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But then his tongue slid across the erect little bud of my nipple, and every inch of my skin caught on fire.
The glide of his hand across my flesh, the way his clothed hips pressed into the center of me, the way his mouth caressed one of my most sensitive parts—he destroyed and rebuilt me, tempted and abated me.
Finally, I worked his jacket low enough that he removed it himself. I pulled the sides of his shirt out from where they’d been tucked into his slacks, forcing them off his shoulders until the fabric pooled in his bent elbows, his tie hanging limply around his neck. Every muscle in his chest flexed as he kept himselfhovering above me, every ripple of his abdominals standing out, and good god, he looked like some kind of Greek statue, like Achilles himself.
His mouth left my nipple despite my little cries of protest. Instead, he kissed lower, his lips trailing across my stomach and kissing the taut skin. His hips pulled back, too far from my reach to be able to do anything more with his slacks, and I whined again in demand of their return—but he was still going lower, lower, lower, dropping to his knees in front of the cabinet beneath the counter, his teeth sinking in gently to the soft flesh of my inner thighs.
From my position, I could only just barely see his eyes over the bump as his mouth found its mark.
“Oh my God.” I struggled to keep my composure and forced my head not to loll backward onto the island as his tongue lashed out at my clit. His finger teased at my entrance, just barely dipping in and pulling back out, the featherlight touches driving me mad—and I could see the little smirk reaching his eyes, could hear his breathy chuckle as I pleaded with him for more.
“Greedy,” he mumbled, the little vibration of the word from his mouth making me see stars. “I haven’t touched you in weeks, love. Forgive me for wanting to savor it in my own time.”
My breath hitched at his words, the world around me narrowing to a single point of pure, unadulterated pleasure as at least two fingers slid inside of me to the hilt, stretching me perfectly.
“You’re lucky that I’m feeling generous today.”
He pulled me an inch closer to the edge of the counter while his movements with his tongue abruptly turned punishing, overwhelming, gluttonous. He sucked at the swelling bud of nerve endings, his teeth dragging along the sides gently, hisfingers curling up inside of me before slipping all the way out and back in again.
I couldn’t think.
Couldn’t breathe.
Couldn’t feel anything but this.
My release hit me sharply and without warning, turning me into a twitching, whimpering, sensitive mess —but he didn’t relent. For once, he dragged me further, not letting up in the slightest, the broadest smirk across his face as I begged for a second’s repose.
“Please, Adrian, it’s too much.”
“You’re clenching,” he laughed, hot breath coating my inner thighs. “Come again, Ava, and I’ll give you a second to breathe.”
“Please,” I cried, but he was right, it was building again, rapidly. I shoved my fingers into his hair, tightened my grip at the root. A third finger slipped into me, a fourth, and oh my God, I was going to die here, right here on my fucking countertop, with a painting of some stupid flowers that I wasn’t even that proud of hanging in my peripheral vision.
“I bet I can break you,” he grinned, his eyes flicking up to mine. “How many times can I make you come before you’re begging me to stop, hmm? Should we find out?”
He was rushing me to another release so quickly I couldn’t keep up. “I hate you,” I said, half-laughed and half-sobbed, gritting my teeth through the sensitivity as I hovered right at the edge of the cliff.
“I love you, too.”
I broke again, just barely processing the words he said as he finally let up enough for me to try and catch my breath. With his fingers still inside of me, lazily drawing in and out, he rose on shaky knees and pressed his lips to mine, the taste of me mixing between us in the haze of the comedown.
My hands wandered down his chest, down to where his hips rested against my thighs. The rigidity against his zipper made me smile —he was rock solid beneath, straining so hard that I could feel the seams pulling beneath my fingertips. There was zero chance he was done with me.
“Unless you want me to fuck here on the counter,” he started, lifting his lips just an inch from mine, “then I suggest you tell me where your bedroom is.”
I gulped and worked at the button of his slacks, his undone belt clanking against my hand. “Through there,” I said hoarsely, nodding to the little hallway that broke off from my living room on the left. “It’s a mess.”
“Don’t give a shit,” he laughed. “I’d take you on a pile of trash right now.”
We were moving again in an instant, my legs locked around him and him taking my weight. I could feel his heartbeat, calm and sure, as I pressed my bare body into his chest. Skin against skin, I played with the hair at the nape of his neck, kissed his hardened jawline.
With expert precision, he dodged the handfuls of clothes I’d left strewn on the ground in my bedroom, not paying a lick of attention to the assortment of empty cups and dirty laundry, not caring at all about my unmade bed or the bundles of papers on one side of it. He set me down gently on the sheets as if I were something fragile, but from the look in his eye and the bulge of his trousers, I knew he’d see me as anything but fragile soon enough.
“On your knees, love, facing away from me,” he ordered, pushing his zipper and slacks down in one movement. He breathed a sigh of relief as his cock finally felt freedom, jutting out toward me with bulging veins and a glistening tip. My mouth watered, but I followed his demands, rolling over onto my front and propping my rear up for him, legs spread just enough togive him access and keep my stomach off the bed. “Good fucking girl.”
Before I could protest, he was stepping around the side of my bed, one hand pulling open the little chest of drawers I used as a nightstand.
“Adrian…”
