Normally, I liked being with a guy who was willing to take control, who knew exactly what he wanted and how to get it, but I liked this. It was new. It was like our first time ever and that made it better somehow, instead of awkward.
In his haste to get my top off, he ended up ripping my shirt as he tried to pull it over my head.
“Sorry,” he said against my lips.
“No big,” I said. Who cared about the damn shirt? I could just buy another one. I couldn’t buy the way his hands raced over my exposed skin, or how it goose bumped in response. Now he was the one who had me eating out of the palm of his hand.
He pressed his face in between my breasts and breathed me in. Oh God, I was hot already and he’d barely done anything. He slid the straps off my shoulders and kissed my skin through the lace of my bra, sucking and biting here and there. Yup, my skin would bear the marks of his mouth tomorrow. He raised his head and went back to my mouth, his hands going to my nipples, rolling them between his fingers as they ached for more.
His shirt was giving me an issue. Too many damn buttons. I made a sound of frustration and his lips left mine.
“Do you need some help?” His face was a smirk.
“No, I got it. You just have a lot of buttons, and I’m a little distracted, okay? And I’ve been drinking. And I’m not really the kind of girl who has sex with guys she’s just met.” And now I was the girl who babbles during sex. To be honest, I hadn’t been this nervous about sex in a very long time.
“We’ll take it slow. Nice. And. Slow.” He stroked the front of my jeans with every word, and I finally got the last button undone and pushed the shirt off his shoulders. He had one of those white tank tops on underneath. How frustrating. I just wanted him to be shirtless. It took another few seconds for me to get the damn tank top off and then I finally got to really look at him. “Let’s Get It On” started playing in my head. I was kind of a fan of sex to music.
“Enjoying the view?”
“Maybe,” I said, and that was a total lie. His body was even better than I thought it would be, and I wanted to taste and touch every inch of it. He had freckles dusted all across his well-formed chest, and his left nipple had a silver hoop through it. Yet something else that was completely unexpected.
I went for the nipple ring first, sucking on it and pulling it a little with my teeth. I was satisfied when he groaned deep in his throat.
“I knew I got that for a reason. I didn’t know it would take nine years to find out that reason.”
I kissed my way down his chest, and paused where the band of his underwear peeked out of his jeans. Of course, he had a belt on, so I went to work on that, but his hands stopped me.
“Slow. Nice and slow.” He took both of my hands and put them over my head and pressed his now naked chest against mine, and went back to kissing me.
Slow. Okay. I could do slow.
I let myself melt back into the kiss, and it was easy. He was a damn good kisser. Must have had lots of kissing lessons in his youth.
“That’s it,” he said, breaking the kiss once more to reach around my back and undo my bra clasp with one hand before removing it completely. He paused for a moment to stare at me and then he was kissing down my neck and back to my nipples. My hands went into his hair as my back arched, trying to get closer to his sweet mouth.
I bit the corner of my lip to keep from moaning. I tended to be really loud when it came to sex. I’d bought poor Sloane the most expensive noise-cancelling headphones when I’d first started dating Royce, before our sex had gotten so boring I barely made a sound.
He dragged my left nipple through his teeth and I couldn’t help it. At the sound of my moan, he laughed a little and did it again.
“I like that sound,” he said, propping his chin between my breasts and smiling at me. “I think I’d like to hear it all night long. I think I’d like to save it and make it my ringtone.”
“You would not,” I said and he laughed as he kissed his way down my stomach.
“I might,” he said as he paused at the top of my jeans before unbuttoning them and pulling the zipper down a millimeter at a time.
He was killing me. I was already coming undone, and he hadn’t even touched my lower half. This guy was good. Or maybe I was just wound up from not getting any for months.
Or both.
Once he had the zipper undone, he slowly pushed my jeans down my hips, pausing briefly to admire my lace underwear before exposing me completely.
“Lovely,” he said as he pulled my jeans off my legs and kissed his way down my belly again. I was just waiting for him to discover . . .
“You’re pierced?” he breathed.
It had been a spur of the moment thing after I’d broken up with Royce. I hadn’t told anyone, not even Sloane, that I’d done it. I’d thought about getting a VCH genital piercing for years, but Royce had always thought it was gross, and, like an idiot, I’d listened to him.
Lucas paused, studying the diamond barbell that pierced the hood of my clit. I waited for his reaction. This could end the evening right here.