I test her.
Dip closer, cradling her beautiful face in my rough workman's hands. Touch my lips, as softly as I can, to the spot where her tongue was, that little corner of her mouth.
She gasps, a sudden sharp inhale, and her hands clap against my chest, fingernails digging in. "Bear," she breathes.
Pulls back just a hint. Runs her nails down my chest, down my abs. Hesitates. Slowly, slowly, she slides the button of my fly free from the opposing buttonhole. I stop breathing. My lungs burn, my skin burns—everything is on fire, so superheated I'm half-worried she'll combust upon contact.
She keeps her eyes on my face as she tugs the zipper down, down, until it rests at the bottom of the V. My aching, straining, painful erect cock pushes into the opening. She steals a glance down, eyes flying wide and then returning to mine, lower lip caught in her teeth. She says nothing, however. Hooks her fingers in the belt loops at my hips and tugs my wet jeans down until they sag loose—I step on a cuff and yank my leg free, and then the other. Now I'm in nothing but a pair of tight gray boxer briefs, and there's nothing to hide my arousal.
"Your turn," she whispers.
I sink to my knees in front of her, and she cups my cheek, brushes a thumb over my lips, and then frees my hair from the ponytail, slicking her fingers through my hair until it's loose.
Hands shaking, I wrap them around her waist, which I can’t quite span, but almost. Soft skin, pale skin. Beautiful, perfect skin.
Unable to catch my breath, I hook my fingers inside the stretchy waistband of her yoga pants, careful to make sure her underwear stays in place. Look up at her—she nods. Runs small, clever hands over my head, petting my hair with such tenderness it makes my lungs seize all over again.
Tug down, peeling the skintight black fabric inside out, baring a lacy black thong, the triangle covering her sex— the damp, black material sticks to her skin, framing the outlines of her seam. High hipbones and the silk of her inner thighs. Her belly button is tiny and shallow. Long legs. Powerful legs. Thick, smooth, luscious thighs.
Small, delicate feet, toenails painted bright red.
She steps out of the pants, toes them aside, pressing her thighs together, eyes wide, shimmering.
I stay on my knees in front of her, shaky hands hovering above her thighs. Boldened by the kiss, and further by her allowing me to help her out of her pants, I settle my hands on her thighs, wrapping my hands around as much of their generous, lush curves as I can. Her breath catches, eyes wide even as her brows furrow, lips parted—a sensual, wild, fraught expression.
"Keep going," she whispers. "Please."
"So fucking gorgeous," I grate, throat raw with the fire in my lungs. "Take my breath away."
She fists my beard and leans down. "Then have mine."
Her lips meet mine, and her tongue is soft and wet and hot in my mouth all at once, and her breath is in my lungs, cooling the burn, stealing the ache. Greed for her skin, her curves, her soft flesh surges through me and takes over.
I do what I've longed, yearned, and dreamed of doing since the moment I laid eyes on her: I let my hands slide up theoutside of her thighs, pause, shaking, and then glide up to cup her ass.
She whimpers into the kiss, and then gasps. "Yes."
"Perfect," I growl. "Fucking incredible."
I want to weep at the feel of her ass in my hands—hot, silky skin, round and plump and firm. I explore it, the curves of it, palming the delicate weight of each awe-inspiring cheek, lifting and releasing, kneading, clawing, desperate to touch, fearful against reason that she’ll suddenly come to her senses and make me stop.
"God, Bear." She cradles my face, tilts my head up to hers. "The way you touch me. It takesmybreath away."
“Then have mine," I say, echoing her words.
"Yes, please," she breathes.
Her breath is sweet, her tongue nimble, daring, darting. Tasting, teasing, probing. Demanding mine. She pulls away just enough to allow words to emerge, lips moving on mine, her voice barely a breath. "Keep going, Bear. All the way."
"Noelle," I mutter, my voice so deep it's coming from my toes. "You're sure?"
Her lips curve in a smile against mine. "Sosure. Iwantyou to." She slides her hands over my shoulders, down my back, scratching and caressing. "And then it's my turn."
"All the way?"
"All of me, Bear. You can haveallof me. Please.”
Still on my knees, I sink back to sit on my heels, searching her for signs of nerves, of refusal, of hesitation.
