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Then his hands are everywhere, but I want to do that forhim.
I roll us over, and he lets me. His hungry gaze meetsmine.
My fingers find the button on his pants. Then thezipper.
I work the waistband of his boxer briefs down, watching his eyes darken as I expose him and any shred of doubt as to my plan isgone.
He’s hard and swollen, and my throat works oninstinct.
Then I pull back, reaching for mybag.
Impatience clouds the desire on his face. “What are youdoing?”
“You’re the one who’s always in control, Wes. Who’s always deciding on purpose. I want to know what it’slike.
“I want to make you losecontrol.”
I put on lipstick, watching his eyes darken as Ido.
“And I wantevidence.”
I say it like a joke but there’s truth to it. Because I don’t just want to make Wes fall apart, I want him to let me do it. I want him to wantit.
I drop a line of kisses down his abs, satisfied with how the marks look on his skin. I lick the edge of his hard cock, and I’m rewarded with a low groan torn from histhroat.
“Jesus,Rena.”
I want to take him hard and fast, but instead, I go slow. Showing him I want this to last forever. Marking him as if I can claim him asmine.
I use everything I’ve ever learned, about blowjobs and sex and Wes, to tease him and torture him and turn him on until he’s groaning under me. This time it’s his hands fisting in my hair, tugging as he struggles for breath. As every beautiful muscle in his body flexes under mytouch.
It’s my turn to make him come, to watch him fall apart, to make him feel a sliver of what he’s doing tome.
When he warns me he’s close, I don’t slow down and I don’t backoff.
It’s so fucking worthit.
I take every drop of him down my throat while he says my name as if it’s the only word heknows.
Just when I think he’s passed out, Wes flips me over and claims my mouth with a long, searingkiss.
He drops his forehead against mine as he presses inside me on a long deepstroke.
“Ready again?” I pant, though I can feel that heis.
“I’m always ready for you,” he mutters. “It’s all I can do to get through the day without thinking of you like this.” His arms hold him over me as I moan at the feel of him. “Nothing I do feels as good as making youcome.”
I can’t take the words. They’re not filthy, but from his mouth they might as well be because he means everysyllable.
I raise my hips to meet his, wrap my legs around him. It’s no time at all before I feel the waves crash over me, one afteranother.
He’s there a few thrusts later, groaning in myear.
After, we lie on his bed, lookingup.
He shifts to tug my back to his front. I want to squirm against him because it feels so good. Instead I brush my fingers over his hand that’s resting on mystomach.
“For the record,” he murmurs against my ear, “I don’t hit people every day. So if that’s what does it for you, don’t get used toit.”
