Seven Years

When he didn’t answer, I got irritated. “B-cup not enough for you?”

 

 

His left hand firmly covered my mouth. “Will you be quiet for a moment while I drink you in? I’ve fantasized about this moment for the last seven years, so give me a minute. I’m not going to rush the first time I get to see your body beneath mine. That okay?”

 

I stitched my lips together and let him make love to me with his salacious eyes while my fingers memorized his broad, inked shoulders and firm biceps. His skin was sticky and taut beneath my hands and I wanted to taste him as he slid down the length of my body.

 

Austin’s lips skimmed across the flat of my stomach and I sucked in, stretching my arms up. Then it occurred to me I’d waited too long to just lie around while he took his time exploring territory he had recently vacationed to. I grabbed a fistful of hair and yanked him up, kissing him hard on the mouth.

 

He ran his hand over the lace of my white bra and dragged his mouth to the soft curve of my neck. My heart thundered like the hooves of a hundred stallions.

 

“Seven years,” I whispered. “We’re almost strangers.”

 

Austin quit fumbling with my bra, grabbed both cups, and pulled it apart. With a snap, it gave way. His mouth sucked ravenously on my nipple while his left hand curved around and squeezed, sending a bolt of pleasure all through my body. “Then let’s get to know each other. Favorite band?” he murmured.

 

“Mumford & Sons. You?”

 

His mouth journeyed lower until his tongue leisurely circled around my belly button. I whimpered a soft moan and loosened my grip on his hair.

 

“Kings of Leon,” he said, pinching my nipples with his warm fingers.

 

“They have like two songs I’ve ever heard.”

 

“Yeah, but they’re good songs.” Then he swung his eyes up to mine and slowly sang the opening verse of “Sex on Fire.”

 

Oh God, I melted listening to his lush, raspy voice. Austin had a singing voice he rarely used, but when he did, it was a force of nature on my body.

 

“How many girls have you dated?”

 

He took his sweet time sliding my shorts down, kissing the soft skin surrounding my panties. “Five,” he murmured.

 

“Five?” I almost shouted. “Jeez, you make me feel like a slut.”

 

“How many?” he asked, pulling my shorts away from my ankles. He knelt at my feet, staring up the length of my body.

 

I bit my lip. “Nine. But only two were serious.”

 

Austin cracked a smile. “Not serious enough. None of them matter.”

 

Then he fell over me and the clash of our heated bodies intensified the tension building between us. I was swimming in a pool of desire and close to drowning in the deep end.

 

“You still own those brown cowboy boots?” he asked, kissing my neck roughly. Then his hips took on a life of their own as he rocked them against me.

 

I moaned some kind of desperate sound, struggling to pay attention as his tongue moved in slow circles between the sucking. “No, the heel broke.”

 

“Good. I hated those damn boots.”

 

Well, that was just insulting. “Hey, what about your ‘I’m so badass’ fringed leather gloves?”

 

He pinched my nipple and put me in my place as his hips thrust against mine.

 

“Still got ’em, and I’m still badass.”

 

I nipped his jaw and licked at his ear, making him shudder. “If I see you in them, I’m cutting off those fringes.”

 

A grin stretched across his face. “Don’t even try it.”

 

Then his mouth was on mine.

 

“Pudding,” I said in a quick breath.

 

“What?” He didn’t stop kissing me.

 

I turned my head to the side, allowing him to taste my neck and shoulder. My fingers weaved through his hair slowly. “You wanted to know what I craved when I shifted from wolf form. It’s pudding.”

 

He lifted my leg, grinding against me, and I moaned. “Chocolate or vanilla?”

 

I was tired of talking and my breath sounded as if I had run a marathon. Austin cupped between my legs and massaged as he spoke against my lips. “Answer the question.”

 

I wasn’t sure I wanted to if this was the punishment. He stroked his finger deep.

 

“Chocolate!”

 

I made a complaining sound as he shifted on top of me again.

 

“What’s wrong?” he asked, lifting his head to look at me.

 

“The floor hurts my back.”

 

The next thing I knew, Austin stood up and pulled me into his arms. My legs were wrapped around his waist like pythons and he pushed me up against the wall. A painting crashed to the floor and the frame split. We were too busy trying to determine how far we could get our tongues into each other’s mouths.

 

I was trembling all over; never had I felt so aroused by a man.

 

Then I started working my hips and he turned around, trying to figure out what to do with me as we backed up against the window. I ripped the drapes down and the rod knocked over a picture frame on the TV stand.

 

“Oh God!” I cried out, so completely taken by his mouth all over me, the feel of his chest against mine, the smell of him.

 

“Shit, where?” he grumbled out.