Never Sweeter (Dark Obsession #1)(64)

As soon as he said the words, she started wriggling out of them, fingers quick and eager on the buttons, mind barely glancing against the idea of what she was revealing.

Until he spoke, in a voice as thick as honey.

“No, no. Slower. Do it slower than that.”

“Why do you need me to go slower?”

“So I can jerk off while you do.”

“You really…that really…you…”

“God yeah. Come on, baby. Tease me.”

“I don’t know if I’m capable of…teasing.”

“Want to see what a good job you’re doing already?”

She nodded the moment he said it, so quick and eager he kind of laughed. But it was fine—it was a good laugh. The kind that unwound all the tension in her, and left nothing behind but anticipation. She was practically buzzing by the time he knelt, breath coming in shaky pants, hips rocking against nothing.

And then he eased his cock out, and all she could do was moan.

He hadn’t been lying—it looked heavier and more swollen than she’d ever seen it. When he fisted it, liquid welled at the tip and spilled down over his fingers. It seemed to jump in his hand, and again when he realized what she was doing. He watched her slide off the bed, still nervous but determined, and that hand sped up on his dick. A groan escaped him, loud enough that she found herself going for the buttons on her jeans before he said another word. She even managed to shove them down and off, without thinking too much about her jiggly thighs and her rounded hips.

In fact, she didn’t think about anything, until he spoke.

“Turn around.”

“What? What do you—”

“Turn around, honey. Show me those cute little panties clinging to that peach of an ass.”

“I really don’t think it’s much of a peach. More like a…bag of hammers.”

“Don’t think I’d need to stop myself coming over a bag of hammers.”

She flushed at those words. Partly because they were filthy.

But mostly because she knew they were true. He was as flushed as she felt and so lax looking, sprawled back on the bed like she’d somehow cut all the tendons in his body. One big hand at the base of his cock, squeezing hard enough to make her wince. Then on his balls, tugging and tugging as though that might make the slightest bit of difference.

It didn’t, however. His cock was still leaking streamers of pre-come at the end of all that effort. His hips were still bumping up, as if he could already feel her * sinking down on him. And the situation only got worse when she tentatively did as he had asked. He actually moaned once she was standing there with her back to him, clad only in her T-shirt and underwear.

And said things.

Oh, the things.

“Oh f*ck, that’s good. Yeah, that’s good. Now just…just bend over a little. Let me see that sweet * pouting between your legs. Let me see how wet you’re getting.”

“I think the answer might be very. God, I had no idea.”

“No idea about what, baby?”

“That taking off my clothes could feel this good. That it could turn me on. It’s always been something I did in the dark, under sheets. Most of the time I don’t think I undressed at all. But man, just hearing you do that and talk like this…I can’t even describe it.”

“Try for me. Tell me everything, tell me all of it.”

“It’s like falling from a tall building only to discover you can suddenly fly.”

The words came in too much of a rush to stop—though she wished she had managed as soon as they were out. They just sounded so ridiculous. This was supposed to be sex, not sudden deep poetry feelings time.

Yet there they were, and he had heard them, and strangely, she wanted to stand by them. She even lifted her chin, defiant.

And got this, as her reward.

“You have no idea how good that is to hear.”

“I do know. I can hear it, too. I can hear it, and I know it’s true.”

“What makes you so sure? What makes things different now?”

“The fact that I’m not afraid to do more.”

She turned on the last word, hands already grasping the hem of her T-shirt. One swift motion and it was off, bra and all. Now she was utterly naked before him, without the comfort of that dim light in the barn or her own arms across her body. She let them hang at her sides, only moving them when it seemed like the most exciting thing to do. The sexy stripper thing to do—fingers threading through her own hair, back slightly arched, everything tilted at just the right angle.

And it was the right angle, too.

She could tell by the expression on his face, suddenly so much heavier. His eyes narrowed to slits and that tongue came out to wet his lips—only this time she recognized it for what it was. He was echoing the thing he wanted to do to her clit. Or at least, he was pushing her to think of that. To get her to imagine the soft, slow glide of it, until she could hardly stand it any longer.

She had to slide a hand between her legs.

It was pretty much a given, and yet the response…

“Ohhhhh f*ck yeah, touch yourself.”

It was like she’d never done it for him before. Like he’d never seen anyone do it. His head went back and his fist tightened on his cock, only the tightening didn’t seem to help. It just made him buck and groan and writhe on the bed, and when he finally wrestled back control of himself, it was purely to demand more.