Con’s hands drifted from my waist to my ass, and I couldn’t help but grind down on his erection. Jeez. I’m such a hussy. I hadn’t done something like this since… well, never. My skirt was hiked up my thighs, and my thong barely qualified as an undergarment. I was surely going to leave a wet spot on his pants, which would be incredibly embarrassing, but I wasn’t going to worry about that just now. His hand slipped down to the back of my thigh and then up under my skirt. I froze, waiting for him to comment about the thong, and then realized for everyone else in the world, this wasn’t a novelty. Just for sexually repressed thirty year olds who still live with their fathers and wear full butt-covering underwear.
His callused hand skimmed my ass cheek, and he pulled away from my mouth and groaned. “Fucking A, Van. I put you on my bike in a skirt with you wearing practically nothing beneath it. You could have flashed the entire town.”
“To be fair, I didn’t know I was going to be on your bike, so that’s not really my fault.”
Con’s fingers curled, gripping my ass tighter, and pulling me closer. “I want to feel you on my dick. Jesus, why in the hell did I say I didn’t want to do this tonight? A little whiskey, and I decide to take the moral fucking high ground.”
I leaned back and looked Con in the eye. “You’re not changing your mind now. Not because I don’t want to, but because you’re right. It matters. And when we do have sex again, I don’t want you to wonder if it’s whiskey giving me the courage. I want you to know I’m with you because it’s what I want. Nothing more. Nothing less.”
Even as I spoke the words, I knew they weren’t completely true. Because Con would probably always wonder—would have to wonder—if I was only sleeping with him for the deed. Because if not for that deed, who knew if I would’ve ever set foot back into his world and given him the shot he’d asked for?
His lips landed on my collarbone… then his teeth. Shards of pleasure shot through me, and I moaned his name. His hand, still clutching my ass, squeezed and released, and I rocked against his erection. The rough denim of his jeans rubbed against the flimsy lace of my panties, ratcheting up my arousal. If we kept this up, I was going to come. My head dropped back, and I whispered, “Don’t stop. Please, don’t stop.”
Con didn’t listen. He twisted sideways and lowered me at an angle. Pressing my body into the sofa, he covered me completely. My skirt was shoved up to my waist, and my legs were spread, accommodating his narrow hips. If I thought I could feel his hard-on before, that was nothing compared to the thick, solid heat that branded me now.
He was relentless.
Lips skimmed along my jaw, to my ear, to my throat. Teeth scraped against the tendons of my neck, sending shivers through my entire body. My hips bucked, and I relished the friction his body offered.
I cursed us both for putting sex off limits tonight. I hadn’t been beneath a man like this since… I didn’t even want to admit how long it’d been.
“Con. I lied. Tonight. Now. Please.”
My words made no sense as they fell from my lips. But I was certain that the intensity of my need was obvious.
Con pushed up, and I cursed the lack of contact. “Don’t stop.”
This time he didn’t stop. Thank God.
He tugged down the neck of my camisole, exposing my lacy bra. It matched the thong and was much more daringly cut than I would normally wear. I could picture myself through his eyes. Face flushed. Breasts spilling out from the tiny demi cups barely large enough to cover my nipples. For the first time in my life, I wanted him to look. I wanted him to want. I didn’t think about my boobs being too big or the spidery stretch marks left over from my adolescence. All I thought about was how amazing it was to see the reverent look on his face when he supported himself on one arm and reached out to cup my left breast before freeing it from the bra. His eyes darted up to mine before dropping once again.
“Fucking Christ. You’re so goddamn gorgeous.” His thumb brushed my nipple and it pebbled under this touch. I released a pent up breath, arching toward him, wanting more.
And he gave me more.
Sliding down and propping himself up on both elbows, Con’s big hands squeezed and kneaded my breasts, flicking at my nipples until I was writhing against him. My legs wrapped around his waist, and I desperately sought the friction that would send me over the edge. I didn’t care that this was ridiculous. I didn’t care that this was insane. I just wanted Con to make me come.
It’d been so damn long since anyone other than me had gotten me off. But when Con pulled away and untangled himself from my legs, disappointment filled me. I was so close.
“Please. Don’t stop. I just want to—”
“You want to come?”
I nodded helplessly.
“Don’t worry, babe. I got you.” On his knees, Con stared down at me. “I want to taste you first.”
I blinked as his words crystallized in my brain. “Wh—”
“You going to let me get you off my way? Or are you going to make me leave you wanting more?”
My mouth dropped open. “You would seriously—”
Con’s grin was wicked, and at that moment, I wanted to slap it right off his face, the arrogant son of a bitch.
“You want to try me? Or do you want to come?” He raised an eyebrow, and his hand trailed up my thigh, teasing me with the promise of an orgasm.
The same stretch marks were there, but in the mostly dark room, he wouldn’t see them.
“Yes.”
“Yes, what?”
“Make me come.”