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I don’t want tenderness. I refuse to be comforted. He’s not listening to me!
My body takes over before my mouth can express anything. Rudely swiping his hand away, I launch myself over the middle console and wrap my arms around his neck. My intention is to kiss him, but I miss. My mouth lands on his jaw because he’s turned away.
Humiliation clouds my vision. I cannot believe how terribly this conversation is going. Tears threaten to fall.
Before I can turn away, Bryce’s strong arms lift me. Like I weigh nothing, he slips me over his lap so he’s supporting my back.
“I’d hold you like this, Ana,” he says huskily.
I’m cradled like a bride carried over a threshold, my body pressed against Bryce’s sculpted chest. The arm supporting my upper back tightens. The fingers of his free hand roam my face, grazing a brow, brushing a cheekbone, grazing my lower lip.
“Want me to keep going?” he rasps.
“Yes,” I say breathlessly. My touch explores the terrain of his hard chest, greedily navigating his body.
The hand on my back massages lightly and I moan at how good it feels. There’s heat coursing through me, concentrating at my center so forcefully, I press my thighs together to relieve the pressure.
“Now you can kiss me,” he says. The corner of his lips tilts upward with the hint of a smile.
“So you can turn away again?” I say resentfully. “You really are full of talk.”
“What makes you think being intimate isn’t also about talking?” he asks while rolling our foreheads together. “You feel so good, Ana. Press those soft lips against mine. Drive me even crazier.”
Oxygen no longer fuels my body, if my lightheadedness is any indication. The hand on my nape moves to the roots of my hair and pulls slightly. It is a wordless prompt to do what I’m told.
I lean over and rub our lips together. Multiple sensations overwhelm me. He smells amazing: a mix of my chocolate cupcakes and an herbal aftershave. The lips that were smiling are slightly parted. They are pillow soft at first and then stiffer, as if allowing himself to be kissed isn’t a passive act at all. His entire body is rigid and controlled. I want to unleash that control to discover what it’s holding back.
My tongue lightly grazes the seam of his parted lips. A sound as primal as a hungry animal’s rumbles between us. It’s coming from the center of his chest.
Bryce’s grip tilts my head as he pulls away slightly, our mouths brushing while he speaks. “Your kiss is heaven, Ana. But you need more, don’t you? Need me to show you what that pretty tongue of yours can do.”
I’m so aroused, my ears buzz and my body shakes. “Show me.”
Bryce MacElroy shows me.
All the noise in my head quiets. All the doubts about my intentions, and the guilt that percolates my lust, and the ten thousand thoughts about how wrong it is to kiss Ana—they all shut off.
What’s left is the feel of her body against mine, her hair in my grip, our lips finding the pleasure I always knew would ruin me for anyone else.
She tastes amazing, sweet and honeyed. There’s something else too. An essence uniquely hers. I can’t get enough. I sweep into the depths of her silky mouth, and she matches my strokes, our tongues entangled in a perfect dance. It’s chaos and harmony combined.
She’s wiggling in my arms, rubbing her hip against my hard cock. Although her fingers are delicate and clumsy, they aren’t hesitant. I feel her nails dig into my scalp.
Everything I thought I knew about Ana as a girl is blown to nothing. Right now, she feels like a woman. Like the only one in the world. It’s a fucking dangerous thought because she’s not a woman, is she? She’s a teenager.
How can a kiss that brings me this close to heaven make me feel like I’m going to hell? It isn’t just her age and inexperience that feeds my guilt. The memory of her hands tied behind her back and her head bobbing makes me cling to her more than I should. Fuck, I need to stop. It’s mind-boggling how much I want to do to her.
The teasing graze of her hips isn’t enough. I want her to straddle my lap and press that wet cradle against the ridge straining my jeans. Her nipples need to be between my fingers so I can rub them and make her moan. The pulse of her neck is mine when I bite and lick and suck it into submission.
“Oh my god, Bryce. That’s… that’s…” Her voice awakens me to the moment.
Lost in my thoughts of more, more, more, I didn’t realize how far we had gone.
I’ve manipulated her position so she’s straddling me, long thighs strained by how wide I’m pushing them open. I’m sucking her neck while rubbing my engorged shaft against her with swirling hips. One of my hands is keeping her body pressed to me while the other has crept under her sweater, a thumb rubbing tight circles over her pert nipple.
“Stop. We need to stop,” I groan.
“No. Please don’t stop. Bryce, please.” A sharp pang twists in my gut at the sound of her desperation.
