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“Fuuuck,” he groans. “What have you been hiding under these librarian skirts?”
“Not books,” I say.
His fingertips brush my sensitive clit, sending a jolt of pleasure through me, making me gasp.
A dimple appears on his cheek and I kiss it. It goes away, but then it appears again and I kiss it.
“What are you doing?”
“Being so into you I can barely think,” I say.
He pulls away, panting, eyes wild, beard stubble sparkling. “Oh, yeah?”
Suddenly I feel bare to him. Not just physically, but soul-deep bare. As if his fingers are everywhere inside me. “Yeah.”
He slips rough, thick fingers deeper between the folds of my sex. My head tips backwards onto the hard pillar, eyes drifting closed.
“Oh, yeah,” I say as he slides them against my clit with the perfect motion. He changes his angle, and this new sensation swirls through me, making me senseless and lightheaded.
“Do the nipple pluck thing,” I whisper.
He breathes out a shaky fuuuuck. “You are so…everything.” He does the nipple pluck thing and I cry out. It’s rougher than I expected. Better than I expected.
He exhales a shaky breath and kisses my cheek and then my ear. His teeth graze my earlobe, sending wicked lightning all through me. He plucks my nipple again, softer this time.
It’s like he’s learning me. Exposing my secrets. Stripping me bare for the first time.
His fingers send rippling heat up through my core.
His strokes go long and strong. He slides two fingers in. I suck in a short, sharp breath.
“I gotcha, baby.”
I crash over the edge. White-hot pleasure. Naked and alive.
“I gotcha, baby.” He pins me to a pillar high above the city, raining kisses over my face. I’m lost. I’m found. I clutch his arms, kissing him back.
“Damn,” he says again. As though the whole thing surprised him.
I feel shaky all over. And fresh and new.
I don’t care what’s real or not.
I’m all-in.
I drop to my knees, gazing up at him. I fit my hand over his bulge and give it a small squeeze.
“Jesus.” He tunnels both hands into my hair, half ripping it out of the ponytail holder.
With shaking hands I undo his belt. He takes over, quickly undoing it. “Leave it to the professionals,” he says.
And then he touches my chin. I think he’s about to explode, but he touches my chin. Like he kind of can’t believe I’m in front of him.
I love his eyes on me. I love the sunshine of his gaze. I usually prefer the shadows, but Henry’s breaking all the rules.
I pull him out; he’s big, broad, and club-like, pink at the tip. Soft as silk.
Watching him from underneath my lashes, I give him a lick.
