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“Merrick,” I whispered. “What is it?”
His hand closed in my hair, pulling my head back. There was unreadable emotion surging in his eyes.
“You’re so fucking perfect,” he breathed.
I chewed my lip. “Would you like to take my clothes off?”
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
MERRICK
I had my hands under her shirt before she could finish her sentence. Peeling it from her, freeing her breasts. Perfect breasts that needed to be in my mouth. In my hands, in my face, on my dick.
Everywhere and anywhere I could get them.
Her breasts were breathtaking, perfect in every way. Maybe a C cup, it was hard to tell. Teardrop shaped with pale veins like a patchwork over her skin. Small, light brown nipples that hardened to peaks under my gaze.
Mind blank, I put one in my mouth and swirled my tongue over it, making her gasp. My teeth grazed the tip and her spine arced. Her head fell back and that beautiful waterfall of dark hair fell in a tangle down her back.
“Merrick,” she moaned.
My tongue curled on her nipple and flicked gently. Her hips worked, her sex damp through her cotton panties.
Fuck me, I needed to see her pussy. The last month had been torture and I finally had her in my bed. I couldn’t wait any longer.
She yelped as I flipped her onto her back. A little tremor moved down her stomach. I slid my fingers along the underside of her thighs and up beneath her panties and tugged them down.
“Spread your legs for me, cariad,” I said.
“Merrick.” Her dark eyes flicked to mine.
I kissed the underside of her knee, licking her soft skin. Biting the inside of her thigh and kissing up to the bare mound of her sex. I could see the little line of her pussy, but not what was between it. Not what I really needed to see.
“Are you comfortable?” I asked, forcing myself to hold back.
She swallowed. “I’m just nervous.”
“Why?”
She chewed her mouth, eyes big. Her upper body was propped up on her elbows as she looked down at me.
“What if you don’t like it?” she whispered.
I brushed my jaw over her knee, stubble rasping. “There is no world in which I won’t be completely infatuated with what’s between your legs.”
I applied light pressure to the inside of her knee, but she resisted.
“There’s something else.”
Pausing, I met her gaze. There was a flush on her cheeks and she was chewing hard on her mouth.
“I don’t orgasm very well,” she admitted. “Like, it’s hard to get there.”
How would she even know? A vibrator was purely mechanics. It wasn’t the slow build of arousal, the teasing, the soft touches. The hours spent on making her thighs slick with desire before I ever touched her clit.
The going to the edge again and again until there was no choice but to fall.
And fall again and again. Until we lifted our heads and realized the sun had already risen.
