More Than I Could (54)

“I aim to please.”

“Your turn.”

“What?” I ask, my sex quivering.

His gaze is dark. “I believe I promised to return the favor.”

Of course, he did. Of course, I want him to. I need him to. But I’m afraid I'll fall apart as soon as he touches me.

Chase stands, careful not to bump me, and pulls his pants up. I memorize every line in his body, every ripple of muscle, before it’s hidden.

He reaches for me. His fingers nab the belt loops, and he yanks me toward him. My button is freed. Zipper dragged down in one quick motion. The fabric over my ass and to the floor before I can gather my thoughts.

He grabs the pizza boxes and tosses them on the floor.

“Hey, that’s perfectly good pizza,” I say.

“And it’s fine. It’s in a box.” He steps back and takes me in like a fine piece of art. “My lord, you’re beautiful.”

The compliment makes me self-conscious. I cross my arms over my stomach—or try to. Instead, he grabs each wrist and pulls my arms back.

“Don’t hide from me,” he says. “Why would you do that?”

I shrug.

He drops my arms but gives me a warning look not to move. Then he makes a show out of looking at me inch by torturous inch.

“Smooth skin,” he says. “Big, heavy tits. Curved hips. Nice, round ass. Thick thighs.”

I half laugh. “Careful with your adjectives, buddy.”

He lifts a brow. “Megan, your body is a fucking wonderland. Look at what it does to me.” He nods toward his groin, and I see him getting hard again.

Wow.

“When I look at you, I want to mark you all over,” he says. “Suck those big titties. Grip those hips. Smack that ass. Get between those fucking thighs.”

Oh. My.

“Lie on the ottoman,” he says, the tone no-nonsense.

I walk backward until the backs of my knees hit the edge of the furniture. Then I sit.

“Lie. Down,” he says.

I scoot on my behind until I can lie flat.

He growls. “Knees up and spread your legs.”

My chest pulls tight.

“Now,” he says.

I pull my knees up and then let my legs fall to the sides.

“Thatta girl,” he says, dropping to his knees.

He grabs my waist and pulls me closer to the edge. When I look down, his face is framed by my knees.

“Let’s see if you’re ready.” He smirks as he drags a finger through my slit. I shake, and my legs tremble at the simplest of touches. “I’d say you’re wet enough.”

“You think?”

He pops his finger in his mouth, sucking off my juices, and then pulls it out.

“I’m going to need more than that.” My clit throbs with each heartbeat. “I didn’t torture you.”

He settles in, his mouth hovering over my soaked opening. “I’m not going to torture you either.”

One hand goes on each thigh, and he spreads me wider. The air hitting my wetness, his hands on my skin, and his breath against my pulsing mound are almost too much.

And when his face buries against my swollen flesh, it is too much.

“Chase!”

I buck against him as he licks and sucks, lapping my desire like he’s dying for it. One hand holds my hips in place. The other presses circles and applies pressure to my nub.

“Oh my gosh. Chase,” I almost scream.

The words come out wobbly. It’s hard to scream when your teeth are grinding together. I can’t open my eyes. I can’t think. I can’t do anything but feel the buildup.

“I. Can’t. Do. This,” I say, the words bouncing like I’m on a gravel road.

The sensation is too much. The touches are too intense. The flicking of my overstimulated clit so much that it almost feels like it’s zapped with electricity.

I dig my fingers into his scalp as deeply as his fingers are buried in my hips. He slides a finger, then two, then three into my body and pumps them over and over again.

His tongue flattens against my clit, and I grind my body against his face.

It’s just too good. The rise is too fast. The pressure building is too much.

He pulls his face away at the same time that he twists his hand and then pulls his fingers out of me.

The ride to the top of my orgasm hits its peak. I moan, unable to hold my legs up anymore as I hand all control over to my climax.

I’m no longer in control.

“I can’t,” I cry out, bracing for the moment when the rush hits.

“Yes, you can. Come for me, baby. Let me watch your pussy come for me.”

He presses a kiss to my clit, and that does it. Then coupled with the vigor of his fingers working their magic, I fall wildly apart.

The pressure building in my core breaks.

A stream of wetness rolls down my inner thigh, and a deep, deep sense of letting go overtakes me. The level of satisfaction, of pleasure, crashing over me is unmatched.

I’ve never felt anything like this before.

Everywhere tingles. The tension in my body dissipates. It’s as if a button has been pushed, and my stress has been reset to zero.

It. Is. Fabulous.

“Chase,” I say, struggling but managing to prop myself up on my elbows to look at him. “That was …” I gasp a breath. “Incredible.”