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“Just the perfect weight,” he replies, walking to his bedroom with me glued to him like a koala bear.
I haven’t been to this part of his house before, but I don’t have it in me to pay attention to anything but him and the way he looks at me like I’m a glass of water in a desert.
His hungry eyes show me exactly how much he wants me. His desire feeds my own, and I’m afraid I’ll overdose in lust. Is this a thing, to want someone so much that your body shuts down?
I hope it isn’t because I’m at risk of that happening to me right now. And if it does, I’ll be unbelievably mad for missing what I know is about to happen.
Winter drops me on the bed, my back touching his cloud-like mattress. He lowers his body on top of mine, his lips never more than an inch from my skin.
“Do you have any idea,” he asks, distracting me as his free hand explores my body, “how many times I thought about doing this?”
“Not as many as I did.”
“Oh, Sunshine.” He shakes his head. “Impossible.”
This time, when his mouth claims mine, there’s nothing tender or sweet about it. It’s desperate, passionate, hungry. Our tongues clash in a battle where both of us leave as winners.
Winter’s hands never stop touching me, mapping my body as if it could guide him to a treasure chest.
It dawns on me that not once did Winter ever make me worry about what he thinks of my body. It’s never been a question how much he wants me. Being with him feels so natural, I hadn’t realized it also feels so different from my previous experiences.
As if he can read my mind, he grabs the hem of my top. “This,” he says, pulling at the fabric, “looks great on you, but I much rather see you out of it.” He helps me to sit up so he can take it off, and then he quickly reaches behind me to unclasp my bra. “This too.”
I grab his burgundy Henley. “Only fair this goes too, then.” He doesn’t wait for me to help him. In a smooth move, he yanks it off and throws it somewhere I don’t bother to register.
With a quick push, he sends me falling on my back again, his hands palming my boobs, as his eyes focused on my mouth. I pull my lower lip between my teeth, trying to hold a moan in, but he watches me do it and takes it as a challenge.
The moment he starts teasing my nipples, circling his fingers around it, then pulling on them and twisting, I know I won’t last long, but I do my best as he watches me gingerly, waiting for a moan to escape through my lips.
“Don’t hold back on me,” he presses.
“I’m not,” I lie. “I’m just waiting for it to get good for real.”
His eyes turn the darkest I’ve ever seen. I swear I could get lost inside them, trapped in the depths of its darkness. And I’d love it there. I’d love it so much, if someone handed me a map to find my way out, I’d shred it to pieces and stay right there.
“You’ll regret saying that,” he warns me, sliding off the bed and pulling me towards him. His voice has taken on a sultry, huskier quality, lust dripping from his every word. “I love that you almost never wear jeans.”
“Why?”
“These are so much easier to take off.” He yanks my leggings off me, sending them flying somewhere behind him. He palms my inner thighs, his eyes hungrily zeroing on the place where I need him the most. “Open your legs for me, Sunshine.”
This is the moment I’m most thankful for all the Pilates classes I’ve gone to. Time to show off my flexibility. I do as he asks, opening my legs all the way.
“That’s my girl,” he says, an impressed smirk on his face. “Now keep them that way. Don’t move.”
Easier said than done. The moment he starts trailing kisses up my right thigh, I’m already trying to inch them together, but Winter’s hands keep them down, as he shakes his head at me in mock reprimand.
“You try keeping still when I’m the one doing this to you,” I argue.
If I thought Winter’s eyes were dark before, at the mere suggestion that I might take him in my mouth, they turn pitch black. He doesn’t even respond. Not with words, at least. His answer comes in the form of one swooping pass of his tongue over my pussy.
My back arches off the bed, my body moving without my command, as if his magic tongue had short-circuited my nervous system in one swoop.
“Winter, please,” I moan, suddenly forgetting any other words in English, Portuguese, or any other language.
He uses his fingers to open me up, and his tongue finds the exact spot I need it. He licks and swirls his tongue around as if I’m his favorite flavor of ice cream. A profound need to feel him, to have him closer, to be connected to him suddenly washes over me.
“Win—” The word dies in my mouth when he sucks on my clit, sending my hips bucking toward his face. “Oh God.”
