Page 25 of Control (Everyday Heroes 3.50)
first time, and the sexual tension between us begins to spark in the static of the air.
“Been better.” I reach out to tuck a loose piece of hair behind her ear.
“Wanna talk about it?”
“Not really,” I murmur as my fingers cup the side of her face, and I run my thumb over the softness of her lips. “You?”
“No.”
Thunder rumbles, but I can still hear the hitch of her breath as I slide my hand from her jaw to her shoulder and trace the dent between her collarbones.
“What are we doing here, Desi?”
The quick dart of her tongue to lick her lips is enough to have my dick begin to stir to life. That’s a lie. It already was stirring, but fuck if I’m not hard now.
“You’re going to kiss me and make me forget my bad dream, and then I’m going to kiss you back to help you forget about yours.”
“Is that so?” I murmur as I step into her so our bodies are barely touching. Just enough to turn me on further and not enough to make me question my next move.
“It is.”
“What if I don’t want you to kiss me?” I ask.
I jolt when her hand runs over my cotton-clad cock. Then I groan when she cups her palm over it and grips ever so lightly. “This tells me you’re lying.”
“You might be right.”
Chapter Ten
Desi
He tastes like beer and sex and urgency.
And he looks like how I feel. Tired. Horny. Lost in a sea of wanting to forget. Desperate for the human connection we can each bring the other.
Those were my first and only thoughts when his lips met mine and began their exquisite assault on my senses.
There was no softness, no tenderness—just stripped-down necessity in that first kiss. And the one that followed after that. And the one that is still ongoing as his hands begin to roam up and down the curves of my body. There is no hesitation as they slide beneath the hem of my tank, igniting my skin with the soft scrape of his fingertips against my lower back.
My hands find him too. Up the ridged plane of his chest. Over the strong muscles in his shoulders. To the back of his neck where I thread my fingers through his hair and urge him closer so I can show him how much I want him.
But nothing our hands can do at this moment rivals the conviction of our kiss. He’s a mixture of raw need and desperate desire, and I try to match him kiss for kiss—lick for lick—nip for nip—each touch feeding our urgency to take more from the other. To demand more from the other.
We are chaos as we bump into the wall at my back. All hands and lips and groans and moans, but when he presses my body there, when his hardened dick taunts me in the most deliciously torturous of ways, I know if he’s not going to speed up the process, I sure as hell am.
My hand is back on his cock. It slips beneath his waistband, down past the bristle of hair, and wraps around the smooth, cool hardness of his dick. His body stiffens and he groans against my lips as my fingers play over his length.
Everything about the moment—the feel of him, the sound of him, the air around us that smells one hundred percent of him—only serves to deepen my desire.
And that means I want him now.
I don’t want to think about the flutter or the swoon or how I’ve sworn off men, because right now my body is on fire for his and has thrown caution—that I know will be back shortly—to the wind.
“Reznor,” I murmur against his lips before I rub my thumb over the crest of his cock. I smear precum around as his hand cups my breast and does the same motion over my nipple. “I want—”
He smothers my words with his lips. He silences my request when he touches his tongue against mine. His hands skim down my torso and cuff mine that are pleasuring him.
“No.”
