Harder.
Like he senses what I need, he complies until his fingers almost bruise, where his hold rides that border between pleasure and pain.
Perfection.
I let out a sigh of delight and pull him closer. His powerful thigh wedges between mine, and everything pulses in me when I feel him hard and thick against my hip.
Wordlessly, I undo the buttons of his shirt because I need to feel his heat against mine. When his shirt is off, all I can do is admire his strength that doesn’t come from obsessing in the gym but from long hours working on his ranch. From his dedication to his family business. And damn if that doesn’t make me like him more.
Strained muscles bend and flex over me as he settles himself fully between my legs, the weight of him nearly making my eyes roll back in my head.
Which is when I realize how much larger he is than anyone I’ve ever been with.
Above me, his beautiful broad shoulders blot out the stars and sky. His hand stretches across the expanse of my stomach. I have to wiggle my hips to make him fit between my thighs.
Who says you can have too much of a good thing?
It’s not possible.
Because Ethan feels divine.
Hard to my soft. Rough to my smooth.
I breathe in his cologne and the scent of leather that clings to his skin before our mouths connect, and I indulge in languid, deep kisses that turn fierce and desperate.
When we break apart, he dips his head to my neck and takes one long suck that has me moaning into the quiet night.
It’s too much and not enough.
I writhe beneath him, out of my mind when he palms my thigh and thrusts against me. Out of my mind when he sucks my nipple into his hot mouth. Out of my mind when he reaches between my legs.
An appreciative growl rumbles in his chest.
“I love that you’re so wet,” he mutters against me.
Of course I’m wet.I want to tell him how much he turns me on, but my mouth can’t form words.
Leaning back, he bunches my skirt at my waist and traces the damp fabric between my legs again.
When he pulls the pink lace to the side, I spread my legs more and let him look.
I want him to look.
I want him to see what he does to me.
“Love this, baby. Love that you’re bare,” he groans.
His eyes stay pinned to where his finger rubs me in small circles.
“Oh, my God.” My breath stutters, and I reach for my breasts to pinch my nipples, wanting that bite of pain.
I’m close.
So close that when he slides a thick finger into me, I gasp.
“Yes. Yes. Yes.” The word leaves my lips, increasing like a crescendo when he adds a second finger.
But it’s the first swipe of his tongue that leaves me breathless.
