My head lolls back. My hands pull at his hair. A moan falls from my lips. And I buck my hips up, giving him access because the texture of the lace combined with the wet heat of his tongue evoke a different type of friction that makes rendering thought near impossible.
“You smell so fucking good, Say. So good,” he murmurs against me, the heat of his breath a hint of what he’s withholding from me. My body aches all over, burns from his praise, and from his words earlier tonight on the dance floor.
“Hayes.” I tighten my grip in his hair and try to pull his head up to tell him I don’t care about foreplay because our make-out session in the rain was more than enough for me. That and the fact that I just laid my heart on the line to him and he stepped into me instead of turning away.
I want him desperately.
Need him.
In me.
Right now.
Unwilling to give up the control, he shakes his head from my grip and in the action rubs the tip of his nose perfectly against my clit. I cry out as my body ignites.
“Not yet, Saylor. Don’t worry. I’ll fuck you, good and hard. I promise I’ll earn every damn moan that you make. But not until I lick every damn inch between your thighs. Taste you. Feel you. Own you.” His chuckle is low and rumbles in the space. His grin is full of sexual promise and I squirm beneath the touch of his finger where he’s slowly running it up and down the line of my sex outside the fabric. Just enough to let me sink into the sensation before he pauses, waits for my muscles to relax, for my overstimulated nerves to calm, and then he starts the process all over again. “But since words are cheap, I guess it’s time to prove it with actions. Hold tight, Ships. I’m not holding anything back.”
My smile is quickly replaced by a moan. My declaration that I wouldn’t beg falls to the wayside. My ability to form coherent thoughts obliterated when in a breath of time, Hayes has hooked my panties to the side with one hand and parted me with the fingers of his other. Then there’s his mouth. The heated skill of his tongue as he flicks it over my clit and works me into a frenzy. My hips writhe, my hands fist, and my teeth bite into my bottom lip. And just when my body begins to twist that coil of arousal so tight I know I’m going to reach the point of no return, he eases up and slides his tongue down to my wetness. Dips into me. Taunting. Teasing. Urging me to beg.
I’m so overwhelmed by the onslaught of sensations—the storm whirling around us and the need raging inside me—I don’t think I could form words if I tried.
And between his fingers and tongue, the desire within me grows. My hands grip tighter, my gasps become harsher, and my resolve not to beg vanishes as the orgasm rips through me.
“Hayes. Hayes. Yes. No. Oh God. Stop.” But contrary to my words, I hold his head between my thighs and lose myself in the soft slide of his tongue as he lets me ride out the ferocity of the climax he more than just earned.
I hear his chuckle. Feel its vibration against my hypersensitive nerves and squirm to shift away from him. But his hands on my thighs remain firm when he lifts his face so I can see the grin on his glistening lips.
“I’d like to gloat that you just begged.”
He shifts back to his knees with my legs framing his body. His voice husky with the violent desire reflected in his eyes.
“And I will, Saylor.”
He rips his shirt open causing buttons to pop onto the deck. I admire the sight of his firm biceps and lickable abs as he strips the sodden material from him.
“Oh, I will gloat.”
His hands work his belt followed by the sound of a zipper. Then the unmistakable movement of his hand sliding over his cock.
“But fucking you is more important.”
I wet my lips in anticipation. His eyes darken in ecstasy when he rubs the crest of his cock up and down my swollen sex. My moan is reflexive. My need unyielding.
The wind whips all around us but he stops to draw my eyes up to his. And when our gazes connect, he slowly pushes his way into me. I tense around him, my body and mind overwhelmed by the all-consuming pleasure the slide of his cock creates within me.
The groan he emits when he’s fully sheathed is incredibly sexy. Everything about him is. The way his head falls back, how his lips part, and how his fingers tense on my thighs.
And then he moves. His first slide out and then forceful slam back in causes that sweet, painful burn to spread like wildfire to every single part of me. I know he’s as consumed as I am. Lost in the moment. In the feeling of us connected. In every damn sensation between us.
Hayes sets a bruising pace from the get-go. There’s no apology in his movements. Nothing uttered from his lips other than my name. No other focus than the end game.
Time occurs in flashes of lightning. Snapshots of time when his figure is lit up amidst the dark around us.
His shoulders taut. Hands firm. Hips thrusting. Mouth pulled tight. Eyes focused on our union.
It’s erotic to watch him. Sexy. Empowering.
“Yes. God, yes, Say. Tell me yes,” he groans out as his hips buck wildly against me. I’m transfixed watching the orgasm consume him. The expression on his face and the broken way he says my name will forever be burned into my memory.