Read Online Amy Bensen 01 Escaping Reality by Lisa Renée Jones - Free Book Online
Authors: Lisa Renée Jones
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now, for him, for the escape he has promised me.
My lashes flutter and just that quickly he is on his knees, inching my skirt
upward, and there is only the emptiness that is my ache to feel him inside
me. I am in a haze of desire, and my skirt is somehow at my waist, his
tongue tracing the top of one of my thigh-highs, then traveling up and
down my leg. The urge to tug my hands free, to tunnel my finger into his
thick, dark hair, and force his mouth where I want it, is almost too much to
bear.
“I want to touch you,” I pant. “I need to touch you.”
His eyes meet mine, and they are hot with desire and dark with
command. “Not yet,” he orders, and with no warning, he wraps his fingers
around the thin strips at my hips and tugs my panties down to my feet. I
step out of them. Or I think I do. I don’t know. Everything is a haze of
nerves, and desire, and need. But they are gone and Liam’s fingers are
exploring the slick, wet center of my body, and his mouth is on my upper
thigh, teasing me with where it might go, where it hasn’t gone and I soon
hope it will be.
He slips two fingers deep inside me and there are panting, moaning
sounds filling the air that I barely recognize as coming from me, and I try to
control myself, but I cannot. I’m not sure I’m really trying. I am so wet and
so aroused, I am certain I will come ridiculously quickly. The idea is
embarrassing and I try to will my body to calm. I try to resist the pleasure
building low in my belly and spiraling into my sex, but it is growing,
consuming me like a black hole where nothing but pleasure exists. It
reaches out to me and drags me deep into the center of spiraling, delicious
sensations. They overcome me, he overcomes me, and my sex clenches so
intensely that I jerk and my knees go weak.
Liam’s arms wrap around my lower body, holding me up and his
tongue laps at me, fast and hard and then slowing as I soften, as my
muscles ease, and I relax. He tears my jacket from my wrists and I wrap my
arms around him for stability and bury my face in his neck. He drags me
with him, until he is sitting against the door and I am straddling him and all I
can think is how embarrassed I am. How long did I last? One minute? Two?
Please let it have been at least five.
“Amy,” he murmurs. “Look at me.”
“No. I can’t.”
“You can,” he says firmly, and his hand goes to my head, tilting my
face to his. “Don’t be embarrassed.”
Now I’m embarrassed that I am embarrassed. “I can’t help it.” My
voice shakes. I’m not sure it’s just my voice. I have never felt this exposed.
Not since…not ever. Not like this. “I was—”
“Beautiful.” His hand moves to cup my cheek. “Absolutely beautiful
and sexy.”
My hand covers his. “No.” I laugh and it’s a choked, horrible sound. “I
was fast. Really embarrassingly fast.”
“I like that I can turn you on that easily.” He caresses my shirt and bra
from my shoulders, and I let them fall away and my mind is mush all over
again. And when he leans in and tenderly kisses my shoulder, his hot stare
raking over my naked torso, my breasts are instantly heavy, and my nipples
tight. “And I like,” he adds, his eyes lifting to mine, “that you like it when I
look at you.” His finger lightly teases my nipple and a shiver of pure
pleasure slides down my back. His lips curve. “And that you react when I
touch you.”
A pinching sensation begins to form in my chest. I’m overwhelmed
emotionally when I should simply be aroused and nothing more. I barely
know this man and somehow he digs deep into my soul and speaks to me
like no one else ever has. It’s today’s events. It’s not him.
I cut my gaze, trying to pull myself together, but he does not allow
me an escape, not one he has not created, or offered in perfect orgasmic
pleasure. His finger slides under my chin, tilts it up, forcing my eyes back to
his. “Don’t hide what you feel.
My lashes flutter and just that quickly he is on his knees, inching my skirt
upward, and there is only the emptiness that is my ache to feel him inside
me. I am in a haze of desire, and my skirt is somehow at my waist, his
tongue tracing the top of one of my thigh-highs, then traveling up and
down my leg. The urge to tug my hands free, to tunnel my finger into his
thick, dark hair, and force his mouth where I want it, is almost too much to
bear.
“I want to touch you,” I pant. “I need to touch you.”
His eyes meet mine, and they are hot with desire and dark with
command. “Not yet,” he orders, and with no warning, he wraps his fingers
around the thin strips at my hips and tugs my panties down to my feet. I
step out of them. Or I think I do. I don’t know. Everything is a haze of
nerves, and desire, and need. But they are gone and Liam’s fingers are
exploring the slick, wet center of my body, and his mouth is on my upper
thigh, teasing me with where it might go, where it hasn’t gone and I soon
hope it will be.
He slips two fingers deep inside me and there are panting, moaning
sounds filling the air that I barely recognize as coming from me, and I try to
control myself, but I cannot. I’m not sure I’m really trying. I am so wet and
so aroused, I am certain I will come ridiculously quickly. The idea is
embarrassing and I try to will my body to calm. I try to resist the pleasure
building low in my belly and spiraling into my sex, but it is growing,
consuming me like a black hole where nothing but pleasure exists. It
reaches out to me and drags me deep into the center of spiraling, delicious
sensations. They overcome me, he overcomes me, and my sex clenches so
intensely that I jerk and my knees go weak.
Liam’s arms wrap around my lower body, holding me up and his
tongue laps at me, fast and hard and then slowing as I soften, as my
muscles ease, and I relax. He tears my jacket from my wrists and I wrap my
arms around him for stability and bury my face in his neck. He drags me
with him, until he is sitting against the door and I am straddling him and all I
can think is how embarrassed I am. How long did I last? One minute? Two?
Please let it have been at least five.
“Amy,” he murmurs. “Look at me.”
“No. I can’t.”
“You can,” he says firmly, and his hand goes to my head, tilting my
face to his. “Don’t be embarrassed.”
Now I’m embarrassed that I am embarrassed. “I can’t help it.” My
voice shakes. I’m not sure it’s just my voice. I have never felt this exposed.
Not since…not ever. Not like this. “I was—”
“Beautiful.” His hand moves to cup my cheek. “Absolutely beautiful
and sexy.”
My hand covers his. “No.” I laugh and it’s a choked, horrible sound. “I
was fast. Really embarrassingly fast.”
“I like that I can turn you on that easily.” He caresses my shirt and bra
from my shoulders, and I let them fall away and my mind is mush all over
again. And when he leans in and tenderly kisses my shoulder, his hot stare
raking over my naked torso, my breasts are instantly heavy, and my nipples
tight. “And I like,” he adds, his eyes lifting to mine, “that you like it when I
look at you.” His finger lightly teases my nipple and a shiver of pure
pleasure slides down my back. His lips curve. “And that you react when I
touch you.”
A pinching sensation begins to form in my chest. I’m overwhelmed
emotionally when I should simply be aroused and nothing more. I barely
know this man and somehow he digs deep into my soul and speaks to me
like no one else ever has. It’s today’s events. It’s not him.
I cut my gaze, trying to pull myself together, but he does not allow
me an escape, not one he has not created, or offered in perfect orgasmic
pleasure. His finger slides under my chin, tilts it up, forcing my eyes back to
his. “Don’t hide what you feel.
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