“Thank you, God, for Josephine’s inappropriate movie selection.” Her laugh turned into a whimper when he suctioned his mouth to the side of her neck, yanking the robe open wider, his fingertips dragging slowly up the sides of her rib cage. “You need me to be nice? I’ll be the nicest person you ever met. Just to you. Only you. Jesus Christ, you’re so beautiful.”
That’s how she felt. Totally and authentically.
Lusted after. Safe. Free to abandon any and all constraints.
Needy and daring all at once, she spread her legs into a V, draping them over Wells’s hard thighs, encouraged by the groan that gathered in his chest.
“Fuck yes, belle. Is that an invitation to pet it?”
She let her head fall back against his shoulder and nodded. Ready to feel. Dying for it.
Not that he gave it to her right away. Wells took his sweet time, turning his head and licking into her mouth, luxuriating in every kiss. His palms scraped up and over her breasts, cupping them gently at first, the massage growing rougher and more adept with every slow, reverent squeeze of his hands.
“Were you rubbing yourself out when I interrupted? Were you on your tiptoes bent over the bathroom counter so you could look at my picture, fingers all slippery on your clit?”
“Yes,” she admitted on a gasp.
His chest rumbled appreciatively. “Bet it’s still wet, isn’t it, belle?” He paused mid-kiss. They breathed hard into one another’s mouth. “Go make sure.”
Josephine’s head swam, heat torching her body.
She couldn’t stay still on Wells’s lap and he really didn’t seem to mind, grunting every time she moved her backside on top of his erection. She tilted her head in invitation and moaned as he took her permission, bathing her pulse with his tongue. She trailed her fingers down her stomach, delving the middle and index ones into the valley of slippery flesh, sucking in a breath when she encountered her swollen clit, no choice but to rub it. Rub it fast and tight.
“Wet,” he said.
“Yes.”
“Show me.”
That directive might have been confusing if their bodies weren’t speaking some kind of undiscovered language. Or maybe they were inventing a new one, unique to the two of them, because Josephine lifted up her fingers, seeing them glisten from beneath heavy lids, her eyes rolling back into her head when he bit her shoulder—hard—in response.
Approval.
She was given only a second to enjoy the perfect sting of pain before the robe was ripped away completely and she was thrown down, face up on the couch. Naked. Completely, blissfully naked while Wells was still fully dressed. So hot. So hot. Why was that so hot?
“You like being filthy with me?” he growled, before stripping off his hoodie, leaving him bare chested in sweatpants. This was not the man everyone saw on the golf course. Sure, he was still his hardy, rough-around-the-edges self, but he was dialed up to ten. His muscles were inked with WHITAKER across his collarbone, an all-seeing eye between his pecs, a snake slithering low on his right hip. His chest and abdomen strained with an almost furious energy. In short, Wells was magnetic. Harsh. Sleek. Beautiful.
He stroked the enormous ridge trapped inside his sweatpants, all while licking his lips and leaning down to drag his mouth side to side over the mound of her sex. Razing her inner thighs with his bared teeth.
“Oh my God,” Josephine breathed.
Okay, she took it back. He was dialed up to fifteen.
“Tell me how you want to come,” he rasped, kissing the inside of her right knee. Then left. Eyes blazing with need. “I can jerk off while licking this pussy. Bet I come quick as a motherfucker hearing you whine, Josephine. Or you can get it hard and fast on your back. What’s it going to be?” He palmed his shaft through the sweatpants, squeezing. “Decide quick—I’m fucking starving for you.”
That made two of them. It went both ways.
Her hips were restless on the couch, her nipples in pain from being so hard. She usually required more exploring of her imagination to get this ready. Like, she had to think of something arousing instead of simply being turned on by the reality of touching another person. But not with Wells. Every erogenous zone she possessed was gasping for air, especially her stomach muscles, which were tied in knots, pulling more and more taut by the second. Decide quick—I’m fucking starving for you.
It was simply the nature of their relationship—and her nature in general—to challenge him. Throw in the fact that she’d never been more sexually empowered and Josephine found herself crooking a finger at him, melding their mouths together slowly, sensuously, when he came closer. “No sex. Not tonight.”