Page 45 of Easy
‘On top sounds good, but you’ll have to fight me for it.’ A glint of something—challenge or excitement—is luminous in the deep blue of his gaze. ‘And I fight dirty.’
My face still in his hand, I turn, pressing my palms against him. But I don’t lean in to kiss him. Instead, I run my hands over the damp fabric of his shirt, feeling the ripple of his abs under the fabric. His nipples tightening under my fingertips, his warm breath caressing my face in a hiss as I graze them with my nails.
Will’s hand moves from my jaw to my neck, wrapping my hair around his hand. With a yank that I feel between my legs, he pulls my head back to devour my lips, my neck, my jaw—nipping and kissing and licking until my legs feel weak and his hand in my hair is most likely the only thing holding me up.
‘I could drink wine from these collarbones.’ His lips press there, his words rough and rasping. ‘I could drink wine from your cunt.’
‘Oh, God.’ My whisper hits the air in a tremulous rush; all thoughts of fighting dissipate as he places his mouth over my dress-covered nipple. ‘I... I... want.’
His mouth pulls away from the, no doubt, very wet patch of fabric, blowing a warm breath across the cooling space. ‘You want to suck my cock?’
God, yes! ‘God, you’re so crass,’ I whisper instead, my pulse beating in places it has no business pounding.
‘And you’re still dressed. Take it the fuck off.’
Without argument, my trembling fingers reach for the slippery white buttons at my chest, loosening them—one, two, three—managing to work them through the tiny holes. Will’s eyes never leave mine as I slip the dress from my shoulders, then reach around to unhook my bra.
The air in the room is cool, the atmosphere surreal. Or at least it would be if he wasn’t looking at me like he was. But I can’t help feeling the kick of desire at our relative states of dress. He’s still fully clothed while I’m naked. What does that say about our dynamic? Only, his eyes haven’t moved from my face—not once. Not to look at my nakedness. Not to leer or appreciate. It’s almost like he’s daring me to make the first move.
And I do. Or I try, my hair still wrapped in his fist. A hold he uses to push me up against the wall.
‘Spread your legs,’ he demands in an echo of his demands in the car. ‘Open your legs and let me see this pretty plum pussy. Open your legs and show me what’s mine.’
I arch into him as he slides his hand there, that first contact a barely there swipe followed by two fingers thrust in deep. I’m up on my toes immediately, my fingers gripping his shoulders as I seek to hang on. Hang onto him, onto this moment. Onto this wave of need.
‘That’s it. Fuck my hand. Ride it.’ Two fingers become three, his thumb swiping moisture against my clit before he starts to apply pressure to it—to play with it. To play with me.
‘I’m going to fuck you so hard, you won’t remember your name.’ His fingers thrust mercilessly, his grip on my hair and my pussy pinning me in place. ‘But I won’t come inside you like you want me to. Like you’ll crave.’
His dirty words and his rough attentions are enough to push me to the very edge. He lowers his mouth once again, his words curling around my ear, bursting like a supernova deep inside.
I see stars... did I black out? Not likely as I can hear my own voice chanting and cursing his name. I sound like a cheap whore as I thrash between the wall and his hand. Never before have I been treated me so roughly, so satisfyingly dirty.
And I love it.
Who’d have thought I’d have this in me?
‘You’ll know when it’s in, sweet plum. Believe me.’
I haven’t the wherewithal to care that he’s heard me.
Will loosens his grip on my hair, and my pussy, and the wet sound of his fingers moving from inside me? I give no fucks.
‘That’s my fingers, my mouth. You know what comes next.’ With a wicked smile, he paints my arousal over my lips. ‘Lick,’ he taunts. ‘See how good you taste.’
‘You think I don’t know what I taste like already?’
His eyes darken delightfully as he lowers his head, whispering, ‘You dirty fucking girl,’ before he follows with his tongue, licking my lips clean.
We stumble through the room and down a hallway, my fingers clawing at the hem of his t-shirt before he whips it over his head.
Lord, the man is beautiful.
He pushes me through an open door into a bedroom decorated in the same tones as the rest of the house. The drapes are partly drawn, this side of the house darker than the other rooms. We’re only inches apart as he slides his hands under my butt, picking me up.
He groans as I wrap my thighs around his waist, my wetness meeting his stomach. Next, he exhales a harshfuckas I flex against him, still drunk from my last climax.
Will lowers me to the bed, getting on one knee between my open legs. Like magnets, my fingers are drawn to the dents in his shoulders and the dips in his forearms. I don’t know what these muscles are called, but I almost wish I’d paid more attention in biology class.
