Sweet Cheeks(71)

His hands slide down my hips and cup my ass while mine move over his shoulders and loop around his neck. And almost as if on cue, he lifts me and I wrap my legs around his waist. Without a word, he starts to walk as we continue this long, drawn-out kiss. I take advantage of my positioning, of how our bodies fit together perfectly, and place kisses down his smooth jawline.

Sensations swamp me. The taste of salt and rain on my tongue. The scent of his cologne in my nose. His strained sigh in my ear. His hands gripping my ass tighter as I cinch my legs around him harder so that with every step down the path that leads to the villa, the bulge of his erection rubs firmly where I want it to.

It feels like it takes forever to get to the door and when we do, Hayes holds tight to me still wrapped around him while he fumbles in his pocket for the room key.

My body vibrates with the anticipation and the fierce desire burning within as I wait. But there is no key, no door unlocked, just a muttered, “I can’t f*cking wait any longer,” before Hayes carries me down the private path that leads to the back of the villa.

My eyes are closed, and my lips are pressed against the base of his neck. I feel him step up some stairs, open the door to the screened-in porch with thick foliage on both sides, and then he leans over and lays me down on the double chaise longue.

And the minute he’s free of carrying my weight, the control is snapped.

Gone.

Hayes grabs me by the ankles and pulls me down the chair so my dress rolls up beneath me, my legs fall off the end, and my torso is no longer sitting at an incline. I yelp out a laugh, loving this side of him. The I want you and have to have you.

And before I can even look up to meet his eyes, he dips down and licks a line over the thin lace of my panties. I cry out at the heady feeling of the muted sensation, already desperate for him to do it again. He moves his hands to my thighs, pushes them farther apart, and then he delivers. His tongue parts me through the fabric, licks down the seam of my sex and then back up to flick over my clit.

My head lolls back. My hands pull at his hair. A moan falls from my lips. And I buck my hips up, giving him access because the texture of the lace combined with the wet heat of his tongue evoke a different type of friction that makes rendering thought near impossible.

“You smell so f*cking good, Say. So good,” he murmurs against me, the heat of his breath a hint of what he’s withholding from me. My body aches all over, burns from his praise, and from his words earlier tonight on the dance floor.

“Hayes.” I tighten my grip in his hair and try to pull his head up to tell him I don’t care about foreplay because our make-out session in the rain was more than enough for me. That and the fact that I just laid my heart on the line to him and he stepped into me instead of turning away.

I want him desperately.

Need him.

In me.

Right now.

Unwilling to give up the control, he shakes his head from my grip and in the action rubs the tip of his nose perfectly against my clit. I cry out as my body ignites.

“Not yet, Saylor. Don’t worry. I’ll f*ck you, good and hard. I promise I’ll earn every damn moan that you make. But not until I lick every damn inch between your thighs. Taste you. Feel you. Own you.” His chuckle is low and rumbles in the space. His grin is full of sexual promise and I squirm beneath the touch of his finger where he’s slowly running it up and down the line of my sex outside the fabric. Just enough to let me sink into the sensation before he pauses, waits for my muscles to relax, for my overstimulated nerves to calm, and then he starts the process all over again. “But since words are cheap, I guess it’s time to prove it with actions. Hold tight, Ships. I’m not holding anything back.”

My smile is quickly replaced by a moan. My declaration that I wouldn’t beg falls to the wayside. My ability to form coherent thoughts obliterated when in a breath of time, Hayes has hooked my panties to the side with one hand and parted me with the fingers of his other. Then there’s his mouth. The heated skill of his tongue as he flicks it over my clit and works me into a frenzy. My hips writhe, my hands fist, and my teeth bite into my bottom lip. And just when my body begins to twist that coil of arousal so tight I know I’m going to reach the point of no return, he eases up and slides his tongue down to my wetness. Dips into me. Taunting. Teasing. Urging me to beg.

I’m so overwhelmed by the onslaught of sensations—the storm whirling around us and the need raging inside me—I don’t think I could form words if I tried.

And between his fingers and tongue, the desire within me grows. My hands grip tighter, my gasps become harsher, and my resolve not to beg vanishes as the orgasm rips through me.

“Hayes. Hayes. Yes. No. Oh God. Stop.” But contrary to my words, I hold his head between my thighs and lose myself in the soft slide of his tongue as he lets me ride out the ferocity of the climax he more than just earned.

I hear his chuckle. Feel its vibration against my hypersensitive nerves and squirm to shift away from him. But his hands on my thighs remain firm when he lifts his face so I can see the grin on his glistening lips.

“I’d like to gloat that you just begged.”

He shifts back to his knees with my legs framing his body. His voice husky with the violent desire reflected in his eyes.

“And I will, Saylor.”

He rips his shirt open causing buttons to pop onto the deck. I admire the sight of his firm biceps and lickable abs as he strips the sodden material from him.