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So, I do both, greedily drinking in the planes and slopes of his chest and abs as I pull himcloser.
We’re skin to skin, and I clearly chose right because he’s warm and strong and smells likeheaven.
Wes drags my tank top up and off my arms. Then pulls back to look atme.
“Whoa.” His voice is reverent and a littlestunned.
I have good boobs. I know it. But I’m really grateful for that in this moment. “You’re not missing theponytail?”
“I have other things to distract me.” He lowers himself to me. My superiority slips the second he fills his palms with me, cupping my breasts as if he wants to memorize the shape of them, and it’s gone when his hot tongue licks my nipple, and a jolt of electricity spears through mycore.
He works me over with his hands and his mouth, and I’m happy to lethim.
He lifts his head long enough to shoot me a dirty look before dipping his tongue into my navel, tugging on the waistband of my borrowedboxers.
I push his hands away, and he looks up,questioning.
If he thinks he’s going to take me apart again without letting me at him? He’s sowrong.
I thread my fingers through his hair, pulling his lips back to mine as I reach for the waistband of his pajamapants.
I’ve been feeling him through the fabric, and it’s not enough, not even close. I want to wrap my hand around him. Mylips.
I want Wes Robinson and his cock to independently decide I’m the best thing to ever happen to both ofthem.
We swallow each other’s sounds as I find him. My fingers wrap around his hot, hard length, and he’s smooth and firm and all I can think is how good he’ll feel inside me. How good I want to make himfeel.
His hungry groan mingles with my satisfied gasp as I rub my thumb over the head of his length, twisting away from his mouth. “Condom,” Ipant.
Wes pulls back and looks at me as if I’ve asked him a complicated mathproblem.
Then he expels a stream of curse words that have my brows hitting the ceiling before he vanishes down thehall.
Suddenly I’m wide awake. This is a problem. Like, big-ass, level-four hurricane, Richter-scaleproblem.
My mind spins, and I’m wondering if there’s a twenty-four-hour pharmacy within twoblocks.
Hell. The way I’m craving Wes, I’d go to Brooklyn and back without a secondthought.
“I hope that’s still viable,” I say as he reappears, holding a packet aloft as if he’s Arthur and just pulled a sword from astone.
“Don’t tell me these thingsexpire.”
I realize he’s joking the second he says it, and I’d laugh if he didn’t look so damn hot, shirtless with his pajama pants low on hiships.
“Hey, Wes?” I say when he stops in front of the couch, looking at me through hungry eyes. “I love that you don’t do this all thetime.”
“Doesn’t mean I can’t.” He shifts back ontop.
Excitement races through me, and I swear I’m tingling from my toes to my fingertips as Wes settles between mylegs.
“You ready?” he asks, and I fucking love that hedoes.
I was ready weeksago.
Part of me wants to blame this on the evening or the gummies, but I’d be lying to myself. It’s all Wes. I crave him, want him closer. And I’ve been dying for an excuse to do exactlythat.
I thought I was prepared, but when he brushes against me, then presses into me, an inch at a time, my body freaksout.
