hands. I wanted his skin under me. I wanted to feel it heat, degree by degree. They curled into his shirt instead. Handfuls of soft, worn cotton, threatening to tear at the slightest provocation.
A brush of a finger on the skin of my lower back, bared where my tank rode up. I shivered. He did it again. A third pass. On the fourth, his hand snuck up under the fabric, fingers flexing as I sucked on his tongue.
Now he broke the kiss. Now he led me down the hall, walking backward, his eyes never leaving my face, his hands roaming between my waist and my hips and my ass. The dying light of day didn’t stretch into the room, blocked by the blinds. The last time I was here, we’d left the light off. Found each other by groping around, following dips and bends and moans.
Not tonight.
Trevor let go long enough to turn on the lamp sitting on his bedside table. “I remember something about a tattoo on your back.” He grabbed the back of his shirt and pulled it over his head. My hands itched to touch him. Trace the lines of his abs, pinch his nipples between my fingers, find the soft spots that collected the scent of him and hoarded it.
He caught my hands before they connected with his chest. “Show me,” he whispered.
I tried not to shake as I grasped the hem of my tank and drew it up and off, twisting my arms behind my back and flicking open the hooks of my bra. A few steps skipped in the seduction chain. His mouth hadn’t explored my neck. My ears, my jaw, I hadn’t felt the rasp of his stubble under my lips. More than a few. A canyon, almost, of missed steps and pieces of information. Trevor moved with the surety of someone who knew me better than myself, who would coax the fears and secrets from me little by little. It scared the shit out of me.
But I let him turn me around. Let him run a single finger down the length of my spine, follow the curve of first one wing, then the other.
Massive black wings, feathers rustled in preparation to close up tight, covered my back. It had taken quite a bit of time and money to do, the shading intricate. The rounded tops took up most of my upper back, curving into a double tipped point sitting on either side of the base of my spine.
Shock bolted through me as he brushed the end of my ponytail aside, his teeth closing over the nape of my neck, teeth scraping along skin, his hands sliding up to cup my breasts. Whatever steps we’d skipped in the seduction dance were being made up for now, as this quiet, unassuming man set out to devastate me, his hands molding my breasts, tongue slicking a line of wet heat along my throat, nipples catching between his fingers. And as he tugged and pulled and pinched, I arched into the touch, pushing my ass into his groin. The thick ridge of his cock, straining against his jeans, brought on a fresh rush of wetness. If I didn’t get out of the rest of my clothes soon, my panties would be ruined.
“Fuckin’ hot,” he growled, voice rough with desire. He found the button of my jeans and flicked it open, deft fingers slipping under the waistband of my panties and into the soaking heat between my legs. Rub. Rub. Rub. He withdrew his fingers, tugging his hand free when I clutched at his wrist. “Take your pants off for me, darlin’.”
I pushed the denim down my legs, my underwear following close behind. I turned around. He had a twisted sort of smile on his face, and I fought the urge to cover myself. “You, too,” I croaked. I wasn’t going to be the only naked one here.
His belt came undone quickly enough, even as my fingers grew fat and clumsy. I fumbled with the fly of his jeans, managing to get the zipper down. He’d neglected to put on boxers. Or underwear of any kind. Nothing but his naked cock, hot against the backs of my fingers.
He hissed. Reaching
A brush of a finger on the skin of my lower back, bared where my tank rode up. I shivered. He did it again. A third pass. On the fourth, his hand snuck up under the fabric, fingers flexing as I sucked on his tongue.
Now he broke the kiss. Now he led me down the hall, walking backward, his eyes never leaving my face, his hands roaming between my waist and my hips and my ass. The dying light of day didn’t stretch into the room, blocked by the blinds. The last time I was here, we’d left the light off. Found each other by groping around, following dips and bends and moans.
Not tonight.
Trevor let go long enough to turn on the lamp sitting on his bedside table. “I remember something about a tattoo on your back.” He grabbed the back of his shirt and pulled it over his head. My hands itched to touch him. Trace the lines of his abs, pinch his nipples between my fingers, find the soft spots that collected the scent of him and hoarded it.
He caught my hands before they connected with his chest. “Show me,” he whispered.
I tried not to shake as I grasped the hem of my tank and drew it up and off, twisting my arms behind my back and flicking open the hooks of my bra. A few steps skipped in the seduction chain. His mouth hadn’t explored my neck. My ears, my jaw, I hadn’t felt the rasp of his stubble under my lips. More than a few. A canyon, almost, of missed steps and pieces of information. Trevor moved with the surety of someone who knew me better than myself, who would coax the fears and secrets from me little by little. It scared the shit out of me.
But I let him turn me around. Let him run a single finger down the length of my spine, follow the curve of first one wing, then the other.
Massive black wings, feathers rustled in preparation to close up tight, covered my back. It had taken quite a bit of time and money to do, the shading intricate. The rounded tops took up most of my upper back, curving into a double tipped point sitting on either side of the base of my spine.
Shock bolted through me as he brushed the end of my ponytail aside, his teeth closing over the nape of my neck, teeth scraping along skin, his hands sliding up to cup my breasts. Whatever steps we’d skipped in the seduction dance were being made up for now, as this quiet, unassuming man set out to devastate me, his hands molding my breasts, tongue slicking a line of wet heat along my throat, nipples catching between his fingers. And as he tugged and pulled and pinched, I arched into the touch, pushing my ass into his groin. The thick ridge of his cock, straining against his jeans, brought on a fresh rush of wetness. If I didn’t get out of the rest of my clothes soon, my panties would be ruined.
“Fuckin’ hot,” he growled, voice rough with desire. He found the button of my jeans and flicked it open, deft fingers slipping under the waistband of my panties and into the soaking heat between my legs. Rub. Rub. Rub. He withdrew his fingers, tugging his hand free when I clutched at his wrist. “Take your pants off for me, darlin’.”
I pushed the denim down my legs, my underwear following close behind. I turned around. He had a twisted sort of smile on his face, and I fought the urge to cover myself. “You, too,” I croaked. I wasn’t going to be the only naked one here.
His belt came undone quickly enough, even as my fingers grew fat and clumsy. I fumbled with the fly of his jeans, managing to get the zipper down. He’d neglected to put on boxers. Or underwear of any kind. Nothing but his naked cock, hot against the backs of my fingers.
He hissed. Reaching
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