Pen Pal(18)

I shrug my shoulders and let the towel drop to the floor. Then I pull my wet shirt over my head and stand naked from the waist up in front of Aidan.

His gaze drops to my chest. His lips part. His pupils dilate. He remains perfectly still as he gazes at my bare breasts with burning eyes.

I whisper, “I want you to do more than look.”

In a gruff voice, he replies, “Whatever you say, boss,” and grabs me.





11





His mouth is somehow both soft and hard. It becomes evident quickly that this man not only knows how to give an incredible, barely-there butterfly kiss, he also knows how to give a kiss that’s devouring.

And so. Damn. Good.

He holds me tightly in his arms as he takes my mouth and I shiver against him, skin on skin, my pulse flying. I’m not even sure if I’m holding myself up or he is. We kiss passionately until he moans into my mouth and pulls away, panting.

He cups my breasts in his big rough hands and bends down to kiss them.

When his hot mouth closes over a hard nipple, I gasp at the sensation. I gasp again when he sucks. When his teeth scrape over that nipple at the same time he tweaks the other one between two fingers, I moan and sag against him, digging my hands into his hair.

I don’t care if this is crazy. I don’t care if this is wrong. I don’t care about anything right now except losing myself in this beautiful beast for a while.

My fucked up life will be waiting for me right where I left it tomorrow.

Aidan picks me up. I wrap my legs around his waist and lower my head, hungry for his mouth. He gives it to me, thrusting his tongue between my lips and gripping my ass. We kiss as he turns and walks toward the bed and don’t stop kissing as he kneels on the mattress, lowers me down, and drops on top of me.

His weight. God, his weight is amazing. Michael weighed one-sixty-five after a big meal. Aidan must be well over two hundred pounds of pure muscle.

He kisses my jaw, my neck, my chest. My breasts again, too, roughly and greedily. I arch my back and close my eyes, loving how his beard feels against my skin. How hard he’s breathing. How he’s not treating me like I’m a fragile, breakable thing, but as if he thinks I’m strong enough to handle whatever he wants to give me.

And I want him to give me everything.

Like right fucking now.

Squirming underneath him, I say breathlessly, “Take off my jeans. Hurry.”

He lifts his head and gazes at me with hot eyes. “What’s the rush?”

“You just told me I’m the boss. So I’m telling you to hurry.”

Holding my gaze, he lowers his head and traces his tongue round and round my aching nipple. Which I take to mean that him saying I’m the boss was only a figure of speech.

He moves to the other nipple and does the same thing. Braced on his elbows, he lies on top of me between my spread thighs and goes back and forth between my breasts, sucking and licking, until I’m whimpering and begging him not to tease me.

“I’m not teasing you, baby,” he says in a throaty voice. “I’m giving you what you need.”

I’d pass out, but I don’t want to miss anything.

He kisses and licks his way down my stomach to the waistband of my jeans, then slides the tip of his tongue underneath it. When I shudder, groaning, he chuckles.

Then he rips open the button, pulls down the zipper, shoves his face in the opening, and inhales.

He makes a noise deep in his throat. A primal, masculine sound of desire that sends a shiver straight through me. With another fast movement, he yanks my jeans down my hips, exposing me.

He buries his face between my legs and starts licking.

Moaning helplessly, I plunge my hands into his hair and time the movement of my hips to the strokes of his tongue. I can’t open my thighs wider because they’re now restricted by the waistband of my jeans, but it doesn’t matter. Aidan knows exactly what he’s doing. He slides his hands under my ass and lifts my hips, gripping my ass cheeks and French kissing my pussy as I writhe and moan in desperation.

Shuddering, I gasp his name.

“Come on,” he whispers hotly, flicking his tongue back and forth over my throbbing clit. “Let go, baby.”

I’ve never had a man call me that before. Michael didn’t use nicknames, and the boyfriends I had before him didn’t either. I don’t know why I find it so insanely sexy, but I do. I don’t want him to call me Kayla ever again.

He stops licking to suckle on my clit like he’s drawing milk from a nipple. I orgasm in his mouth, mindlessly crying out his name.

He continues sucking until I beg him to stop because it’s too sensitive. Then he stands up, pulls my jeans the rest of the way down my legs, pops open the buttons on his fly, and tears his own jeans off.

I get a split-second view of thigh tattoos and an erection surrounded by dark pubic hair before Aidan is on top of me again, kissing me passionately as he slides the head of his cock up and down between my pussy lips to get it lubricated.

He shoves it inside me with one sudden, forceful thrust.

As I cry out, he growls into my ear, “Tell me if I need to pull out or I’m gonna come inside you.”

Without waiting for an answer, he starts to fuck me deep and hard.

And I love it. God help me, but I do. He said he was going to make love to me, but this is far more animalistic than that. It’s rough and rowdy, and I have to fight back the laugh of euphoria that wants to break from my chest.