Mister O(38)

I let go of her hand and turn her face to me. My eyes hook into hers, so open, so vulnerable, so damn ready. I run my thumb along her cheek, and she shivers. Her lips part, and I want to crush her mouth to mine this second, but I want to draw out the anticipation even more. Because in her eyes I see so much want, so much desire, so much of everything I’ve craved from this girl, everything I’ve seen flashes of in the last few weeks. I want her to feel all of it. To experience every second of this moment before I kiss her.

But I can’t wait any longer.

I press my lips to hers, and the temperature in me soars. I kiss her soft and tender as I touch her face, my fingers exploring her. It’s such a rush to kiss her in private with no one watching, to have her permission behind closed doors. It’s a privilege to know this part of her, this side she so rarely shows. The side of her where she lets me in, where she lets go.

We fit so extraordinarily well, our lips eager and greedy. She’s so soft and so hungry at the same time. Soon, this pace isn’t enough, and I slide my tongue between her lips. She opens for me, and it’s electric. Her tongue meeting mine. Our breath mingling. We both moan at the same instant, because this is so f*cking intense. So damn good. I kiss her harder, deeper, wetter. I suck that sexy bottom lip of hers between mine, and her hands shoot up and thread through my hair. She’s not a hot mess at all. She’s just hot and fevered, bursting with need. She’s rough, too, as she curls her fingers around the back of my head and clutches me closer, like she can’t get enough of kissing me.

I can’t get enough of her, either.

Kissing has never been like this. It’s never been this good, this intense. I’m drunk on her, intoxicated on her taste, her tongue, her mouth, her sweetness.

Harper f*cking loves being kissed. And she’s right. She does melt. She melts into me, and that’s where I want her, so far gone. Her warm, pliant body is like water in my arms, moving with me, gliding against my chest, pressing against every inch of my hard body. I can only imagine what it will be like to have my lips all over her, to explore every inch of her, to drive her wild with my tongue.

She moans, and I swallow that sound. She wriggles even closer, her breasts pushing against my chest, and her hands play with the hair on the back of my neck. At one point she kisses me so hard, she pushes my glasses against my nose.

“Ow,” I say softly, breaking the kiss.

“Sorry,” she says.

I separate from her, set my glasses on the nightstand, and return my attentions to Harper, running my fingers down her arms, making her shiver.

“I hardly ever see you without your glasses,” she says softly as she studies me.

“Do I look like a different guy?”

She shakes her head, then takes my face in her hands, running her fingers over my beard. “No. You look like you, and you look so good. And I love kissing you.” Her voice is stripped bare and full of a beautiful lust that heats my skin all over, that burns in my bones.

Her lips fuse to mine and that frenzied pace returns. This kiss ignites, picking up speed, racing to a whole other level. She makes the sexiest sounds as she moans and murmurs, completely consumed with the way we kiss. Her noises make me want her even more, and I didn’t think it was possible to crave a person this much.

But I do. I just f*cking do.

Her fingers brush across my stubble as we devour each other. I bring my hands to her hips, shifting her so she’s on me, straddling me. I’m so lit up with her. I can feel her everywhere, and I want to do everything with her.

I’m pretty sure she wants the same because she pushes against my hard-on, grinding into me through all these goddamn clothes we’re both wearing. Too many stupid layers. I don’t know where we’re going tonight, how far or how fast, but I can’t even think. I want to be in the moment with her. Every moment, including this one, where my hands find their way to the hem of her dress, and I slide them under the fabric.

I break the kiss. “Stockings,” I say, like a man hypnotized.

“You like stockings.”

“I do, and you’re killing me.” My fingers travel up the back of her legs, and she rocks against me.

I grow even harder as she thrusts. Then harder still as I reach the top of the stockings. They’re thigh-highs, and I want to look at them, gawk at them, stare at them. But I’m not moving her off me. No chance of that. Not when she breathes this rapidly, each one coming faster than the next. Not as she grinds against my dick. And not as I move my hands to her delicious ass, sliding them over the sheer lacy fabric.

She cries out, and her face falls into my neck. She buries it there, moaning as I squeeze those luscious cheeks.

“Oh God,” she whispers, her voice strained as she rocks into me, her breathing wildly erratic.

“So you like this,” I ask rhetorically as I grip her ass. I can tell she likes it. I can tell she loves it.

“So much.” Her voice breaks, her pitch rises, and this moment crystallizes to its pure, wicked possibilities.

I grab her skirt in the front, gather the material in a flash, and yank it up to her waist. She still straddles me, still riding, still thrusting against me. My hands return to her ass again as if I’m steering her, moving her sweet hot body against the outline of my rock-hard cock. It’s just Harper in her wet panties, rubbing on me.

“Ride me, princess,” I whisper harshly in her ear. “Ride me like that ’til you come.”