A Million Kisses in Your Lifetime (Lancaster Prep )(62)

He kisses me until I can’t think. Tugs my white shirt out of my skirt, his fingers slipping beneath the crisp, wrinkled cotton to rest against my bare waist before they streak across my stomach.

I can’t breathe. Can only clutch his shoulders helplessly, my tongue dancing against his while he slowly but surely undoes me with his fingers. They slide up, skimming the bottom of my bra, and I wish with everything I had that I owned something frilly and pretty. Something that would make his eyes bug out of his head when he first saw it.

But I don’t. The nude-colored bra I’m wearing is plain and simple. No ribbon.

No lace.

“You want me to stop, Birdy?” He pants the words into my skin, my neck. His lips are hot, and so is his tongue, and when he licks me at the spot where my pulse throbs, I shake my head.

No. I don’t want him to stop. Not ever.

His hands land on my waist and he flips me around so my front is pressed into the window. His erection nudges against my butt, and I stare out at the falling snow, my lips parted, my mind racing with thoughts of seeing him naked. He feels huge.

I don’t know what I would do with it if I ever saw it for real.

He slides those expert hands down, until they’re playing with the hem of my skirt. And then they’re beneath it, his fingers on my backside, tracing the edge of my underwear. One, then the other. Back and forth, his fingers featherlight.

A gush of wetness floods my panties and I close my eyes, pressing my cheek to the glass, needing the cold to ease the heat consuming me. “Crew…”

“I should stop?” He removes his hands from my panties, and I whimper. “Your skin is so soft, little bird. It’s hard for me to quit touching you.”

I’m conflicted. I know I should say no. This has already gone way too far. He’s got an erection. He’s touched my bra. His hands were literally just under my skirt. This is everything I promised my father I wouldn’t do until I was with the man I plan on marrying.

But then those hands slip back under my skirt, a single finger sliding beneath my panties, and a moan leaves me, muffled by the window.

“Fuck, you’re so wet.” He dives deeper, his finger sliding into my folds and I arch my hips backward, wanting more. Fighting past the shame that wants to wash over me, my need too great. “Jesus, Wren.”

He teases my entrance, barely pushing forward, and shudders wrack my body. I can’t even imagine what I must look like, my upper body smashed against the window, my butt thrust out, Crew’s finger slowly pushing inside me…

“Oh God,” I choke out.

Crew pauses in his search. “You want me to stop?”

“No!” I might die if he stops now.

He slips his finger farther inside me, and I clench up tight. A ragged groan leaves him. “Relax.”

I try to, but I’m nervous and scared and excited. I’ve never let a boy do this to me before and it feels foreign. Odd. Wonderful. Delicious.

Every single one of those things, all at once.

“Am I hurting you?” he asks.

I shake my head, bracing my hands on the glass once again, and I open my eyes to watch the snow fall as Crew fingers me. He slides his finger in, all the way to the hilt, before dragging it back out, and oh God, the friction. I need more.

A shuddery breath leaves me when he pushes back inside, and I can feel him use his other hand to flip my skirt up, exposing my backside to him.

“You’re fucking killing me, Birdy. So hot,” he murmurs, and I can feel his gaze burning a hole into my skin from the intensity of his stare.

I remain quiet, not sure how to respond. My body starts to move with his finger, my hips rocking, and when he removes his hand from me completely, I want to burst into tears from the loss.

“Turn around,” he says roughly, his hands spinning my hips, so I have no choice but to face him. His mouth is on mine, his kiss so hungry, so intense, all I can do is hang onto him and let him consume me.

His hand slips beneath my skirt. Brushes the front of my panties. I cry out against his lips when he presses his fingers against me, rubbing slowly.

“You want me to stop now?” he asks, and I can hear the triumph in his voice.

He knows he’s got me.

“N-n-no,” I stutter, throwing my head back when he slips his fingers beneath the front of my panties, cupping me fully.

“You like this?”

I nod, unable to speak when he presses his thumb roughly against my clit.

A ringing starts, startling us both, and I crack my eyes open to find Crew already studying me, his brows lowered in displeasure. His fingers are still in my panties, the only sound beyond the ringing phone, our panting breaths mingling.

“That’s not mine,” he tells me, and I realize he’s right.

It’s my phone ringing.

“Ignore it,” he says, leaning in for another kiss, but I press my hand against his chest, stopping him.

“I should see who it is,” I say softly. The ringing stops, and I breathe a sigh of relief. “Or maybe not just yet.”

Crew’s smile is wicked as he leans in for another kiss, his tongue sliding into my mouth at the same time the ringing starts all over again.

He pulls away from me, his hand still remaining in my panties. “Where is it?”

“In my jacket pocket.” I drop my hand into my pocket and pull the phone out to see the word Daddy flash across the screen. I sink my teeth into my lower lip, the guilt coming at me tenfold. “It’s my father.”