More. I need more.
He does too. His hands gather up my shirt, pulling it over my head with an impatient tug. “Let me see you.” His finger flicks open the front clasp of my bra before he smoothes his rough palm under the cup and along my breast. “Let me touch you.”
I groan, arching up, desperate to wiggle out of the bra. He helps pull it free.
Dex kisses me once, almost distracted, then his gaze moves to my chest, a lock of hair falling over his brow as he looks down. “Mmm,” he hums, rubbing the flat of his palm in a circle over my chest. “There they are.”
He captures the stiff tip of my nipple between his fingers and gives it a tweak, tugging a little. And I moan, the action sending heat punching straight to my clit.
“You like that?” He does it again, lingering longer before swooping down to suck my abused nipple deep into his warm mouth.
God. My hands grip his hair, holding him there as he sucks and tugs, his wet tongue flickering over me. He plumps my breast with his fingers, sucks me again. The way he goes at me is almost single-minded, as if the world could fall apart around us and he wouldn’t stop. It is so fucking hot I can barely breathe.
Big hands cup my breasts, kneading and playing with them. And all the while he licks my nipples. Sucks and nips at them until I’m writhing beneath him, desperate for some relief, for him to sink his cock into me. I make a sound of impatience but he simply lifts his head and stares, rapt, at my chest.
“God, you’re so fucking gorgeous,” he rasps. “Look at you, all pretty and flushed and panting.” He presses the tip of his thumb against my nipple, making me whimper. “Will you come like this? From me playing with your tits?”
I just might.
“Dex—”
“Ethan,” he says. “When I have my mouth on you, it’s Ethan.”
Then he puts his mouth on mine, claims it like he already owns it. I shiver, lick my way across his upper lip before kissing him long, deep. He shivers then too.
“Ethan,” I say, just to give him what he wants. “Ethan.”
He kisses me, a rhythmic undulation, his tongue slowly thrusting in and out of my mouth, his fingers worrying my nipple, plucking at it, flicking it in a way that’s almost crude.
It’s too much.
“Touch my *,” I demand against his lips. I’m almost halfway to coming as it is. “Touch it.”
I feel his smile.
“Is it wet?” His hand slides down my bare stomach.
“Fucking dripping,” I pant, kissing his cheek, the corner of his eye, his mouth again.
He slips beneath my panties, and I’m so worked up, so hot, that I arch off the bed, a strangled groan tearing from me as his blunt fingers ease over my slick flesh.
The world tilts on its axis. Dizzy, I grab onto his rock-hard shoulders.
His breath fans my face, his lips just grazing mine as he watches me. I stare back, unable to move—to fucking breathe—as his fingers slip-slide and circle my sex. His touch is messy. No finesse, just pure, methodical greed.
“I think you’re a closet sadist,” I say through gritted teeth, my hips jerking against his hand.
Though he’s shaking, sweat dotting his brow, his eyes smile at me. “Why?”
“You’re enjoying this. Driving me crazy—” A strangled moan tears out of me and his thick, long finger plunges in deep. “Oh, fuck.”
With an answering groan, he drags that finger out, pushes in again. I strain into his palm, my arms stretching overhead to claw at the pillows.
“Ethan…” I want to fuck him. I need to. My teeth grind with impatience.
He pushes another finger into me. So thick. So good.
“Cherry,” he whispers, licking my breast. “Give it to me, Cherry.”
My orgasm rides through me so hard, I come back to myself in stages—the warmth of his hard body, the sheets wrinkled beneath my sweaty skin, my breath slowly leveling out.
Slightly dazed, I blink up at him. He looks slightly dazed as well, his eyes wide, his lips parted.