Page 77 of Puck Me Twice

“Everything I’ve wanted centered around this, around us,” he says. “I’ve been searching for nine years, trying to recreate that same feeling.”

I swallow. “And? How is this measuring up to your fantasy?”

“It’s pretty great,” he says, his eyes on mine.

“Oh? Only pretty great?”

“Well, it could be better.”

He traces a figure eight on the inside of my knee. The feel of his warm skin on mine, even separated by the thin layer of my tights, sends lightning bolts of lust through me.

Chemistry is a powerful drug. I’ve wanted plenty of guys before. I’ve been interested.

But I’ve never had someone gazing back at me like he does, molten honey and desire clearly etched across his features.

I raise my eyebrows. “How could it be better?”

“Well, I’d quite like to bury my face in your cunt,” he says.

A sharp bolt of lust ricochets through me. The sweet, polite contrast of his request and his naughty words are as enticing as he is.

“Is that acceptable to you?” he asks.

I’m unable to do much more than nod, and his half-smirk turns into a full, genuine smile.

Sven sits back on his heels, and to my surprise, he takes my ankle in his hands. With deft, delicate fingers, he unbuckles the thin straps of my heel, pulling the shoe away and running his thumb up the arch of my foot before he turns his attention to the other shoe, doing the same.

My hands shift under my dress, reaching for the waistband of my tights.

Rising above me, Sven scoops me up again and places me at the center of the bed, so my head rests on his pillows. He catches my hand and covers it with his.

Together, we pull down my tights, and as he peels them off my legs, a heady dose of want courses through me. His thumb trails over my center, over my panties. My hips tilt up and a soft whimper bursts from my lips. I need more.

“You’re good?” He checks in, his eyes rising to mine.

Nodding eagerly, I try to spread my legs for him.

But he shakes his head.

Our first time together, I definitely took the lead, so I’m not expecting him to flip me around onto my hands and knees. I arch back against him.

His fingertips sketch the column of my spine, the skin exposed by the dress erupting into goosebumps. My hair tumbles over my shoulder as I look back at him.

“Like what you see?”

His eyes are dark when they meet mine.

“Yes,” he states definitively. His eyes flutter shut and he tightens his hands on my hips. “Yes.”

“I’m yours,” I tell him.

Hiking up the bottom of my dress over my ass, Sven peels my panties down—but only a little bit. The elastic constricting my thighs means I can’t spread my legs as far as I’d like.

Cool air hits my exposed pussy. It does nothing to cool me down.

I look over my shoulder again. He’s staring at me, want plain on his face. His thumb brushes over my center, trailing through the wetness. It’s not enough. I need more.

My heart hammers in my chest. This is more than just sex to him. He has feelings for me, real feelings, and has for some time. How do we do this?