When he stops, I swear I might have stopped breathing. How am I supposed to respond to that?
“Do you trust me?” he asks, his voice strong and sure.
“Yes, Kane. Nerves or not, I do.”
“Then let me show you what I see when I look at you.”
He brings his hands up, framing my face once again in a way I’m quickly becoming addicted to the feeling of. His warm eyes implore, begging me without words to let him continue. I do not intend to stop him, regardless of the butterflies currently taking over my system. I’m all in.
When his lips touch mine, my whole body comes alive. My hands fist the soft cotton of his shirt, and I breathe him in. Our mouths move together, and when I feel his tongue sweep against my own, I moan deeply into his mouth. Each kiss we’ve shared before now feels like child’s play compared to the way he’s indulging in the taste of me—the same I am him.
It’s a slow build of power. Our desire rises with every twist and slide of our tongues. My hands release their hold of his shirt, and I slowly press them down, gliding against his cotton-covered muscles, desperate to feel the heat of his skin against my palms. My fingers tingle with each drag against his body.
Before I can move the hem and touch him the way I’m itching to, he spins me around and pulls my back to his front. His mouth returns to my body, and he presses softly against the sensitive skin just below my ear. My neck, branded in the heat of his wet kisses, has the tension of arousal coiling tighter and tighter with each slow drag.
“Your taste makes me feel like a drunk man, Willow,” he hums against the soft skin where my neck meets my shoulder. “I’m never going to get enough of it. Open your eyes, baby.”
I obey his command and gasp when I see he’s managed to move us in front of the mirror. The image of his large body behind mine makes it look as if he surrounds every inch of me. The heat combined with his kisses and hands makes me incapable of looking away from the image before me.
“Don’t you dare take your eyes off that mirror. Do you understand?”
I watch his lips move against my neck, my eyes moving from the erotic image up to his eyes, burning brightly, daring me to look away. I nod, but gasp only seconds later when the hands he had resting on my hips come up and start to unbutton my vest.
“This, this is so sexy. When I saw you earlier, all I could think about was what it would look like if you had just this on. The way your breasts would be on display for me to feast on. And I would feast until you were begging me, Willow. You would tell me how much you want me to move my mouth down your body as I pop each of these buttons open.”
His words end when he pulls the last of the three buttons open; he drags the garment from my body and drops it to the ground. His hands come up and cup each of my full and aching breasts.
“And then I turn those pleas into prayers when I deny you what you want until you’re as desperate for my touch as I am for yours.” He presses his hips into my back, his erection thick and heavy against me. “Only once I had you at the very edge would I dig my fingers in these hips I’ve been dreaming about and turn my mouth to the rest of you. I’ve been dreaming about having your thighs hugging my head for months, Willow. Months of wondering what you’ll taste like, how you’re going to scream my name when you come against my tongue, how you’re going to cry and plead for me to fill you.”
I gasp when his hands move from my hips and around to the button of my jeans. My eyes widen—not in fear or from nerves, but in anticipation. He laughs a wicked one full of promise, leaves my jeans, and before I can think of protesting, he pulls my shirt up and over my head, leaving me standing there in a barely-there black lace bra.
“Fuck me,” he rasps. “Beautiful.”
“Touch me,” I whisper huskily. Every word he’s spoken has created a web of confidence that wraps around me.
“I will.”
“Yes,” I pant.
“No.” His word is definite, but before I can let disappointment consume me, he does instead.
His deft fingers work quickly to snap the button and pull the zipper down, and then I feel his hand press into my jeans, cupping my core and rocking his hand against the wet material of my lace panties.
“You’re dripping for me, aren’t you?” he asks, his eyes half-mast and full of lust. The hand not currently wreaking havoc to my senses moves from my hips and he cups my heavy breast, his thumb and finger pinching my erect nipple through the material of my bra. “Do you feel how badly I want you?” he questions, rocking against my body.
I nod and my head falls back to his shoulder, watching him through the mirror as his lip goes between his teeth, then I feel his own moan vibrating against my back.
“You’re stunning, Willow, but when I see you like … fuck.” His breath comes out in a harsh hiss, and I shudder against his hold. “When I look at you, I see a woman who could bring me to my knees in a second, but like this, you have me begging to stay there.”
I moan shamelessly when he slips my panties to the side and one long finger pushes into my heat, curling and pushing against the tight walls inside me. A rush of wetness follows when his thumb presses and rolls against my clit, and I cry out as the coil inside me wraps so tightly its pleasure is consuming every inch of my body. I’m so close to shattering into a million blissful pieces that my trembling body would fall to the floor if he weren’t holding me captive against his strong hold.
My eyes start to grow heavy and his protest rumbles against my back, the noise coming from deep within him. “Don’t you dare close your eyes, Willow. See what I see. Watch your body responding to my touch. See how beautiful you are to me.”
He adds another finger, pressing them both deep into my body, stretching while he thrusts them in time with the hips rocking against my back. His free hand comes up and presses just under my stomach. I tense for just a second, but that second was all he needed. He makes a noise of protest before those wicked fingers plunge in deep, the hand against me pulling me tightly to his body.
“Every sinful curve on your body makes my mouth water. I want to run my tongue over every inch of you, tasting and biting until you have no doubt that what makes you tense with apprehension makes my cock hard to the point of insanity. Your body is meant for mine, and there is no place in your mind for you to doubt that.”
“Please,” I plead, not even sure what I’m asking him.