The Last Person - Page 10

I feel his lips along my neck curl into a smile. “No.”

“If you finished … you could like it, right? There’s a chance you could change your mind. Right?”

“Um …” he chuckles before opening his mouth and kissing my neck.

My knees go weak when his hot tongue flicks my skin.

“Just …” I reach my hand back and run my fingers through his thick, wavy hair which makes him moan as his kisses intensify. “Just tell me it’s not entirely impossible.”

His fingers slowly unfasten my capris, making it difficult to breathe.

“Eric …” I need his answer, maybe not as much as I need other things … but I still need it nonetheless.

His right hand slides into my panties.

I’m … gone. Just … whatever at this point.

“I’d say …” the pad of his middle finger stops just shy of my clit. “Anything feels possible at this point.”

Forcing his hand out of my pants, I shift toward him. My gaze sticking to his carved chest and abs. He bends to kiss me, but I turn my head. He halts in place and smirks. Taking advantage of his proximity, I run my fingers through his hair and kiss his cheek and stubbly jawline, dragging my lips to his earlobe, eliciting a soft moan from him.

Stepping forward, I push him backward as my teeth tease his ear. We do this dance all the way to his bedroom. When he tries to grab my head and kiss me, I push his hands away and press my mouth to his pec, instead, while my slightly shaky hands fumble the button to his jeans.

“Anna, you’re going to give me that mouth.”

I grin at his words while ghosting my lips across his sternum. As soon as I get the button undone and the zipper pulled down, he clutches the hem of my tee and pulls it over my head. Again, he goes for the kiss. I step back, shaking my head while flashing him a wicked smile and unhooking my bra.

“I’ll give you nothing until I’m ready.” My bra falls to the floor as I make a dramatic display of releasing it from my hand.

His grin says “challenge accepted” two seconds before he shoves me onto the bed. I laugh but it evaporates as he slides off his jeans and briefs in one smooth motion. I don’t even pretend to not stare at his thingy bobbing like a heavy spring while he retrieves a condom from his nightstand and rolls it on.

Taking his time, he removes my sandals and peels off my capris and panties. It’s funny how the first time between two people has this weird moment. The okay-we’re-naked moment. It’s like feeling insecure at the pool, stripping off your cover-up, and running to jump in the water before anyone has time to get a good look at you.

I guess I’m waiting for him to hurry up and get in before exceeding the observational time limit.

Starting at my ankle, he deposits soft kisses up my leg, over my knee, and along my inner thigh. I spread my legs an inch or two. My ragged breaths and a flood of saliva make each swallow sound like a gulp that I’m sure he can hear.

Kiss me there. Kiss me there. KISS ME THERE!

I grab his hair. He chuckles, biting the skin along my hip, completely skipping a certain area.

“Eric …” I try to force him to go in reverse.

“I’ll give you nothing … until I’m ready.”

“Bastard,” I whisper. “Ouch!”

He bites my nipple. “Try again.” His tongue laps over it once before his lips creep up my neck.

“You’re evil.” I narrow my eyes then jerk my head to the side when he goes for my lips again.

His left hand slides between my legs and he buries two fingers inside of me, sending my back arching off the bed on a sharp gasp. Wasting no time, he withdraws his fingers and his cock fills every inch of me.

It’s nice. Really nice. I-can’t-breathe nice.

I lift to meet him, but he angles just enough to keep me from feeling one ounce of friction while he sets a steady pace.

While he sucks my nipples and teases them with his teeth.

While he gives up on trying to kiss me.

While his right hand hooks my leg and lifts it toward my chest, sending him deeper.

Touch me. Touch me lower. Kiss me. Fuck me. Fuck me harder.

I have a clit. How can he ignore it? My clit will not be ignored!

My lips need his lips. My tongue keeps wetting them, readying them.

“Kiss me …”

“I’m good.” His face tenses as he speeds up his pace.

I attempt to wriggle beneath him, to find friction. He’s the worst.

The. Worst.

I’m not suggesting every man I’ve had sex with has been an expert on female anatomy, but they at least attempted (even if it was inaccurate and clumsy) to find that magical little nub.

Tags: Jewel E. Ann Romance
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