Page 22 of Double Standard

“Now that smooth move—the scoop and flip you just did? That’s gotta be from stunt school.” A smile curls her lips.

“Maybe. Or maybe it’s something I improvised because I couldn’t wait another second to get my mouth on you.” I suck on her neck before slowly bringing my lips to her chest. She arches toward me with a moan. My tongue finds her nipple, pink and peaked, and I close my mouth around it, flicking slowly. “I’m going to take my time with you,” I tell her between passes of my tongue.

I bring my hand to her opposite breast. I pinch the nipple between my fingers, and she squirms under my touch. “Is this where you want me?” She nods, like it’s all she can do. Her breast is full, and I palm it, pressing my fingertips into her flesh before dragging them down her side. I stop at the waistband of the shorts, which have slipped to expose an inch of black lace. “Or here?” I run a finger beneath the top seam of her underwear, her warm, bare skin dragging under mine.

“Take them off.” It comes out of her mouth breathy, begging as much as demanding. I feel it behind my ribs, inthe dryness of my mouth, in my cock. She shimmies her hips and hooks a thumb under the elastic to assist.

“Ana.” I press a hand over hers to stop her. “I said I’m taking my time. Let me.”

I sit back on my heels and dig my fingers under both waistbands. Without removing my eyes from hers, I peel away her shorts and underwear and then stand to take off my own.

“How’s this? Better?” I echo her words from earlier, and she replies with a laugh and an eye roll before grabbing my arms and pulling me back down on top of her. My cock twitches with the press of her bare stomach against me.

“The best.”

I sink my mouth onto hers for a moment before kissing her sternum, then bringing my lips back to her nipple. I can’t help my smile at the sound of her sharp intake of breath when I give it a gentle bite.

“Where do you want me to touch you?” I place my fingers at her jaw, and then trail them down her body, pausing in spots where I notice her breath hitches: her throat, her breast, her stomach.

“Levi, please.” She cants her hips toward me.

“Please, what?” I lift my head to meet her gaze.

“You know what.”

“Sweetheart, I need to hear you say it.” I draw my hand down her abdomen until the heavy weight of it lies just above her pubic bone. She moans at the pressure.

“Touch me. I want to feel your fingers inside of me,” she whispers.

Whatever conviction I had to take this slow evaporates. My hand slips down to cup her, to part her with my thumb, to dip inside of her—wet and warm—with one finger and then another. I bring my mouth to hers and feel her stuttering breaths on my lips between kisses.

“God, that feels good,” she says, and I slide the pad of my finger, slick with her, to her clit. I trace circles that echo the rhythm of our mouths, and the way she whimpers when I slip back inside her—I could run a marathon with nothing but her noises for fuel. Soft, pleading noises, until she says my name.

“Levi. I swear, you’re going to make me come.”

A laugh tries to escape my mouth, but she stifles it with another kiss, gripping the hair at the nape of my neck. “That’s the plan, sweetheart. What do you need?” I stroke her, increasing the speed of my fingers to mirror the rate of her breaths.

“Just... like that. Yes. Oh my God, keep doing that.”

I glide wetness from inside her up to where she’s most sensitive, circling, pressing, stroking until I feel her legs begin to tremble beneath me.

“That’s it,” I say, pressed to her mouth. “You’re so good. You’re going to let me see you come, aren’t you? You’re going to be so beautiful when you fall apart.”

She moans against my lips as the release overtakes her,eyes fluttering shut and tiny spasms squeezing my hand at her center.

“Good girl, I’ve got you.” I wrap both arms around her and pull us to our sides, nose-to-nose, heaving breaths echoing between us. I press my palm against her lower back to steady us.

“Levi?” Her eyes pop open and search mine. Vulnerable, sated, beautiful. Something else there too, but I can’t put my finger on it.

“Yeah?” I bring a hand to her face and tuck a strand of hair behind her ear.

“I swear to God, if you don’t have a condom in this place, I’ll never forgive you.” She reaches down, running her fingers along my shaft before giving a firm tug, and then another. Her expression changes with my groan, with the way my eyelids go heavy. One eyebrow lifts in question, her lower lip pulls between her teeth.

“Lucky for both of us, I do.” Somehow I find the strength to hoist myself off the bed. “Don’t move.”

XVI

Ana