Frayed
Page 88
His tongue caresses my earlobe. “Did all of your dreams end in me f**king you?”
“Um . . . hmm,” I answer, shivering when his tongue slides inside my ear.
His breathing accelerates at a rapid speed. “Good, because your dreams are about to come true.”
I fumble with the last few buttons of his shirt, my entire body trembling in anticipation. He looks down at my hands and then rips the rest of his bloodstained shirt off, the remaining buttons flying to the floor. He looks at my pale pink silky top also spotted with blood and with his fingers gripping the V of it, he tears it right down the middle and pushes it off my shoulders to reveal my matching pink bra.
His eyes grow dark with desire and his hair has fallen and lies tousled over his forehead. He has to be the sexiest guy I have ever seen—ever.
The lights are on in the room and although the blinds are pulled down, they aren’t fully shut. I want to say something, but when his hands move around to undo my bra and he places both his palms over my br**sts, the tingle in my skin is all I care about. He feels me for a bit, thumbing my ni**les to draw them into stiff peaks. When his hands drop I immediately feel their loss and want that warmth back. He takes a moment to admire me.
“So f**king sexy,” he murmurs.
His voice makes me shiver again. His head dips and he circles his tongue around my nipple, first one side, then the other. He tugs a little on one and traces circles around the other with his thumb. I press into his mouth, loving the way it feels on my skin.
“Touch me,” I plead, wanting his hands to move a little lower. Needing to feel them there.
“I’m in control here,” he says, letting his mouth drop a little as if teasing me.
I gasp when his lips hit the waistband of my skirt, his fingers gliding up the silk of my hose. In response I thread my fingers through his hair, tugging harder the farther up my thigh his fingers creep. My body hums at his sensual touch and my heartbeat accelerates. He undoes my skirt and as it floats to the floor, one of his hands spans my rear and the other the area between my hipbones. I moan so loudly I almost want to beg him to speed it up, but luckily I don’t have to.
He quickly straightens and grabs my chin with my fingers to bring my eyes to his. “I’ve dreamed about being inside you every night too. My c**k has swollen so big thinking about it I’ve come in my dreams,” he confesses.
My hands fly to his jeans and I unbutton them as fast as I can. My need to feel him is out of control. I slide inside his pants, wrap my fist around him, pumping him up and down.
“Does that feel good?” I purr, getting on my toes to nip at his lip.
“Really, really good. So good,” he hisses.
“In your dreams were you this big?”
“Bigger.”
I squeeze him harder, reaching down to grab even lower.
“Oh, f**k,” he groans, and takes a step back, disengaging from me. Then he reaches his hand inside my hose. “Fuck, you’re not wearing underwear again.”
“I never wear them with hose,” I say.
“Sexy as f**k,” he mutters again. He cups my sex, sliding a finger inside me so fast the pleasure seems more like pain. “S’belle . . . your skin is so soft and you’re so wet. I think you like torturing my cock.”
A wicked smile tilts at my lips as I reach to touch him again, but he doesn’t let me.
“Take your hose off.”
“Take your pants off,” I counter.
He grins at me but doesn’t move.
Okay, so I’ll go first. I slowly slide my hose down and stand naked before him. “Your turn.”
He toes off his boots and pushes his jeans and boxers down at the same time. I stare in awe now that I finally get to admire him in all his glory. I want to reacquaint myself with every part of him. I step forward and run my hands over him, under him, around him.
“Oh, f**k,” he groans again, this time letting his head drop back when my index finger touches that one sensitive spot. His response to my touch only further ignites the sexual energy between us.
“Still want to take it slow?” I taunt.
“You don’t play fair,” he manages through gritted teeth.
I rub my palms back and forth over his penis and stop only to squeeze it tight. Tight enough that I can feel an incredible pulsing. It matches the one between my legs. I do it again and then again. Each squeeze causes his face to bloom in a pleasure he can’t mask.
His hands move quickly to my sex. The sound I make when he plunges a finger inside me is one I’ve never heard and only escalates my urge to have him inside me.
“I think we’re done with the foreplay.” The husky tone of his voice makes a wave of pleasure skip all the way from my head to my toes.
My pulse is racing as we fall to the bed together. He props himself up on an elbow and lets his gaze lazily slide down me, but he stops when he sees the gleaming green shamrock in my belly button. For a moment time stands still. He leans down to softly kiss it and I rest my hands on his head. A spark of uncertainty blossoms between us and I’m almost afraid to look down. When I finally do, I can feel a tear shimmering in my eye and feel another slide down my cheek. He crawls up the bed and with both elbows resting on the mattress he hovers over me and catches my tears with his thumbs.
He swallows hard. “I’m sorry.”
I shake my head. “Don’t be sorry. I’m not sad. What you did was beautiful.”
He kisses my tears one by one and once they’ve all stopped, he finds my mouth. We kiss for a long time. Soft gentle kisses with tender touches. We share a sadness that we both take the time to mourn. His tongue strokes mine, his hands roam my body, and the flame between us reignites. With each touch my body burns hotter for him. When our kisses turn into hard, deep, soul-searching ones, he nudges my legs apart.
