A Million Kisses in Your Lifetime (Lancaster Prep )(105)

“I like the idea of watching you touch yourself, your hand busy beneath the panties. And I can see. The fabric is sheer.”

Oh. That’s right.

Taking a deep breath, I rest my hand against my stomach, right above the top of my panties. I trace the thin band with my index finger, sliding it back and forth. The way he watches me, the way I’m teasing myself, already has my breathing coming faster. My heart pumping harder.

“Do it, Wren,” he demands, and my fingers slip beneath the thin fabric, sliding through my pubic hair. Going deeper, until I brush my clit.

I hiss in a breath, closing my eyes.

“Look at me,” he says, and I flash my eyes open once more, held captive by him. “Start stroking.”

I do as he says, sliding my fingers up and down, nice and slow, gathering up all the wetness. A whimper leaves me when I flick my clit, and then I’m sliding back down, teasing my entrance, my middle finger pushing inside, just barely.

“Are you fucking yourself with your fingers?” he asks, his voice rough.

“Not really.”

“Do you want to?”

“I’d rather it was your fingers,” I admit, the need to be truthful overwhelming any bit of embarrassment I might feel at making the confession.

My touch feels good, especially with the way he’s watching me.

But it would feel even better if it was his hand between my legs. His fingers stroking me.

“Fuck, you’re hot.” He shakes his head, like he can’t believe it. “I need you to beg.”

I frown. “Beg?”

He nods. “Beg for my fingers, Birdy. Tell me how much you want me.”

“I want you so bad,” I whimper, all the shame I’ve ever experienced when it comes to this boy leaving me so rapidly, I feel weak. “Please, Crew. Touch me.”

He’s on the bed in an instant, his jeans half undone, revealing his navel and that intriguing dark path of hair that disappears into his blue boxer briefs. His erection strains against the cotton as if it’s trying to break free, and unable to help myself, I lean forward and reach out, trailing my fingers down the front of him.

Crew bites back a groan, thrusting his face in mine before he kisses me as if he’s a starving man, and I’m the only one who can ever satisfy him. His tongue thrusts rhythmically against mine, his fingers circling around my wrist and yanking my hand out from under my panties, replacing it with his own.

His touch is rough, making me cry out, but I don’t mind. He searches and thrusts, his thumb pressing against my clit at the same time he slips a finger inside my body. His finger matches the rhythm of his tongue, in and out at a rapid pace, and I cry out against his lips, the orgasm already drawing closer.

“You like that?” he whispers against my lips, and I nod, frantic. “Fuck my hand, Wren. Do it.”

I move my hips, awkward with my movements but eventually getting it. I push forward at the same time he does, wincing at first, until it starts to feel better.

So much better.

“Oh God,” I murmur, my eyes tightly closed as I do exactly as he says. Moving with his hand helplessly. Desperate to get off.

He increases his speed, shoving two fingers inside me, stretching me wider. It hurts, only because it’s so tight, and I pause in my movements, trying to calm my breathing. My racing heart.

“Birdy.” He kisses me, softer this time, his touch turning softer too. He rubs gently against my clit, sliding his fingers back and forth, coating them with my wetness before he pulls his hand out, his fingers suddenly at my mouth. “Taste.”

I part my lips and his fingers are inside my mouth. I lick them, tasting myself, a moan leaving me. I’m throbbing between my legs, so hard it hurts, and he knows it.

I’m sure he does.

“You’d do anything for me, wouldn’t you?”

I nod, not even caring anymore. I just want him. “Yes.”

“I’d do anything for you too,” he continues, his fingers drifting across my belly, making goosebumps rise. “Will you give me this?”

He cups me between my thighs, holding me tight, and I open my eyes, staring up at him, breathless at the darkness I see in his gaze. “Yes.”

“I want to fuck you.”

I nod. “I know.”

“Do you want me to fuck you?”

Another nod. “Yes.” I close my eyes, faintly embarrassed. Even after everything we’ve shared.

“Open your eyes.” I do so, and he continues, “Tell me, Wren. Say you want me to fuck you.”

Pressing my lips together, I swallow hard before I whisper shakily, “I want you to fuck me, Crew.”

He’s pleased by me saying such a thing. It’s written all over his face. In his smile. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

I know he won’t.

“I’m going to make you come.” He kisses me. “Once. Twice. You need to relax.”

His mouth wandering all over my body does wonders for my nerves. The tension racing through me. He kisses me everywhere, removing my bra. Sliding my panties off, careful not to rip them. I melt into the mattress, at the touch of his mouth on my inner thigh. My hip. My belly button.

“You smell so fucking good,” he murmurs against my skin, just before he slides in between my legs and opens his mouth, his breath tickling my most sensitive spot when he asks, “Do you want to come?”