I watch his eyes shift back down and trail lower. “Um, I don’t know. Maybe. You definitely gave it your all. Is that really what you can’t stop thinking about?” ‘Cause your body language is screaming something else entirely. Of course, Reese always looks at me like this. I’m certain that even if we were in church, he’d be able to melt the panties off me right in front of Jesus.
He nods, keeping his eyes on my body. “I want that so bad. I’ve never wanted that, Dylan. You don’t understand. I’ve never thought about having kids before. Hell, I’ve never thought about getting married before.” He leans into me, forcing me to lie back onto the bed. I reach for his tie, wrapping it around my hand as he holds himself above me. “But when I look at you, it’s all I can think about. Marriage. Kids. Everything. I want it all with you. And I don’t want to wait.”
Oh, Reese. I raise my eyebrows, loosening my grip on his tie. “To marry me or to have kids?”
“To have kids. I’m dealing with the other thing.” He leans down and kisses the corner of my mouth, once and then once again before slowly moving down my body. “Don’t make me wait, love. I need to see you like that.”
I moan as he brushes his lips against my rib cage. “Like what?” I know what. I just want to hear him say it. Because what the hell is hotter than the man you love wanting you to carry his child? Nothing. Especially coming from this man.
“With my baby inside you.”
I reach down and thread my fingers through his hair. “Are you going to be late for work so you can make that happen right now? Because I’m all for another round of baby-making sex with you if that’s where this is headed.” Suck it up, vagina. You can be sore tomorrow.
“No, that’s not exactly why I’m here. Close, though.” He drops to his knees and drapes my legs over his shoulders. His hands grip my hips and he slides me closer to the edge of the bed, his lip curling up into a sly grin. “I’m going to be late for work because on top of not being able to stop thinking about last night, I also can’t stop thinking about the taste of your *. And I was too busy yesterday fucking you all over the condo to get any of it. So lie back, keep your legs open, and give me what’s mine.”
“Jesus. I love when you order me around like that. Seriously, please do that all the time. Just not like to do your laundry or anything.” He swipes up my length with his tongue, prompting me to fist the comforter. “Oh, God.” His fingers dig into my hips as he flicks against my clit in a pulsing rhythm. At the feel of his teeth on my swollen spot, I arch off the bed and dig my heels into his back. “Reese. Jesus Christ.”
“Mmm. You like that. You want it rough?”
I push his head down to silence him. I’m shaking, my thighs convulsing against his cheeks as he ravages me like it’s his first time tasting me. Of course, he always goes at me like this, like he’ll never get enough of me. He alternates between my clit and my *, stroking and sucking until he begins to fuck me with his tongue. I can’t take it. I’m begging him to stop, to keep going, to do whatever the hell he wants. I’m a blubbering idiot right now because that’s what his mouth does to me; it wipes all coherent thoughts from my head. And when I feel his finger dip into me briefly before trailing my wetness down to my backside, I lose my mind completely.
“Yes. Oh, God, please. Right there. Right fucking there.”
He buries his face between my legs, humming against me while he presses his finger against my ass. This move of his, one I never thought I’d be into until he was the man doing it, this move makes me see fucking stars when I’m coming. He doesn’t do it all the time, but when he does surprise me with this stellar addition to his orgasm-taking routine, my body vibrates for hours afterwards.
“Goddamn, you’re beautiful when you come. Did that feel as good as it looked?”