“Um . . . hmm,” I answer, shivering when his tongue slides inside my ear.
His breathing accelerates at a rapid speed. “Good, because your dreams are about to come true.”
I fumble with the last few buttons of his shirt, my entire body trembling in anticipation. He looks down at my hands and then rips the rest of his bloodstained shirt off, the remaining buttons flying to the floor. He looks at my pale pink silky top also spotted with blood and with his fingers gripping the V of it, he tears it right down the middle and pushes it off my shoulders to reveal my matching pink bra.
His eyes grow dark with desire and his hair has fallen and lies tousled over his forehead. He has to be the sexiest guy I have ever seen—ever.
The lights are on in the room and although the blinds are pulled down, they aren’t fully shut. I want to say something, but when his hands move around to undo my bra and he places both his palms over my br**sts, the tingle in my skin is all I care about. He feels me for a bit, thumbing my ni**les to draw them into stiff peaks. When his hands drop I immediately feel their loss and want that warmth back. He takes a moment to admire me.
“So f**king sexy,” he murmurs.
His voice makes me shiver again. His head dips and he circles his tongue around my nipple, first one side, then the other. He tugs a little on one and traces circles around the other with his thumb. I press into his mouth, loving the way it feels on my skin.
“Touch me,” I plead, wanting his hands to move a little lower. Needing to feel them there.
“I’m in control here,” he says, letting his mouth drop a little as if teasing me.
I gasp when his lips hit the waistband of my skirt, his fingers gliding up the silk of my hose. In response I thread my fingers through his hair, tugging harder the farther up my thigh his fingers creep. My body hums at his sensual touch and my heartbeat accelerates. He undoes my skirt and as it floats to the floor, one of his hands spans my rear and the other the area between my hipbones. I moan so loudly I almost want to beg him to speed it up, but luckily I don’t have to.
He quickly straightens and grabs my chin with my fingers to bring my eyes to his. “I’ve dreamed about being inside you every night too. My c**k has swollen so big thinking about it I’ve come in my dreams,” he confesses.
My hands fly to his jeans and I unbutton them as fast as I can. My need to feel him is out of control. I slide inside his pants, wrap my fist around him, pumping him up and down.
“Does that feel good?” I purr, getting on my toes to nip at his lip.
“Really, really good. So good,” he hisses.
“In your dreams were you this big?”
“Bigger.”
I squeeze him harder, reaching down to grab even lower.
“Oh, f**k,” he groans, and takes a step back, disengaging from me. Then he reaches his hand inside my hose. “Fuck, you’re not wearing underwear again.”
“I never wear them with hose,” I say.
“Sexy as f**k,” he mutters again. He cups my sex, sliding a finger inside me so fast the pleasure seems more like pain. “S’belle . . . your skin is so soft and you’re so wet. I think you like torturing my cock.”
A wicked smile tilts at my lips as I reach to touch him again, but he doesn’t let me.
“Take your hose off.”
“Take your pants off,” I counter.
He grins at me but doesn’t move.
Okay, so I’ll go first. I slowly slide my hose down and stand naked before him. “Your turn.”
He toes off his boots and pushes his jeans and boxers down at the same time. I stare in awe now that I finally get to admire him in all his glory. I want to reacquaint myself with every part of him. I step forward and run my hands over him, under him, around him.
“Oh, f**k,” he groans again, this time letting his head drop back when my index finger touches that one sensitive spot. His response to my touch only further ignites the sexual energy between us.
“Still want to take it slow?” I taunt.
“You don’t play fair,” he manages through gritted teeth.
I rub my palms back and forth over his penis and stop only to squeeze it tight. Tight enough that I can feel an incredible pulsing. It matches the one between my legs. I do it again and then again. Each squeeze causes his face to bloom in a pleasure he can’t mask.
His hands move quickly to my sex. The sound I make when he plunges a finger inside me is one I’ve never heard and only escalates my urge to have him inside me.
“I think we’re done with the foreplay.” The husky tone of his voice makes a wave of pleasure skip all the way from my head to my toes.
My pulse is racing as we fall to the bed together. He props himself up on an elbow and lets his gaze lazily slide down me, but he stops when he sees the gleaming green shamrock in my belly button. For a moment time stands still. He leans down to softly kiss it and I rest my hands on his head. A spark of uncertainty blossoms between us and I’m almost afraid to look down. When I finally do, I can feel a tear shimmering in my eye and feel another slide down my cheek. He crawls up the bed and with both elbows resting on the mattress he hovers over me and catches my tears with his thumbs.
He swallows hard. “I’m sorry.”
I shake my head. “Don’t be sorry. I’m not sad. What you did was beautiful.”
He kisses my tears one by one and once they’ve all stopped, he finds my mouth. We kiss for a long time. Soft gentle kisses with tender touches. We share a sadness that we both take the time to mourn. His tongue strokes mine, his hands roam my body, and the flame between us reignites. With each touch my body burns hotter for him. When our kisses turn into hard, deep, soul-searching ones, he nudges my legs apart.
