The Intimacy Experiment (The Roommate #2)(77)

“You’re asking if I want you to go down on me?” she said, genuinely surprised. The idea of it, the anticipation of his beard against her tender skin, getting his face all messy . . . oh man. “I definitely want you to go down on me.”

The confirmation seemed to set something loose in him. He brought his hands to the back of her calves, running them slowly up her legs.

“The cat story really did it for ya, huh?” Naomi said, mostly to cover for the fact that she was terribly close to trembling.

“Please shut up,” he told her pleasantly. His fingers met the hem of her skirt, his thumbs flirting with the material.

She hadn’t been ready before, but now she was nothing but shivery desire, aching, arching.

He pushed her skirt up around her waist, leaning forward to kiss her through her underwear.

“Okay, but I think you should acknowledge the tremendous restraint I’m showing,” she said, breath catching, “in not making a pussy joke right now.”

“Noted.” The wet heat of his breath against her core made her groan.

She loved the tension in his back. The reverence of his grip, fingertips pressed to the fullest part of her ass. The messy eagerness of his mouth as he licked her, once, through the damp fabric.

Naomi threaded her fingers through his silky hair, tugging, directing his movement, urging him on. She’d waited so long that everything about this felt like life or death. It wasn’t about wanting him to touch her, to make her come. It was need.

Ethan turned his head against her grip, nipping at the tender skin of her inner thighs. Her golden boy.

She bucked her hips, trying to get his mouth back on her clit. “Just a friendly heads-up that there’s no foreplay needed at this time. Thanks.”

In response, Ethan tightened his grip on her thighs.

“Yeah, well,” he said, voice rough. “I’ve got plans.”

Normally, Naomi would scoff at that. Would take charge. Claim her pleasure. But he’d made her soft, and she found she couldn’t deny him even this. For once, she tried to listen. Tried to stay standing on trembling legs.

“I thought you were gonna be nice to me.” She pouted.

He hooked his thumbs in her underwear and yanked them down to her knees, grinning up at her. “I am.”

The rough scrape of his beard against her bare, wet skin made her gasp as he licked a broad stroke across her slit.

With shaking hands, she reached for the bottom of her top, wrenching the silk open so she could get at her tits, pushing down the cups of her bra. A porcelain button pinged off the hardwood floor.

Ethan groaned, looking up at her with wild need. He sat back on his heels for a moment. “Did you just rip open your own top? How are you so . . .” He closed his eyes. “So . . .”

She loved the crease of his forehead. He looked moments from shattering, and she hadn’t even touched him yet.

“Impatient?” Naomi tugged at her nipples, hissing at the way the ministrations made her clench between her legs.

He laughed against her belly. “That too.”

Naomi dug her nails into his scalp. “Nice,” she reminded him.

He brought his thumb to tease her entrance.

She thrust herself forward, seeking.

Pumping shallowly inside her, just enough to drive her nuts, Ethan traced teasing circles around her clit. “How nice?”

Wrapping one hand around his wrist, she held him steady while she fucked herself on his hand. “Nicer than that.”

He let her ride his fingers for a while, using his mouth on her clit. When she started whimpering, so close she could taste it, he knocked her hand aside and pulled her toward his face, kissing her pussy so well that her thighs shook and her knees locked. She couldn’t believe she’d ever thought he was safe.

Naomi came when he slid two fingers inside her, his thumb whispering across her back entrance, because wow, the shock of that, the barest suggestion that someday, he might want to . . . yeah, she fucking came.

After, he got to his feet, looking positively pleased as punch. She would have smacked him on the arm if her entire body hadn’t been made of Jell-O at the moment. He grabbed a towel from the bathroom, wiping his hands and his chin and his . . . good lord . . . his neck. She was going to ruin this man’s sheets.

“Bedroom?” he offered.

“Too far.” She yanked off her half-removed clothes.

He laughed and followed her lead, stripping in his living room. His hands fell to his belt. It was nice, thick brown leather. She wanted him to wrap it around his fist, just so she could catalog that visual. She also wanted him to slap it against his thigh.

Oh God, now she was looking at his thighs and the muscles there, and where the hell had those come from, anyway? Was he riding horses in his spare time or something?

He’d stripped down to his boxers. Green and white checkers.

She felt like it was her birthday. Like this moment, so bright with promise and possibility, could only come around once a year. Because the other 364 days were meant for longing, for closing her eyes, touching herself, and whining for the way Ethan looked right now. Eager and open and shy. His eyes soft but his cock decidedly not.

It had been a while since she’d seen a dick outside of a professional context, and it was frankly alarming that her mouth filled immediately with saliva.

All of a sudden, Ethan was extremely naked, and honestly, she could come like this. She could come looking at his fucking gorgeous dick and his stupid face that she was so fond of that right now she kind of wanted to punch him in it.