I kept hold of her hand, brought it to my lips. Kissed her palm, and then the underside of her wrist. Up along her forearm, kissing my way toward her body. “Nah. I can shake that shit off easy enough. Nah babe, you wanna stop me, you gotta nut-shot me with all you’ve got. Otherwise, I’m pretty much unstoppable. That’s why they call me Basher in the ring, ’cause I can just bash my way through any amount of pain and get the win.”
“Oh,” she breathed.
Her eyes were wide, and her breathing was catching now and again, alternating between sucking in deep, shaking breaths—which did wonderful things to those big, natural, jiggly tits of hers—and not breathing at all. And then she would suck in a breath, suddenly and sharply, and she would jiggle and bounce all over again, and god, my dick was going to explode like a motherfuckin’ pipe bomb in a second.
I kept kissing along her arm, my lips now pressing along the inside of her bicep, laying it down on the pillow, over her head. When I reached the transition point from arm to armpit, I took her other hand in mine and repeated the line of kisses from palm to armpit. And this time, keeping my eyes on hers for any hint of hesitation, I touched my lips to the outside of her breast. She sucked in a sharp breath at the contact, her lower lip caught between her teeth. Her eyes were on me, on my mouth, watching me. I met her gaze, sliding my lips along her silky flesh, closer and closer to her nipple.
“The point I was making,” I murmured, “was that I take one look atthesepoints”—and here I nibbled at the sweet, delicate, firmness of one erect nipple, and then the other—“and I’m just…fuckin’ helpless. Igottataste you. Taste this, and this, and this.” At each repetition ofthis, I kissed her somewhere else on her breast, the insides, the underside, the nipples. “I don’t know how else to put it, Eva. I’m normally pretty good at resisting temptation and keeping my shit in check, but you just…you fuckin’ do somethin’ to me, babe.”
“What? What do I do to you?”
“Drive me crazy, that’s what.”
She gasped as I suckled her nipple, letting my teeth graze and nip. “But I’m not—I’m not doing anything.”
“Don’t have to. That’s the point. It’s just…you.”
I forced myself away, forced my hands and mouth away from the delicious perfection of her breasts, which was a monumental feat of self-control on my part.
I slid my hand under her neck and lifted her up.
“Bax? What are you—”
I answered her before she could finish the question: I kissed the ever-loving fuck out of her. Which, in terms of helping the achy-breaky, dick’s-about-to-explode hard-on I was rocking, was a stupid move, since I had no intention of letting it go there between us just yet. Which meant suffering through it until it went away or I had a few minutes to rub one out…or two, or ten.
God, what a kiss. This time, I didn’t hold back. I just fuckin’ gave it to her, both barrels, full blast. Tongue searching the hot cavity of her mouth, lips scouring hers, teeth nipping at her lips, fingers buried in her thick black locks. I couldn’t help myself. Once I got that kiss going, I was just lost. Gone. Buh-bye. Brain short-circuited, body going haywire. I leaned over her, pressed against her, moaning into her mouth as I felt the squish of her bare tits against my chest. She lifted up into the kiss, reaching around to cup the back of my head and slide against me eagerly, and her tongue slid against mine, and her lips sought mine with wild fervor. I knelt on the bed, and she shifted, accepting my weight above her, and she kicked the blankets and sheet away. Her bare toes slid along my calf, and her palms slid down to my shoulders, clinging to me, keeping me locked into the kiss, as if I’d ever give up a kiss like this.
More, more.
Fuck, this was dangerous. I was riding the razor-edge of my control, pushing the envelope. I knew I couldn’t take her all the way yet, but I needed…fuck, just…more. I knew it was going to end, I knew she would come to her senses and ghost on me, and soon. Go back to her life, to her dad, to Thomas, to Yale, to her fancy life of luxury in which foul-mouthed, hard-fisted, blue-collar bruisers like me had no place. But shit, Iwantedher. I wanted to hear her talk more, hear more about her, get her to open up, hear her scream, feel her lose control, watch her discover the wild thing living inside her.
For now, all I could do was kiss her.
I lifted up, bracing my weight on one hand, and let my other hand palm her tit, thumbing the nipple until she gasped into my mouth, and then I traced the bell of her waist and hip, teased the waistband of the sweatpants. Her hands sought the hem of my shirt and eagerly dug under it, palming the muscles of my back, my shoulders, and then my waist.
She was touching me greedily.
Kissing me just as greedily.
She shifted against me, tilted her hips, and I felt myself yanking at the sweatpants and hauling them down so I could palm her ass, kneading it, clawing the firm heft of it, pulling at her, tugging her closer. She moaned, murmured something unintelligible. Pushed at my shirt, trying to get it off.
Flexed her hips again.
God, she wanted it.
She wanted an orgasm. Wanted me to touch her. She may not have known or understood outright, in so many words, but that was what she was begging for, right then.
Kissing me, giving me access to get those pants down, even shimmying her hips and thighs so they were lower. Pressing against me. Devouring my tongue and exploring my back and shoulders with her hands, daring to reach down to the waistband of my shorts.
I wanted to bury myself in her. Make her scream. Haul those pants all the way off and taste the delight between her thighs. Get her to touch me. Really get her going.
I broke the kiss and rested my forehead against hers. Slid my hand between us, teasing over her now-bare hip, the crease where thigh met hip bone, inches from her core. “You want to come again, don’t you, honey?”
She hummed an affirmative, flexing her hips.
“Let me hear some words, honey.” I nipped her lip as I slid the tip of my middle finger to the upper crest of her slit. “I want it—say that.”
Her arms wrapped around my neck, and she whimpered. Clung to me, shook her head. “I can’t.”
