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Wilson whatever-his-last-name-was didn’t simply kiss with his mouth. His fingers around the back of my neck tightened, his other hand came up to cradle my jaw. He held me captive while he plundered. My arms dangled useless at my sides. My legs felt weak. My brain strained to keep up. But my body—the important parts—responded in a way they’d never done before.
My breasts felt heavy. My nipples pebbled. My panties became uncomfortably wet.
Desire ignited.
A rip-your-clothes-off-and-fuck-fast-and-hard need blossomed with every stroke of his tongue.
Nothing about this was okayish.
Suddenly we were moving. In some remote, vague part of my brain I hoped he knew that there was a step down into the sunken couch area just past the bed. The elevated section of the room gave a perfect, unobstructed view of Lake Coeur d’Alene from the bed.
And speaking of the bed…
I felt the edge of the mattress hit the back of my legs but before I could go down, Wilson stopped moving. His hand on my jaw fell away. Moments later I felt the tips of his fingers graze the wet satin of my panties. I was lost in sensation—his tongue stroked mine in time with the lazy caresses between my legs.
More.
I needed more.
So much so my body took what it needed and my hips rocked against his fingers.
Panic rose when Wilson retracted his hand. Relief flooded when I got it back, this time under my panties. Two thick fingers slid inside of me. The pad of his thumb pressing on my clit making tight, fast circles.
Now it was too much.
His kiss, his fingers, his thumb working my clit—all of it so good, I was on sensation overload. My orgasm built and I was nearing detonation when Wilson slowed his thumb.
I groaned my displeasure and I could swear I felt him smile through the kiss.
Bastard.
Never having done it before, acting purely on instinct, wanting more of Wilson—to touch him and drive him as crazy as he was driving me I reached between us and found his belt. It wasn’t a smooth seduction. I fumbled with the buckle and the button of his trousers. There was zero coordination when I yanked his shirt free and unbuttoned it. By the time I got my hands on his chest I was a vibrating mess of anticipation. The feel of his warm skin under my palms spurred me into action.
Hard, warm skin.
Boxed abs.
A sprinkling of hair—just enough to be sexy and manly.
My exploration took my hands lower. I unzipped his pants, shoved them down as far as I could, went back to the waistband of his boxers, then I found treasure. Thick, long, hard treasure I wanted to feel inside me.
I slowly stroked his dick using my thumb, smearing the excitement leaking from the tip around the smooth underside of his engorged head.
Wilson’s dick twitched in my hand, the feel of that more erotic than anything I’d ever felt. I increased my pace but only gave him what he was giving me—not enough to tip over but enough to teeter on the edge.
His hand on the back of my neck slid into my hair. He twisted a hank into his fist and yanked my head back. Suddenly his lips weren’t on mine. My eyes snapped opened and Wilson’s stormy baby blues came into focus and held me captive as he roughly fucked his fingers deeper, giving me back his thumb, sending me spiraling into oblivion.
My breath was trapped in my lungs.
All I could do was feel.
Every part of me was alive.
“Wilson.” His name whooshed out in one choppy plea.
“That’s it, Atlee. Give it, baby.”
My climax was right there.
