Page 182 of Shade
He sits down, nodding and runs his hand through his hair, but he’s not getting up and walking away, which I’m thankful for because I don’t want him to. After dinner and everything he said to me, the last thing I want is for the night to end. “I know.”
“You do?”
“Yes. I think it’s okay.” When I sit next to him, he looks at me, searching my eyes. Reaching up, he twirls a curl around his finger. “There’s no harm in waiting, is there?”
“No, there’s not,” I agree, smiling. “But we can do other things.”
He lets out a heavy breath when I step between his legs, his hands on my hips. “Thank fuck. I was hoping you’d say that.”
And in the next second, his mouth crashes to mine.
He lays on his back on the bed bringing me back with him.
He trails kisses until he reaches my shoulders and bites down on the strap of my dress and yanks with his teeth. It breaks under the force.
Okay, he didn’t like that dress as much as he said he did.
He rolls me over carefully, and I’m distracted when his hands cover my pierced nipples and he tugs on them. “What made you get your nipples pierced?”
“It wasn’t my idea. It was Asher’s.” Between my legs now, I watch him with rapt attention as he cups them. “But they’re tiny so adding bling really helped them out, don’t you think?”
Ask any woman, there’s a wrong and right way to answer this.
He laughs and bends forward, capturing my right nipple rings and swirls and tugs at the sensitive hard pebbles. “I think they’re perfect.”
He answers correctly.
My knuckles whiten as I tighten my grip on the comforter my palms are pressed against.
“Goddamn,” he says, drawn out and heavy, lids half open as he rocks above me. Bringing his thumb to my mouth, he presses it to my bottom lip, drags it along my lips and teeth, making me part them. “Let me hear you. Don’t hold back, tell me how it feels.”
My jaw falls slack, my moans for him filling the room. “It’s so good.” Dry humping isn’t usually my thing, but when you have a clit piercing and there’s only your panties and his shorts separating you from his cock, it’s fucking amazing.
Dipping his head forward, his mouth clamps around my nipples as he breathes the words, “Come for me, baby.”
My head falls back, my pleasure coming in waves. Shade is everywhere at once, moving hard and moaning so lowly. It’s a rough sound, and I think he’s hurt, but his rhythm is wild.
“It would be so good,” he says, nudging my panties aside and pushing his fingers inside me.
Brave on lust, my hand finds him. He groans, pushing my hand down harder, rubbing against it. His arms tremble from the weight bearing down on them. The ache between my legs is almost too much to handle. Shade’s talented. He gets me off in mere seconds; I’m not even lying.
Slowly kissing my neck, his fingers move harder and harder until my legs fall open and my back curves, my neck arching. “Are you imagining me inside of you?All of me.”
“I know what that’s like,” I tell him, catching his hooded eyes. His hand returns to mine, wanting me to touch him again. I guess somewhere in the process of my own long overdue orgasm, I’d stopped touching him. Time to finish the job.
Moving my hand along his length, soft and like marble, his sharp intake of breath when I begin my long, hard strokes tells me what I’m doing is what he wants, as if I actually had any doubt.
It’s certainly not long before his body shakes, his voice returning against my lips as we share breaths.
“Fuck, baby. . . don’t—” he begins, but doesn’t finish. What sounds like pain shifts into the sexiest unsteady breathing pattern ever as he chases his need into me, and then he comes, my hand covered in thick white cum.
Call me a rebel, but I bring my hand to my lips and lick it off. Before you get all grossed out on me, check out Shade’s reaction and tell me you’restilldisgusted.
Shade’s jaw clenches, his lustful fiery eyes intent on mine, watching me lick off his cum. As if he can’t take it anymore, his head falls forward, against my shoulder. “Christ. . . that was fucking hot.”
Told you.
“Now imagine that, butinside me,” I say, repeating his words.
Drawing back, he sits up before me running his hand through his hair. “I am. That’s the problem.”
