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‘I’ve wanted it for longer,’ I admit, though truthfully I can’t pinpoint the exact moment I started aching for him like this.
‘I let you think you’re right about a lot of things, Ava Monroe,’ the nip of his teeth against my skin sends a current through me, ‘but I’m willing to fight you on this one.’
My hands run along his shoulders and down his chest to the hem of the stupid dinosaur top. ‘As hot as this is…’ He pulls it over his head in one smooth motion and I briefly wonder if other people are as turned on by mundane things like that as I am, or if I’m just preternaturally horny. ‘Why do you ever wear a shirt?’ I ask into his mouth, grazing his torso with my fingers and leaving a goosebump trail in my wake.
‘Why doyouever wear a shirt?’ He tugs mine off in another movement that, yes, also gets me going, and dips his lips to where my neck meets my shoulders as he mutters, ‘It’s sickening.’
‘I can make it worse,’ I say. Maybe I can convince him to speed things up. I unhook my bra, and when he looks at me, lids heavy, pupils blown out, I think I might finally have the upper hand. I take the moment of distraction to press against him, and he lets out a groan as our chests touch.
We must be part of the same circuit, because electricity conducts through every point our skin connects, and any time we pull apart the energy crackles, desperate for somewhere to go.
‘You’re going to be the death of me,’ he rasps, long fingers skimming my sides. All the usual warmth of his voice has burnt away, leaving nothing but texture in its husk.
‘I know.’ As gentle as he’s trying to be, one part of his body spoils the game. I run my hands up his hips, then along hiswaistband. ‘Did you wear these on purpose?’
‘They’re no grey sweatpants,’ he manages, mostly succeeding at maintaining eye contact while my fingers find the taut skin of his stomach, muscles flexing against my touch.
‘And yet, you’re still getting slutty.’
He laughs despite himself, and I watch his face change as one of my hands moves lower, as I apply the softest pressure over the fabric. His attempts at staying composed are admirable, but when I take hold of him through his trousers and begin to move my hand slowly, purposefully, his eyes blaze and his jaw tightens.
He grabs my wrist just as he lets out a quietfuck. The kitchen counter presses into my lower back as he leans in to kiss me again, and more want gathers between my legs every second.
‘Take these off,’ I say, my hands making their way back to his waistband.
He ignores my request and moves his lips up my throat, lapse in composure all but forgotten, and his ease sends me reeling. I’ve never been willing to get on my knees and beg for a man before, but at this point, my morals are out the window.
‘Always so bossy,’ he replies, punctuating each word with a kiss.
I let my fingers tangle in his hair. ‘I like to be in control.’
‘I know you do. But can I tell you a secret?’ He takes my chin in his hand, angling my ear to his mouth, and whispers, ‘So do I.’
The sound travels down my entire body, and I can barely think straight when he finds a new target. Two new targets, in fact. I squirm as his tongue drags, as his lips close over me, and it takes everything in me to force the next words out. ‘I have a question.’
‘I’m listening,’ he says, although the way he’s using his mouth and hands feels like something that would require a lot ofconcentration. At least, it’s definitely taking me a lot of concentration to talk through it.
‘What do you call your penis?’
‘Are you asking if I’ve given it a nickname?’ To his credit, he doesn’t stop what he’s doing, and his words buzz against the skin of my chest.
My hands run along his neck and shoulders, so sharp from the endless hours he spends in the pool. ‘I mean, how do you refer to it?’
‘Why have you chosen,’ he grazes my nipple with his teeth and it takes everything in me to keep from whimpering, ‘this moment in time to ask?’
‘The wrong answer might make me want to stop.’
He pulls back, and the quirk of his utterly self-confident smirk tells me he knows there’s nothing on this planet that would make me want to stop right now. Then he kisses my forehead and sighs, and the sound is half affectionate, half long-suffering. ‘My dick?’ He catches the relief on my face. ‘That’s the right answer?’
‘Correct. Not cock. Never cock.’ I kiss him, satisfied with his response, and the subject in question presses between my legs with every movement.
‘Of course not.’ His teeth pull at my bottom lip. ‘On a completely unrelated note, your dirty talk needs some work.’
‘You don’t need me to talk dirty.’
‘No,’ he says into the space between our mouths. ‘I don’t. But you’re a strange woman sometimes, I hope you know that.’
Not strange enough to scare him away though, I notice, because it’s then that he discovers a sense of urgency. Breaths come faster, tongues push deeper, hands grip harder, and the force of all of it pushes me backwardsout of the kitchen.
