Page 36 of Off Limits: The Firsts

My hands are in his hair as he teases one breast and then the other, and I’m not sure if I want him to stop and come back to kiss my lips, or if I want him to keep stoking that fire bright.

Emitting the sexiest growl I’ve ever heard, Easton makes the decision for me when he puts his hands on my waist and lifts me like I’m a feather. There’s no hesitancy on my part, only need, when I wrap my legs around his waist, thread my fingers through his hair, and lose myself under the haze of desire his kisses are unleashing on that sensitive spot beneath my jaw.

And then he begins to walk.

His mouth is on my neck. His unshaven jaw tickles my collarbone. The cool air of the room slides over my breasts. His hips rest deliciously between my thighs.

All of those things tempt and taunt me, but it’s when he lays me down on the bed, when I’m so desperate for more from him, that my own control snaps.

We reach for the waist of each other’s jeans at the same time. Without any finesse, we fumble and bump hands, our laughter forcing us to come up for air, making us realize it would be so much quicker if we undress ourselves.

So in a rush of movements we strip and shimmy and step out of our clothes until we are naked, laughing in panting breaths, hungry for more and eager to have it.

But it’s when I look up from where I lie on the bed to where he stands at its edge, my laughter falls off. He’s watching me, wanting me, and everything about him, from his expression to his eyes to his body, is breathtaking. He’s hard lines and tanned skin. He’s confidence with a half-cocked grin, and he’s desire restrained with the tense set of his shoulders. His fingers flick, ready to conquer and claim, and his lips part, ready to lead the assault.

But it’s his eyes that command my attention.

They ask and demand and want as they slowly scrape their way up my legs, pausing at the apex of my thighs before continuing up my abdomen to my breasts. When they finally make their way back to mine, they are darkened by a desire I’m desperate to sink whole-heartedly into.

So many things about him—the look in his eye, the set of his shoulders, his impressive dick standing hard and thick between his muscular thighs, and the sexual tension snapping in the air around us—has me craving more of him and willing to beg for what comes next. The push and the pull. The give and the take. The need and the greed. The wish and the want. The climb and the release.

Lost in the haze of lust and expectation, my mouth waters. My body aches. My fingers beg to run over every dip and dent and curve of his body.

“Easton.” It’s his name on my lips this time. My turn to ask, to demand, to beg.

My knees fall apart in invitation.

His breath hitches.

My body hums, and chills chase over my skin.

He licks his lips. Steps. Stares. Admires.

And then he’s on the bed, crawling over me and dipping down to take my nipple in his mouth again.

“Oh, that feels good,” I murmur as my back arches and offers.

His chuckle vibrates the sensitized flesh. “I’m about to make it feel a whole lot better. Time to fuck your pretty kitty, Kitty.”

I manage to laugh through the sensations his skilled tongue is evoking, but it turns into a gasp of welcome pleasure when his hand slides between by thighs. His fingertips dance over my seam, taunting with a feather-light touch before slowly parting me to brush ever so slightly over my clit. Warmth. Heat. Electricity. The current of desire jolts my system, and my hips buck into his hand and beg for more.

“You like that?”

“God, yes.”

“I don’t think God has anything to do with this, but feel free to call his name.” He chuckles and looks up at me over the rise of my breasts, his eyes sharp with desire and contradicted by a cocky flash of a grin. “’Cause we’re about to get biblical.”

“Oh, please.” I laugh, but it’s lost to him as his lips claim mine and his fingers rub and tease and work my clit into a frenzy of overwhelming sensations. I writhe and lift and tense, wanting to prolong this onslaught of ecstasy and reach my climax all at the same time.

“Greedy girl,” he murmurs, kissing his way down the line of my neck and up to my ear where he nips on my earlobe. “I kind of like that.”

His simple praise and the soft chuckle that follows only adds to the riot of hormones racing to my every nerve as his fingers continue to work me to my brink.

“East . . .” A pant of his name is all I can manage as my hands grip tighter onto his forearms, my body edging that fine line before climax. “East.” Another pant. Another warning that I’m going to come.

My nails score his skin. My body vibrates with tension.

And then nothing.