Lick (Stage Dive, #1)(38)

“I did?”

“You did.”

“Thank God for that.”

Fingers stroked over the top of my sex before moving on to my thigh muscles clenched tight together. If I wanted this to go any further I was going to need to open my legs. I knew this. Of course I did. Memories of the pain from last time made me hesitate. My toes were curled and a cramp was threatening to start up in my calf muscle from all of the tensing. Ridiculous. Tommy Byrnes had been a thoughtless prick. David wasn’t like that.

“We can go as slow as you want,” he said, reading me just fine. “Trust me, Ev.”

His warm hand smoothed over my thigh as his tongue travelled the length of my neck. It felt wonderful, but it wasn’t enough.

“I need …” I turned my face to him, searching for his mouth. He fit his lips to mine, making everything right. Kissing David healed every ill. The knot of tension inside me turned into something sweet at the taste of him, the feel of his body against mine. One arm was trapped underneath me but the other I made full use of, touching all of him within reach. Kneading his shoulder and feeling the hard, smooth planes of his back.

When I sucked on his tongue he moaned in the back of his throat and my confidence soared. His hand slipped between my legs. Just the pressure of his palm had me seeing stars. I broke off the kiss, unable to breathe. He touched me gently at first, letting me get used to him. The things his fingers could do.

“Elvis couldn’t be with us today,” he said.

“What?” I asked, mystified.

He stopped and put two fingers into his mouth, wetting them or tasting me I didn’t know. Didn’t matter. What was important was him putting his hand back on me, fast.

“I didn’t want to share this with anyone.” The tip of his finger pushed into me, easing inside just a little. Pulling back before pressing in again. It didn’t have the same thrill attached to it that came with him stroking me but it didn’t hurt. Not yet.

“So, no Elvis. I’ll have to ask the questions,” he said.

I frowned at him, finding it hard to focus on what he was saying. It couldn’t be as important as him touching me. The pursuit of pleasure ruled my mind. Maybe he babbled during foreplay. I didn’t know. If he wanted, I was more than willing to listen to him later.

His gaze lingered on my breasts until finally he dipped his head, taking one into his mouth. My back bowed, pushing his finger further inside. The way his mouth drew on me erased any discomfort. He stroked me between my legs and the pleasure grew. I tingled in the best way possible. When I did this, it was nice. When David did it, it reached the heights of spectacular, stellar. I knew he was crazy good at guitar, but this had to be where his true talent lay. Honestly.

“God, David.” I arched against him when he moved to my other breast. Two fingers worked inside me, a little uncomfortable but nothing I couldn’t handle. Not so long as he kept his mouth on me, lavishing my breasts with attention. His thumb rubbed around a sweet spot and my eyes rolled back into my head. So close. The strength of what was building was staggering. Mind blowing. My body was going to be blown to dust, atoms, when this hit.

If he stopped I’d cry. Cry, and beg. And maybe kill.

Happily, he didn’t stop.

I came groaning, every muscle drawn taut. It was almost too much. Almost. I floated, my body limp, satiated for all time. Or at least until the next time.

When I opened my eyes again, he was there waiting. He ripped open the condom with his teeth and then put it on. I’d barely caught my breath when he rose over me, moved between my legs.

“Good?” he asked, with a smile of satisfaction.

A nod was the best I could do.

He took the bulk of his weight onto his elbows, his body pressing me into the bed. I’d noticed he enjoyed using his size to the advantage of both of us. It worked. Certainly, there was nothing boring or claustrophobic about the position. I don’t know why I’d thought there would be. In the back of Tommy Byrnes parents’ car I’d been cramped and uncomfortable, but this was nothing like that. Lying underneath him, feeling the heat of his skin against mine, was perfect. And there could be no doubting how much he wanted this. I lay there, waiting for him to push into me.

Still waiting.

He brushed his lips against mine. “Do you, Evelyn Jennifer Thomas, agree to stay married to me, David Vincent Ferris?”

Oh, that was the Elvis he’d been talking about. The one who’d married us. Huh. I held back his hair, needing to see his eyes. I should have asked him to tie it back. It made it hard to try and gauge his seriousness.

“You really want to do this now?” I asked, a little thrown. I’d been so busy worrying about the sex I hadn’t seen this coming.

“Absolutely. We’re doing our vows again right now.”

“Yes?” I said.

He cocked his head, narrowing his eyes at me. The look on his face was distinctly pained. “Yes? You’re not sure?”

“No. I mean, yes,” I repeated, more definitely. “Yes. I’m sure. I am.”

“Thank f*ck for that.” His hand rifled under the pillow next to me, returning with the ring of stupendousness sparkling between his fingers. “Hand.”

I held my hand between us and he slid the ring on. My cheeks hurt, I was smiling so hard. “Did you say ‘yes’ too?”