d feel okay if you started sleeping in the guest room, Bailey.”
She nods, dragging my fist along with her head as she does. My dick juts up, bumping against her stomach.
“And I’d feel even better if you let me reach into these flimsy fucking shorts and make you come on my fingers.”
A breath rushes from her lips and sweeps across my chest.
I should stop.
“Yes,” she replies breathlessly. Her stomach presses into my length while my fingers curl around the curve of her ass, teasing that line between her thigh and her pussy. “Yes.”
“Fuck,” I mutter again, because no matter how many times I tell myself I should stop, I won’t.
My hand inches forward until I feel her wetness. I swipe through gently, my body almost shaking under the strain of holding back. The dark part of me wants to flip her over and fuck her. Impale her and listen to her scream my name.
But that’s not what this is. That’s not who she is. I want to handle Bailey with care.