“Flashing me your legs, just because I’m talking about your cousin.” I smile at his assumption.
“If I was flirting with you, Cam, I wouldn’t be sitting with my legs stretched out on the sofa. I’d have them wrapped around your neck while I sat on your face.” He throws his head back and gives me his big Cam laugh and I can’t help but throw my arms around his neck and hold him for a few seconds. I breathe him in and say quietly, “God, I’ve missed that laugh. I’ve missed your laugh and your smell so much.” He slides his hand under his hoodie that I’m wearing and runs his fingertips up and down my spine. I shudder in response.
“I love the way your body reacts to me. If I touch your nipples now, how hard would they be?” I feel lightheaded with desire. I ache for him to be inside me again.
“Hard enough to cut glass.” I turn myself around and straddle him, grinding my hips into his once they’re lined up.
“If I put my hand in your shorts, how wet will you be?” He bites along my jaw as he asks the question, and again I shudder and he gives a little laugh.
“Wet. I’m wet.”
“How wet, Kitten?” I can feel him grow harder underneath me, and as I start to rub harder, he grabs my hips and stills me. I pull back to look at him and his brown eyes meet mine. “Stop rubbing yourself off on my jeans. I want you in my bed naked. I want your skin on mine. I want you calling me, begging me, Kitten. I need you to convince me that you want and need me as much as I want and need you.” His teeth drag over my jaw and neck as he finishes speaking and I let out a moan.
“Take me to bed, Cam. Take me to bed and I’ll show you. I’ll show you how much I want and need you.”
He stands and carries me upstairs still wrapped around him. He lays me back on his bed and switches on a lamp. I push myself up on my elbows, putting me at eye level with the boner he’s got going on in his jeans. I look up to meet his eyes and he has a cocky grin on his face.
“Get naked. I’m gonna shower. Then I’m gonna make you scream, beg and call my name.” He turns around and goes into the en suite. I take off what I’m wearing and lay on my belly, my chin resting in my hands as I face the bathroom, waiting for him to finish his shower. He’s only gone a few minutes when I hear the shower go off and he returns, dripping wet, with a towel around his hips. He is just so male, so my Mr TDH and he looks even better wet. Our eyes meet as he puts his hands on his hips and looks me over. “Don’t move, Kitten. I want you to stay exactly like that.
He moves around the bed as I lay still. I don’t even turn my head. I feel his hands around my ankles as he uncrosses my legs and spreads them wide. I feel his hand in my hair as he moves it from my back and brushes it all over my right shoulder and he gently bites my left. I turn and look at him. He gives me the sexiest pout and a ‘what?’ kind of look, knowing full well how much I like the feel of his teeth on me. He winks, and if I had a womb, it would’ve just exploded. I don’t know why I let thoughts like that into my head, sometimes they just slip in to torture me and my throat tightens. I turn back away from him as he uses his middle and index fingers to trace down the bumps of my spine. When he gets to my bum, he keeps going, dragging two fingers right through the middle of me, he keeps going until he reaches my clit, he circles his fingers and I let out an, “Oh, God,” and grind myself down onto his hand.
“Still, Kitten, keep still and I’ll give you what you want, but I want to play for a while. I need to see you. I need to hear you. I need to taste you.”
This time it’s an, “Oh, fuck,” that I let go of and I suddenly feel his teeth sink into my bum cheek.
“I don’t want to hear that. It’s not ladylike.”
“Tiger, I’m lying face down naked on your bed while you rub my clit. I think I left my ladylikeness at the door.”
Without saying a word, he pushes his fingers inside me, but he doesn’t move them. He leaves them completely still as he lifts my leg by my foot and gently bites the back of my ankle. My Achilles heel and I can’t help but think how appropriate that is. That’s what he’s always been for me, my Achilles, my weak spot. Despite being happily married and in love with my husband, I fucked this man and I thought about him far too often during my marriage, and now, here I am. My husband’s dead and now here I am, back in his bed, and as much as I want this, I know it’s wrong, but I don’t want it to be. I want to somehow make it right, make it okay. It’s not even the rest of the world I care about convincing. It’s just myself.