Page 595 of Summer Heat
More blushing, and more nodding.
Just like that, I feel something unlock inside me. It’s fucking freeing. Her admission has a humbling, territorial, primal feeling growing inside me and I don’t fight it. No, I revel in it.
And then I start advancing on her.
I see the question in her eyes, and I feel the answer to her question pounding away in my chest.
“W-what’re you doing?” she asks, eyes wide with curiosity.
In a thick, barely recognizable voice, I tell her exactly what I’m doing: “Not waiting.”
14
| SUMMER |
WEDNESDAY
(Time: 2:01 a.m. And I think my clock stopped.)
I swear the old grandfather clock in my living room just stopped.
Like in the movies during those dramatic moments frozen in history.
I watch him get closer and closer. Feel my heart attempt to burst right out of my chest.
“Tell me the truth, sweetheart. Do you want to wait?” he asks, his big, calloused hands holding my face so gently I find myself rubbing my cheek against his palm to take more of him in. “Because if you want to wait, I will. I’ll wait however long you need, baby.”
Well, that just makes my decision that much easier. “I don’t want to wait.” It comes out far bolder than I expected. Go me. Taking charge of my sexuality like a boss, I go up on my tiptoes to touch my lips to his.
The second his lips meet mine, sizzling hot sparks of heat rush through me. My han
ds find their way under his shirt to touch the hard, chiseled planes and edges of his body. As always, his skin is like a furnace. And touching him sends a tingling jolt of awareness straight to my core, lighting up every sexual nerve ending in my body until soon, even the brush of his thumbs over my nipples has me close to orgasm.
“No coming yet,” he says gruffly, somehow knowing my body better than I do. His tongue flicks over the hollow at the base of my throat. “No coming until I taste you first,” he murmurs against my racing heartbeat, now thudding even harder against his lips.
As was the case that morning all those weeks ago, I respond simply with, “Okay.”
He chuckles roughly against my skin. “That fucking word. Do you know how many times I’ve come in my shower replaying you say that word?”
I really hope he’ll tell me.
“Every single morning you’ve barged in, Summer,” he says. “I’ve imagined taking you at least a thousand different ways.” He punctuates the confession with a deep, hot kiss, somehow managing to undo all the buttons on my shirt without me even realizing it. “Usually, we’re in my living room, and you’ve got your hands and tits up against the door you love knocking on so much, one leg hooked over my arm, and me driving into you so fucking deep from behind.”
Good lord, at this rate, I may very well come before he even touches me.
“My favorite fantasy lately,” he continues, his voice a gritty, raspy rumble, “is of you laid out on my countertop taking my cock into your mouth while I fingerfuck a half-dozen or so orgasms out of you.”
His lips crash onto mine then, with an all new heat, a new intensity, that just blazes hotter when he parts my shirt and palms my breasts. Pinching both of my nipples, he groans and pushes his tongue past my lips, making me near mindless and seconds away from coming.
And then he stops.
Leaving my entire body on fire.
In the spirit of taking control of my de-virginizing, I reach over to unbuckle his belt. The jarring clink of the buckle echoes in the quiet room like an opened shackle.
His arm wraps around me like a steel band, stopping me from going any further. “No, baby. I won’t have the strength to stop if you touch me.”
When I frown in disappointment, he makes it up to me by winding a fist in my hair gently, tugging it. Just enough. The perfect amount of strain and tension, pull and pressure to make my pussy throb in time with my speeding heartbeat.
