His deep voice was even huskier than normal, and I shivered at the way it rumbled out of him. His eyes gleamed at me like polished stones, and when he shifted so that he was directly between my spread legs, I could see his erotic intent reflected back at me. I wasn’t the type of girl to let a guy go down on her without several dates and a strong sense of comfort built into the relationship. It was too intimate, too open and raw, so it generally made me too tense to enjoy, but here I was on the stairs in the center of my house, not caring that the lights were on, the windows were open, and I wanted it. God, did I want him to lower his head and fulfill all those dark and dirty promises his eyes were making me.
I leaned back on my elbows on the stair that was behind me and whimpered a little bit when he tickled the inside of my thigh with his work-roughened fingers as he put one of my legs over his shoulder. Thank God for yoga and mornings at the gym. Even with him a few steps below me he was still so tall and so big, so it was a stretch and it burned . . . in a really good way.
I was pretty sure I was blushing the brightest red possible, even in those hidden, sweet places he was now staring directly at. I gulped a little bit and squeezed my eyes closed as tightly as they would go.
“You are flawless. You know that, right?” I felt his words right before the damp press of his lips hit the inside of my knee. The soft brush of his facial hair had goose bumps chasing his mouth as he kissed his way up the inside of my leg. I’d never felt flawless, just honed and polished to a perfect shine that reflected back what I thought everyone wanted to see. With Zeb’s mouth on mine and his hands touching me like I was something rare and precious, that shine was starting to dull, to get marked up, and all the rust and tarnish that went way down inside of me was starting to show.
One of his hands curled around my hip and the other made me jolt as his fingers dipped between my legs and danced between folds and into places that were already wet and aching. I muttered his name on a drawn-out sigh and shifted so that I could wind my fingers into the thick mess of his dark hair. I wanted to hold him to me forever, and if I thought the tickle of his beard against my lips was addicting I knew that I would never recover from the way it felt rubbing against the sensitive skin at the apex of my thighs. It was rough and springy. It scraped across my skin at the same time as his fingers stroked inside my body and his clever tongue landed on my clit.
I think I screamed. I probably screamed because he chuckled against my throbbing center and continued his overwhelming stimulation. I was pulling on his hair, urging him closer and closer even though he was invading all my private places in the most devastating ways possible. He added another finger to the wetness he was coaxing out of me and the gentle nip of teeth. It had my hips arching up off the step I was sitting on and my legs quaking where they rested next to his head. There wasn’t any place to hide from him or the feelings and emotions he had coursing through me. It was a lot to process and I was shocked that I wanted more. I was stunned when the words flew out of my mouth between pants and his name. I asked him to destroy me, to own me, to push me over the edge and leave me shattered in the aftermath. I didn’t use those words exactly, but when I told him “more,” and “deeper,” and “harder,” I think he understood the message.
Suddenly he had my hips in his hands and was lifting them up to his face. The sheer strength this required made me melt, and when he barked at me to touch myself right before his tongue filled up the empty space his fingers had left, I thought I was going to evaporate into nothing. He was fucking me with his mouth, his hands were hard on my skin, leaving marks I knew I would stare at with a mixture of awe and pride in the morning, and I was letting my own fingers drift over that intense spot of pleasure with a deftness I had never, ever known myself to have. The thought of all the times I had done this to myself while thinking of him, while imagining him doing this very thing to me, was enough to have me convulsing and enough to have pleasure rushing across my fingers and flooding his quick tongue with desire. He groaned deep in his chest, a heavy rumble of satisfaction, and it was so hot. We were so hot and I couldn’t believe it. There was nothing cold or icy crawling up my spine, just languid satisfaction and the need to make him feel as good as I felt.
He let my legs fall limply to his sides and bent forward to place a kiss right above my belly button. I sighed at the abrasion of his beard against my skin there and shivered from the wet kiss of what was left of my orgasm where it clung to him and now to me as well. It was sexy as hell and I wanted to touch his lips where they smirked and shined at me.
“Flawless.” I wasn’t sure what to say to that, so I decided not to say anything at all.
The fabric of my skirt was still all twisted around my waist and I wanted it gone, so I sat up and started to wiggle out of it. Once it was in a heap on the stairs at my feet and I was totally naked, I finally managed to find some composure, rose to my feet, and held out a hand that he immediately clasped in his own.