Page 50 of Back for Seconds

She pressed her lips together, nodding.

“We can stop.”

“Not yet.” Her voice was barely audible. “Just…let me…”

I pulled away, placed my hands on her thighs.

June leaned into me, her hair rushing forward in a curtain, her teeth snagging on my bottom lip as she pushed the fabric down.

Her breasts slipped forward, escaping the thin fabric, as she rolled her hips against mine and pleasure burned through me, a deep, slow burn that grew until a groan forced its way from my throat. Impulsively, I reached for her—then hesitated. Maybe she whispered you’re ok or it’s ok or maybe she just let out a sweet hum and arched her back, and I knew it was ok. I gathered her in my hands, pressing my lips to her collar bone.

“You’re a boob guy?” June asked breathlessly, her mouth a balm against my temple.

“I’m a woman guy,” I offered, my voice rough with desire. “A feminist.”

She let out a low chuckle.

I focused all my energy on moving my hands with care over her breasts. Slow, steady, even as her breathing changed against my ear. I didn’t want any moment to feel too soon. I knew she could feel me, hard and throbbing, pressing fiercely into her. I didn’t care if that made me seem desperate, as long as I didn’t act desperate. As long as I didn’t act like I hadn’t had sex in six months.

I didn’t want to ruin anything between us.

I slipped my thumb over her soft pink nipple, a gasp catching in her throat. Her skin slid like silk between my fingers. I took her small noise of pleasure as encouragement and did it again.

Her mouth melted against mine, her body relaxing with a moan as her hips flexed backward and forward. I swore I could feel both of us pulsing in unison. I pressed my other hand into her lower back, encouraging the rhythm. As our bodies picked up speed, our kiss grew sloppy—bigger, hungrier. Her mouth broke away from mine and traveled over the vein pulsing in my neck, ripping a growl from my chest.

“Fuck, June,” I whispered, squeezing my eyes shut, focusing on slowing my breathing. I flexed my hands around the thickest part of her ass, two palmfuls that made my head spin. “Slow, baby. Slow.”

She listened, stilling her hips and leaning backward, away from me. Her eyes were glassy, heavy-lidded. I knew we were both looking at each other, lust drunk.

I hated the space between us. Resented it. Wanted to collapse every inch that separated us. Dissolve every piece of fabric that kept her slick wetness away from me. With my gaze trained upward on her features, I brought my mouth to the tattoo between her breasts, traveling to the base of her throat in a long, delicious stroke. June’s skin tasted as sweet as her voice. Like citrus soaked in honey. Like chocolate dipped black cherries.

I tasted every inch of her that I could. Nibbling as she slowly began drawing circles over me with her hips. I chased her rhythm, willing us both to slow down, taking her nipple into my mouth. Pulling, sucking. She pushed her fingers into my hair and pressed into me with a confident, greedy weight, until suddenly she threw her head back. I pulled away to watch as her mouth fell open in a quiet gasp.

I arched my back, pushing into her.

“Don’t stop,” she whispered into the heavy, electric silence. She blinked her eyes open, looking at me with a foggy, heady look of someone on the edge. “Please.”

She said it over and over, like a prayer, her body working against me until she was trembling, fingers digging into my shoulders. Each time she arched her back, pleasure shot through me. I dragged my mouth up and down the fair column of her neck, leaving behind a trail of pink friction marks and goose bumps.

She made a barely contained noise of pleasure, fingers digging into me harder. She sucked in a breath, then another and another, perfectly still as her thighs trembled, spread wide across my lap. I gripped the width of her hips, pressing deeper and harder. Her hair tickled the back of my hands as her head lulled backward, eyes shut.

Then, her body relaxed forward into me.

Fuck.

Her chest lifted and relaxed with great pulls of air. She tilted her head to the side, eyes still closed, and her hair followed in a sheet of gleaming, dark satin.

My breath came in ragged bursts. My heart hammered in my chest.

I was a gentle tap on the back away from absolutely coming in my pants.

June blinked her eyes open—her soft, unfocused gaze pinning me against the couch. Her mouth like wine-soaked peaches. Her nipples rose-petal pink.

“Joey,” she whispered my name. “What did we just do?”

I gulped. Like a cartoon character. “Junie,” I whispered back, pushing her hair off her forehead, sliding my hands down the dark mass. I twisted the length of her hair around my fist. “I have no fucking idea.”

Her mouth curved into a small smile. “Your turn?”